|
Post by Orlena on Jul 8, 2008 2:03:01 GMT -5
A crème’ envelope with a red wax seal was opened to reveal a simple paper with calligraphy and simple ink strokes designed to portray a border of vines and blooming orchids. The lettering began:
You are cordially invited to the wedding of Doctor Gathero and Donna Orlena Desideria ‘Radiant Sun’ Narsima.
The ceremony is to take place at the bride’s ranch. Reception following afterwards at Brenton Saloon, to which the wedding party will be received and expected to indulge in celebration.
The semi-cool breeze whispered her soft blessings upon the growing company gathered besides the river running aside the bride’s ranch. The constructed awning, a simple arch, stood out against the scenic view of rocky mesas and copper-colored earth feigning desolate. Orchids, entwined about the awning’s shape, almost blushed with the porcelain-rich detail only mother earth mastered. The simple seating arranged the mock aisle running from the end of the rows and columns of chairs towards the awning, substantial space allowed to enhance the ambiance of the sacred union bringing many together.
Gated pasture held an audience of another sort. Colors ranging from black to the purest white, all glistening like pearls with the sun’s radiance upon shimmering coats not shy to show off muscled bodies. Manes of them all held significance to the event, many adorned in braids and the very orchids that were found about the setting of the event. A brood of kittens fumbled around the massive army of hooves and the limbs attached. Pouncing play was to be had, as well as the occasional battle of paws to a lonely petal fallen from the heavens.
The bride and her wedding party remained within the keep of the house. An occasional eye would peek past the lacy drapes, just as quick to disappear and leave the curtain to fall and right itself, marring the covert operation of scoping the guests by the smallest women adorned in flower wreaths.
Time ticked onward, nearing the appointed time for the marriage...
|
|
|
Post by Gathero on Jul 8, 2008 3:36:47 GMT -5
The groom would help to usher some of the folks to their seats, shaking hands and accepting congratulations. The expression that he wore on his face was one of calmness although anyone who was sharp would notice his hands were as cold as ice which showed his true feelings of nervousness. The day had finally arrived and what he worried most, was if he would stumble his lines, not to mention if a certain outlaw would be showing up. He could only hope and pray that nothing untoward happened that day. The sky was clear and he took it as a good omen.
The doctor had gotten a new suit for the occasion though it didn't differ much from his usual attire, minus the hat. It was however, causing the occasional slight itch. His hair was neatly combed and pulled back into a pony tail so as not to obstruct his view. Strapped to his belt was his pistol's holster. He'd rather not have it there but with recent events, it might be better to do so.
A slight sigh would escape his lips as he gazed out at the prarie, wishing some of his other friends would be here. He hoped that Jackson would be around but the man hadn't shown up, dear or alive and he could only hope it was the latter. Bob too was on the run from the law and there was no guessing where he had gone. When the coyote had some time to himself, he would repeat his wedding vows under his breath, just to make sure that he would know them by heart.
It worried him somewhat that the wedding was taking place at the ranch but the coyote bit his lip and mentally told himself to let the sheriff handle the security details. All he had to do was worry not to mess up his vows or the procedure. The coyote would repeatedly go through his wedding vows mentally as more and more folks filled the empty seats while he took his place under the awning.
|
|
|
Post by endymien on Jul 8, 2008 20:19:06 GMT -5
Endymien held the lovely paper in his paw as he arrived. Likely not necissary to bring the invitation in hand with the town being so small and most folks being familiar with each other. Either way he tucked it into the vest pocket. He had cleaned up a bit. Shirt tucked in, and decent shoes in place of the dusty boots. Taking the time to admire the scenery as he came up to find Gathero and offer the man a heartfelt shake. If that was nerves that Edymien thought he hinted, who could blame the coyote. Saving the joking comments about 'ball and chain' and other bachelor remarks he settled on a "Good luck, Doc!" with a wink and a sturdy pat on the shoulder. He'd hurry off to find a decent spot to settle so that others could get the chance to give the husband to be a shake as well.
|
|
arm
Greenhorn
Posts: 3
|
Post by arm on Jul 8, 2008 22:30:16 GMT -5
It was doubtful the outlaw would get an invitation to such an event. But it was certain he'd come. Weddings meant food, sometimes free food and drink. Both of which he needed badly. Well.. in all honesty, he would've come either way. It was in his reckless nature.
He made a point to come forward to shake Gathero's hand. A hearty grip with a wolfish grin. "Hope she's a fox, mister doctor sir."
Unlike their past meeting, he made no effort to keep the Yankee accent out. His entire face was visible this time around, and some ill gotten clothing in exchange of what he'd been seen in. Even the shooting piece was missing.
Although he made an effort to push the limits, Arm Pit took care.
|
|
|
Post by Orlena on Jul 9, 2008 21:05:38 GMT -5
Lace-covered digits beckoned the ‘security’ to come from the window, unfurling to accept a tiny hand into gloved palm. The perfectionist emerged with quick fussing over the flowered wreath haloing over dirty blonde locks. Wrinkles were smoothed and bows were adjusted. Satisfaction of the image offered by the flower girl brought a rewarding smile and a swift kiss to the child’s cheeks. Off the girl would scurry, searching for the basket donning her authority for this festive day.
