Wedding bells
Esmeralda had left early in the day to get ready, doing her last minute running around. Leaving the instructions for Agnes and Pierre and what they would have to do, would have to contribute. The twins dressed differently, but still in celebratory clothes, a little knitted purse with a sapphire necklace around Agnes’s side. She would pick up Seven and Zero around sunset, just those two because she was bringing no date. Unless Dallas was her date for the night, something she didn’t mind. The puppy was family enough that it had a little bowtie around his neck. She thought briefly about asking someone but couldn’t think of anyone who would understand the weirdness of this wedding ceremony. It wasn’t in a church. It wasn’t in a park or a beach or anywhere that people would typically think of a wedding.
The abandoned plantation. It was lit up with candles of all sorts, guiding people to where they were supposed to go. Two large men, both of them with missing teeth, colorful bandanas covering their heads, one with just a beard and the other with a head full of facial hair, were standing around, directing the few vehicles that came. Mostly, people got there by foot. It was a wedding among the homeless of New Orleans after all. One of them would come in close to Agnes’s window, peer his face against it. Knock on it. She’d roll it down.
“Evening Agnes,” The hairier one with the purple bandana grinned. “Go ‘n park over there.”
Agnes had no idea who this man was. She didn’t think that she had ever seen him before. But then again, apparently she had been working with her mother on the shelters for the last two months. This looked like someone who needed them. “Thanks,” She’d smile, feigning familiarity and then would go and park the car off to the side, among the bushes. There were a few others, but they could be counted on one hand.
Pierre would take both Zero and Seven’s hands and would rush on past the house to get to the less creepy and more well lit back area. Much less creepy back here, leaving Agnes to carry the dog behind.
Indeed, it was well set up. Carpets spread on the ground, with a few being daring enough to advertise their wares there in case the rich showed up - i.e. these four. Plenty of places to sit. Bright bonfires. There was one here who knew fire magic, could help to turn the flames different colors, making it not only bright but beautiful as well. Food was already laid out. A band had been formed of panhandlers, guitars and fiddles and a saxophone and a clarinet, all coming up with rhythms together. Pierre would stick with his two while Agnes would find the woman who read her palm and the little girl to give the necklace. As the night grew darker, she’d be looking for Bastien among the faces though. She missed him. So much.
The bearded man would be shocked at who came up next in the obnoxious dune buggy. The former king. The one that most people assumed had been dead. Some of them had been interviewed and targeted by Peru’s people after the big disappearance of Clopin and Kuzco, accusing them of hiding them, though they had been doing no such thing. But seeing that face, was a great relief. Even if it was hidden under a large purple hat with a golden feather sticking out. “Le roi!”
“Hush, hush, hush,” Clopin would wave off. “No need for that. I’m here in secret, can’t you tell by the hat?”
The man would stumble over his words, showing Piper exactly what power that he had on the streets back in the day, to where people still revered him like this. It brought his mood up a little. A smirk. He’d pull in behind what had become the familiar SUV of the Renault family. Dressed in dark purples with golden trim to match his little lady, he’d take her arm proudly, and Kuzco’s if he came, and would escort them to where his own wedding with Kuzco had been. And he’d explain it to her as well. “Ours had better music. The musicians must have died off, how sad,” He’d note.
