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- Oct 16, 2024
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Lived Long enough to See my gay son get married
The ceremony continued. The officiant produced a knife with a handle of black wood, and pricked the palms of bride and groom in succession. Senara took her cut without flinching, the blood welling in a perfect bead before rolling down her wrist to disappear into the sleeve. Lumen bled more freely, the blood shocking against his skin, and for a moment he looked at it with something like wonder, as if surprised to find himself capable of injury. They exchanged tokens. Senara offered Lumen the jack-o’-lantern charm, carved from fossilized squash seed, strung on a braid of her own hair. Lumen hesitated, then produced his own offering: a vial of pink liquid, stoppered and hung from a chain of purest silver. Senara took it, examined it, and, with a hint of amusement, uncorked the vial. The crowd inhaled as one; the scent that wafted out was unmistakable, even from twenty paces. Belle’s honey. A taste once reserved for the high table of Delphine, and now, apparently, an element of the House’s new alliances. Senara dipped her finger, brought it to her lips, and tasted. She nodded, once, and recorked the vial. "So written," Belle whispered. The sound was barely audible, but it carried down the aisle with the weight of an edict. The officiant spoke the final words, and the union was complete. Senara kissed Lumen with a precision that startled the crowd from its lull; this was unexpected, and a brief fanfare from the hired band caught up the mood, turning it to something almost festive. At that moment, Harvey and his men approached, their passage silencing even the most determined gossips in the back row. He stopped at the aisle’s mouth, waiting to be acknowledged. Belle turned at last. Her eyes met his, and for a moment, the city’s history hung between them like a blade.
The ceremony continued. The officiant produced a knife with a handle of black wood, and pricked the palms of bride and groom in succession. Senara took her cut without flinching, the blood welling in a perfect bead before rolling down her wrist to disappear into the sleeve. Lumen bled more freely, the blood shocking against his skin, and for a moment he looked at it with something like wonder, as if surprised to find himself capable of injury. They exchanged tokens. Senara offered Lumen the jack-o’-lantern charm, carved from fossilized squash seed, strung on a braid of her own hair. Lumen hesitated, then produced his own offering: a vial of pink liquid, stoppered and hung from a chain of purest silver. Senara took it, examined it, and, with a hint of amusement, uncorked the vial. The crowd inhaled as one; the scent that wafted out was unmistakable, even from twenty paces. Belle’s honey. A taste once reserved for the high table of Delphine, and now, apparently, an element of the House’s new alliances. Senara dipped her finger, brought it to her lips, and tasted. She nodded, once, and recorked the vial. "So written," Belle whispered. The sound was barely audible, but it carried down the aisle with the weight of an edict. The officiant spoke the final words, and the union was complete. Senara kissed Lumen with a precision that startled the crowd from its lull; this was unexpected, and a brief fanfare from the hired band caught up the mood, turning it to something almost festive. At that moment, Harvey and his men approached, their passage silencing even the most determined gossips in the back row. He stopped at the aisle’s mouth, waiting to be acknowledged. Belle turned at last. Her eyes met his, and for a moment, the city’s history hung between them like a blade.