The bride turned back to the affair of her own appearance. Large vanity mirror centered around the masterpiece that was she. If the legend of Echo and Narcissus could incorporate itself with this woman and her vanity mirror, well, it is by gratitude of the lack of such a possibility that this wedding shall ensue.
The red veil hung along the naked mannequin, whose figure mimicked the larger bust, slender waist, and strong Spanish hips. Orlena’s arm extended to pull the sheer cloth from clinging to the stuffed frame, fingers gently parting the fabric and smoothing it out. Arms swung over her head, making the veil perform a graceful dance maneuver before she pinned it in place beneath a gathered collection of hair just above the nape of her neck. The up-do of her hair captured the waves and released them at the top of the twist into a cascade of solid ringlets inching down the veil. The long crimson wash of material would fall in perfect harmony with her step, flowing artfully as a cape behind her figure throughout the evening.
The final touch to this painting would be the jeweled necklace portraying flowers, offered as a gift from her fiancé, to drape low on her neck, cresting above the bust line of her corset. The choker of black held tightly to her neck, a borrowed piece from one of the dames in the saloon.
She looked at herself, scrutinizing with the utmost care to her presentation. A gentle exhale escaped, lashes fanning down as she murmured a soft word or two in Spanish and Apache for luck.
She was finally ready.
|
|
|
Post by jasonverg on Jul 9, 2008 22:26:00 GMT -5
Jason approached Gath from behind just as the stranger had approached Gathero and shook his hand. He placed his gloved paw on Gathero's shoulder. Calmly the appointed best man offered Gathero some support. "Relax Gath everything is going to be okay. My men are present in case Colten pulls any funny business. Just have a good time and savor the moment. It is only going to come once in a life time." He gave him a pat on the shoulder before removing his gloved paw from the Coyote's shoulder.
|
|
|
Post by Gathero on Jul 10, 2008 3:41:21 GMT -5
Gathero would shake hands with the folks who came to congratulate him. A grateful smile was given to Jason when the sheriff reassured him. "I hope so Jason, I hope so," he said softly as he gazed to the farm house waiting for the moment to begin. He was nervous but it wasn't the fightful nervous. More of anticipation now as time drew nearer. He was sure of his lines and all he could do was hope for the best.
|
|
Moors
Greenhorn
Grumpy Old Bugger
Posts: 10
|
Post by Moors on Jul 10, 2008 10:01:47 GMT -5
Brown boots crunched softly against the earth as the old dog slowly shuffled toward Gathero. Whenever the chance arose he would rather hesitantly extend a paw to shake the apparently nervous coyotes hand. "G'luck" Moors would grumble in the usual quiet if not slightly hoarse voice, every now and again shooting nervous glances at those gathered, heavily accustomed to the quiet conditions of his workshop. It seemed however, that the usually rather unkempt male had made an effort to give his clothes at least a few moments of attention. Sadly only ranging as far as a small pat down to rid the dust and dirt, not that it mattered. Moors would most likely fall asleep during the service anyway.
|
|
|
Post by Colten Reming on Jul 12, 2008 20:20:00 GMT -5
A hat popped up at the window outside, slowly rising to peer into the room were cold yet somewhat curious eyes. "What in'a hell's going on here...." He mumbled curiously to himself, as he stood atop a crate outside the window. "Weddin?" He mumbled again. Colten tapped lightly on the wood of the sill and slid down to sit on the crate. "How could I mess this up..." He thought to himself. Colten had been bored out of his mind and was up for some meaningless violence and aggrivation to others. "Kidnap the bride?" He thought to himself with a smile and a chuckle. Colten wondered if he could work a murder into this situation. "I should rally the gang and make some money out of this, an' get back at that damn Doc." Colten slid off the crate and wandered off towards his camp.
|
|
|
Post by Orlena on Jul 13, 2008 2:03:58 GMT -5
The noise of the gathering crowd was heard past the lace-veiled windows and the closed door. In her own private moment, the bride turned and looked at the door. She may be ready to walk the aisle, but something felt amiss. She stood from her seat and walked across the bedroom towards the stand-up safe holding a variety of treasures the woman held dear.
Gloved fingertips worked the dial, repeating the combination on automatic within her head. Latch was turned and she offered a tug, peeling the solid weight of the door open from the content within. The shining barrels of hand guns glistened as the light unveiled the mechanic beauty of them all. The smallest pair of .31 caliber dragoons were chosen from amongst the gallery, both held in her one hand as she reached for the modified leather holsters.
The pieces were thrown onto the bed, a box of bullets joining the pile, two throwing knives clasped in sheathes and an imported bowie cut short at the hilt mingled amongst the bedmates. Safe was closed, dial spun about to loose the combination. The Spanish bride turned and began the final details that would just likely be a surprise for the wedding night instead of self defense.
