#cokers

A breath, sucked in sharply as he shook his head. How had they come to this? Why did it seem so sudden, when it felt like ages since they began willfully being in each other's presence regularly?  The paladin looked down at the rock under his feet and he smiled. Strangely enough, it was almost immediate, that attachment. One that he thought both recognized, though he never imagined those first few exchanges would ever lead to this. He doubted that Tyvenn had, either.

This.

He looked down at the enchanted ring on his finger, a token, a promise given to him under the stars with words of love, of adoration, of longing - emotions he was once told he could never expect to receive from a Death Knight. He looked at it curiously, the swirling  red and black only serving to make him feel even more out of touch with reality.

He stared at the ring, holding it up so that it was at eye-level, blinking softly as flashes of green and blue rippled through the red and black. He pursed his lips slightly; he had always assumed he would be the one proposing marriage, if he were to ever do so. The question had been posed with such sincerity, the emotion behind it clear, and very real - the Blood Knight would always and forever remember the look of vulnerability on the Death Knight's face as he had asked the paramount question. Or stated it, Rather. It was less of a question and more of a demand. Silvendiel's lips quirked at the memory.

He lowered his hand, and his brow furrowed as his gaze swung outward, moving over the many people milling about Warspear.

He had never wanted marriage, and it was one of the very reasons the Blood Knight had run from many relationships, especially those with women. Now, it was happening, and he did not know quite what to think of it; in a way, he imagined it would change nothing, with the exception of their relationship simply being official. The Blood Knight was not overly fond of pomp, and weddings had always reeked of frivolity and pompous displays, needless expenses and were basically occasions for everyone to show off. Quite frankly, he disliked weddings.

Their plans, however, were simple, and while his lover was worrying over things far more than he, and putting importance into things he had not really thought of, he understood the importance - in giving Tyvenn the wedding he wanted, but also the extremely private, momentous occasion. They would be officially giving their vows to each other, and, by that time, preparing to start a whole new chapter of life together. Life. In more ways than one.

Rotating one shoulder and arching backward to stretch his back, the knight let out a long sigh. There was still much to do, and he was sure Tyvenn would continue worrying over everything involved. His lover had already made it clear that he was  not to wear his Blood Knight uniform to the wedding, and his lips twisted sourly, knowing that Tyvenn would be dressing him up, much like those little paper dolls. He let out a soft groan, startling the undead woman next to him. She grinned at him, the dried rot around her mouth stretching eerily, though the knight took no notice of it.

"Thinking about that elf corpse of yours?" she asked with a cackle, her voice rough and wheezy. "Where is he, anyway? Aren't you two attached at the hip or something? Quite disgusting, really." the undead woman eyed him and scrunched her nose.

Silvendiel smiled, giving the woman a small bow. "Even if he is not here, we are very much attached, dear lady, and I do not think that will ever change."

He smirked as she  made a retching sound, waving a bony hand at him as she walked away. "Bah! Keep your sap to yourself!" she muttered in her gravelly voice; however, the Blood Knight swore he could see the corners of her lips lifted into a small smile.