Alisa Medvyed-Solanus was
not in her element. Here at this hotel, there was almost a sense she was living someone
else's life.
It wasn't that she was not happy. Some men might have been outraged at what she'd pulled at the dueling salon. Fortunately, Domitius was not 'some men.' And far from the wagon wreck such a situation could have been, she'd instead gotten a proposal that was one she would someday delight in retelling to the little one she carried.
In the impromptu service at the salon, all she'd had to do was be honest, speak her heart, and be herself. It had all been very simple and straightforward, if not easy. Whereas
this, where she was now, was
easier, but not so simple and straightforward.
What would people
expect of the lady of the newly christened
Medvyed-Solanus? Moreover,
who was she? The pat answer was of course
herself -- and yet there was a small, niggling doubt that whispered oh so persistently
'that isn't going to work.'
The gown she had planned and ordered for the official ceremony was not yet finished. On this short notice, she had opted (and had been fortunate to be able to obtain) something serviceable in traditional bridal white. She didn't feel comfortable in big, flaring court gowns, and by virtue of
being the bride, could get away with a different sort of cut. Her hair was freshly washed, worn loose and arranged over the front of one shoulder. A yellow blossom adorned it -- with the pure white of her hair, it was intended to betoken the sun-moon theme she'd instigated at the service.
Ah, the
holy symbol -- it could have been a point of indecision. But it had not been. Amidst other uncertainties, Acavna's silver, crossed spears and lunar sigil was a cornerstone for all of which she
was certain. In this day and age, few knew who and what it represented
anyway. It could easily be construed as mere accessory by those who didn't know her.
She took a breath, centered herself, relaxed as much as possible. Formality or no, she was going to have some degree of fun, she was determined. And even more so to see to it that Domitius did. Acavna knew, the sweet, darling and daring man had more than earned it...
One last edit, here.. I've had a time with this sort of regency style dress code in a medieval like setting, this still isn't quite it, but we will stop here...
This message was last edited by the player at 19:57, Fri 25 Sept 2020.