The dragoon holsters were placed around each thigh, a suede padding between the belts kept chafing or her posture from looking awkward. Guns were loaded and sheathed in their place. The bowie found a dedicated loop of the garter as a home along the femme’s dark thigh, as the smaller knives were thrust into the cleavage of her breasts, guarded firmly by the corset’s tight laces. With intricate adjustments, the woman looked as if she had added nothing to her visage. She approached her vanity and blew herself a kiss; if men only knew how easy it was for a woman to hide things.
A few curls were brushed back from her ears. Completely satisfied, she turned and headed out from the bedroom to the bustling commotion of flower girls and a bridesmaid all anxious to make entrance. The gentle tip-tap of heeled slippers narrating her graceful walk across the wood.
|
|
|
Post by Gathero on Jul 13, 2008 10:58:50 GMT -5
The groom stood quietly under the awning as he looked towards the farm house waiting for his bride to arrive. He'd adjust his tie nervously, putting it out of place, only to realise it after he had done so, and place it back proper. He wondered what was taking his bride so long... but then again this occasion would only come once and he'd let her savour the moment although the sun was begining to cause his shirt to itch a little more and all he could do was hope it'd go away. One couldn't be seen scratching infront of public, it just wasn't decent.
A slight chuckle would emate from the crowd of towns people. There were those who were married who spoke of their own wedding day, how they felt and they could empathise with the doctor's nervousness.
|
|
Ralph
Ranch Hand
Three Old Horses
Silent Drifter
Posts: 98
|
Post by Ralph on Jul 13, 2008 21:32:16 GMT -5
Ralph nibbled on a toothpick while he stood in the background of the ceremony, silent as usual and with his head down for the most part. He was still wanted for a possible lynching after the stunt he pulled a while back, so this was definitely a dumb move on his part. But he promised Gathero he'd come. Seeing as he was hiding out in the wilderness, he didn't get much of an invitation himself; but he was still close enough to town where he could hear the commotion.
The wedding itself wasn't the only reason he was there; but so far so good. Nothing out of the ordinary and no familiar faces to be wary of yet. Hopefully he could just enjoy this and hightail it back to the wilds without any problems.
|
|
yinc
Greenhorn
Posts: 3
|
Post by yinc on Jul 14, 2008 23:44:09 GMT -5
:: Flower wreath crowned upon Yinc's head, each flower being a mixture of yellow and white... natural flowers that grew around the town. These flowers matched perfectly with the cute dress that she was wearing, almost yellow sundress like style however it wasn't a sun dress and at the base of her back was a big yellow bow however it was hidden by her long hair that extends down little past her lower back... Elegant she was her brown eyes looking on to the ceremony as she makes her way down . This would be one time that she was absent of the doll that was given to her... well sorta there was a suspicious lump in the basket of flowers that she carried ad her shot gun, it still upon her back never going anywhere with out it, it was a natural survival tool for her after all. Yinc would be wearing a very adorable smile Various assortment of flowers would be tossed as she made her way towards Gath she for the most part silent and played the part of being the adorable flower girl. Yay! her first wedding she tough to try her best.::
|
|
jazzy
Greenhorn
Posts: 21
|
Post by jazzy on Jul 16, 2008 9:43:49 GMT -5
Jazzy came out following at a short distance behind Yi with a bright smile upon her face. It was also her first wedding and she was as excited as can be! The only thing that made her a bit uncomfortable was the big poofy, fancy dress of the bridesmaids and most especially the shoes. She dealt with it though and put a smile on her face. Just get through the day and she could go back to pants and bare feet! Nervous, shy eyes glanced to those that stood at the end of each pew, staring at those whom walked down the isle. At least she wasn't the bride, who got mostly stared at!
All of this flew in her head when before she knew it, found herself at the end and stepped up to stand and face everyone, waiting and watching silently... trying not to squirm too much in the hideous outfit she was forced to wear!
|
|
|
Post by Orlena on Jul 18, 2008 0:12:25 GMT -5
Standing in the shadow of her doorway, the bride looked out upon the gathering of her horses, the namesake of her stables, and all the hard work she placed into it. It was almost a sad event for the woman, none of her family left alive was trustworthy, and those closest to her were far away in cities or countries. Almost a shame for such a beautiful dame to walk the aisle alone with no escort.
Lips pursed together and the high note sounded into the air. At attention, all horses’ heads and ears perked in unison. The brazen coat of the silver-haired palomino flashed as he strutted forward with his gallant trot.
The mestiza stepped off the porch as a vision of her mixed heritage. Her culture enveloped around her tanned, curving shape in the crème sight of a corset with intricate beadwork of turquoise and red clay. The matching flamenco skirt of crème fell down into a natural wave of layers all dipped in a different shade of the western sunsets streaked across the skies. The simple gradients harmonizing the red veil trailing behind her.
Her gloved hand grasped a handful of the platinum mane. The palomino held his head high in regards to the woman by his side. His step majestic and smooth as she walked alongside her close companion towards the gentleman that would take her arm in his. Her mouth curled sweetly into a smile as she met the eyes of her future mate. Nothing could go wrong.
|
|