Day One of the Wedding

I sit, statuesque, hand outstretched as Rachel delicately paints my hand with thin, deliberate strokes of henna. I am buffeted with the sounds of conversation surrounding us, oddly anxious at the sheer volume of people we've gathered in this counsel hall. And this is only a fraction of the people who will be in attendance for the Earth ceremony. Out of the corner of my eye I catch glimpses of hand after hand glowing with the same design. Rachel insisted on doing Sophie’s and mine last so that she could practice on all our other guests first. Kris offered to help out and was allowed to assist in decorating at least some of the people here, but Rachel insisted on this being her wedding contribution, and so now it is just she and I. I think of all the work she has done to honour her parents' wedding and cultures, and I smile. I’m beyond glad this has all come together so that Sophie can have a wedding that reflects parts of herself she thought she'd left behind as a child.

Where is Sophie, anyhow? She is supposed to be the next to be adorned with henna, but I get the distinct impression that she is nowhere to be found. Usually in a crowded room you can hear Sophie even if you can't see her. Maybe I'm just being paranoid, but I’ve gotten an inkling that she and Beth have been planning something secret for tonight.

I take a measured glance around the room. Oh, there’s Beth in that corner chatting to Jayken. I feel a brief moment of relief before I remember that Beth was running low on medication and is likely going to be glitching during the wedding. I make a mental note to remind Beth to take their medication, although of course once you’ve seen a Beth doppleganger this action is functionally pointless.

I bring my attention back as Rachel finishes the last details on my fingers and releases them to me with a flourish. I stretch out my hands in front of me and admire the tendrils of light emanating from the star at the very centre of my hand, turn them to trace the path of the dye around my wrists.

"It's beautiful, Rachel. Thank you." I say and she nods proudly.

"Now we've just got to let it dry." She instructs, and then she joins me in scanning the room. "Where's Sophie? I've been saving her to do last."

"That's precisely what I'm wondering." I murmur.

"I'll go see if I can find her." Rachel stands up and disappears into the crowd.

I sit there, and people come up and make small talk with me. Jayken checks in on me, oohs at the henna. Zara shows me the unique way Kris implemented the design onto her appendages, and then asks me where Sophie is. With the henna set, I decide it's finally time for me to try to find my bride to be.

My search is fruitless, with some minor misdirection from Beth, who is acting very suspiciously. I notice that Mickey and Steve are missing too. It's all exceedlingly suspicious. I am accepting that whatever is about to happen is out of my sphere of influence just as a door bangs open and Rachel appears, dragging Sophie by the ear. I suppress a laugh at the sheepish expression on her face as Rachel unceremoniously deposits her in a chair, wipes off her hands and wrists, and gets to work. Sophie looks up and for a second we make eye contact and I try to make shape of whatever plan is in her brain. She can clearly see my intrigue and there's a glint in her eyes for a moment before Rachel barks at her and she snaps her head back attentively. I watch Rachel considering Sophie's prosthetic, holding it and her other hand as if weighing them. I see her make the decision to do the prosthetic separately, and so she gets to work on just the one hand.

I am shaking my head fondly when I realise my parents are approaching me.

"You're all done with the henna?" my mother asks and I nod, proferring my hand and they both examine the design.

"It's lovely." My father says, and then gets straight to the point. "Can we steal you away from the festivities for a moment?"

I have half of an idea of why they've come to me now and my suspicions are confirmed when they lead me to a side room and unveil a delicately wrapped package.

I open it to find the embroidered tunic that I will be wearing for the paladanian ceremony tomorrow, that has been worked on in secret for weeks.

I am eager to see what they've chosen for the pattern. The standard design is of some kind of flora or other plant life. Not always of course; I remember Zax’s tunic had these beautiful bright-coloured birds in flight. Nonetheless, I have been envisioning images of the forest from the hill, or maybe the flowers that Sophie and I had threaded in each other’s hair at the treaty ceremony the first week we’d met.

I spread out the tunic and pore over the design. It takes me a moment to make sense of the pinpricks of gold connected by thin lines, set into the deep greenish blue. It is unlike any Paladanian tunic I have ever seen. I hold it out, arms wide, and absorb the starlight. Constellations. And they’re all so familiar. I feel oddly small as I regard this garment made for me.

I look at my parents, overwhelmed. “Are these my star charts?”

My father nods. “We kept some, from when you were younger, and copied them for the pattern.”

My head is spinning. I finger the fabric again. “This is the paladanian thread, but what about these gold facets?”

“Sophie got them for us.” My mother explains. “They match her outfit.”

Of course Sophie has played a hand in this. She always finds some small way to surprise me. I haven't yet seen what she is wearing to the ceremony tomorrow but she’s made sure that we’ll be matching. I feel vulnerable, all of a sudden, like the whole world is watching me and all I want is to hide myself away. I push that feeling down and embrace my parents.

“It’s perfect.” I say, and that doesn’t even really capture my feelings all that well. I feel, somehow, simultaneously treasured and exposed.

They hold it up against me, urge me to try it on, and of course it fits perfectly. My emotionality is not being helped by wearing the thing. I take it off again and we secure the tunic back in its covering and put it aside for me to take back to the house, for tomorrow. Tomorrow.

There are other small details to attend to and by the time I make it back to the main hall Sophie's henna must be done because Rachel is poring over the prosthetic and its owner is nowhere in sight.

I sigh to myself. I'm not so much anxious about what she has planned, and more gripped by the desire to grab her by the shoulders and ask what the hell we are even doing. I don't know why I feel like this. For the entire six months we've been planning this event I have been riding this feeling in waves, alternately calm and frantic. Right now my heart is thudding out of my chest as the room presses in on me. I take in face after face, my friends, people I grew up with, a couple of Alliance people I don't know too well and I can't shove down that feeling. I do want to run, and that terrifies me. It's not about Sophie, it's not about the wedding, it's just that this huge undertaking is forcing me to examine my life and who I am and that is the furthest thing from what I want. I don't want to be lucid.

I want to run from myself.