The burgundy dress she was still wearing felt heavier as the night wore on, but there was something that kept her attached to the dress, knowing it wouldn't come off until she and her newly appointed (again) wife fell into bed that night. Instead, she clutched a portion of the skirt in her hand and made her way off of the dancefloor as soon as she spotted Lorelai in the distance, sidling up to her with a grin as she bumped the woman's shoulder. "Dinner was fabulous, in case you haven't already received like, a billion compliments." Her cheeks were flushed with the alcohol she'd had that night, but it did very little to affected her glowing compliments toward the woman. "And you look so good, please tell me you've gotten the numbers of everyone here by now?"

✧₤✧

❂𖤍❂

His personal feelings about the guest list aside, Octavian had to admit that the event itself was quite the enjoyable affair. He’d been to many weddings in his lifetimes, so he thought of himself as a good judge of such events. That’s his only motivation in asking her his questions, to get a comparison of his appraisal of modern weddings compared to what he’s used to. That’s it. “Have you ever been to an affair quite like this one, young Evy? I can maybe only think of one or two that measure up. What about you?”

It amazed her, how many people they'd invited actually showed up. It truly seemed like they both checked off every single friend box they had in Providence Peak and Emmy couldn't have been more happy about it. She'd spent the evening, slowly drifting into night, with flushed cheeks full of excitement and a half-sipped on cocktail glass in her hands. Even though she gave herself permission to indulge for just one night, her wife had still been helping her take care of each cocktail she brought for them. Having lost the woman in question in a throng of friends, Emmy meandered in and out of party-goers to find a table to sit at and watch everything happening, her shoulder brushing against someone who turned out to be a familiar face. The recognition brought a bright grin to her lips and she wrapped her arms around the man, careful to steady her cocktail glass as she gave him an excited squeeze with a squealed greeting of "Dean!" before pulling back. "You made it! Are you having a good time?"

Her cheeks were flushed with the little champagne she'd drank with the toasts they'd made at the start of the wedding party, but mostly because she'd just left the dance floor in a flurry, leaving her once-again wife dancing with some friends as she went in search of drinks for them. Of course, with an open bar nearby, slinging cocktails just as quickly as guests requested them, she didn't have to travel far. Her palms landed on the wooden surface of the bar, the skirt of her burgundy wedding dress flowing with the movement before settling where Emmy stood, ordering two Baton Rouge's before catching a familiar face out of the corner of her eye. "Sophia!" She greeting uncharacteristically bright, as though the dazzling lights above them, beneath the twinkle of the stars in the night's sky, had completely changed the atmosphere between the two. "Having a good time?"

She struggled in between the fleeting feelings of her throat closing up and vomiting — both only fleeting because they bounced back and forth so quickly between each other that sometimes, she thought that maybe she'd just get it over with and both would happen at once, successfully suffocating her in her own nervous panic. They were already committed. They'd already signed the papers ages ago, making everything as official as it could get, and yet, the thought of standing in front of almost every person they'd ever known, in dresses they'd picked and planned for, talking about said commitment was enough to make her want to run. Except, she knew Tyler would want nothing more than for that to happen, and that very, stubborn thought caused her to stay planted in the room they were currently getting ready in. The burgundy dress pulled tightly around her waist made her feel like every breath was quite possibly her last and Emmy already knew she was going to have to reapply the makeup she was currently putting on. "I don't know if I can do this," She admitted softly, peering at Ty through the mirror.

Emmy found that very little could pull her away from her wife and the dance floor that night — except a familiar face and one of the prettiest dresses she'd ever seen. She made sure to comment that, too, as she approached Jeanie in her own burgundy dress, skirt clutched in her right hand as though it would make maneuvering around the crowd easier, before dropping the skirt entirely and engulfing Jeanie in an exuberant squeeze in lieu of a greeting. Stepping back, she pressed her palms to the other's cheeks, the alcohol she'd consumed already flowy warmly through her veins. "You came! And look at you." Emmy exclaimed, pinching the woman's cheeks ever-so-slightly before giving them a loving pat before her hands fell back to her side, brushing against the wedding dress wrapped tightly around her waist. "I did it!" She shrugged, cheeks flushed.

❂𖤍❂

Drink in hand and tilted towards the witch, Octavian wears the charismatic smile of an emperor. “Senator.” He took the time to learn the faces of all the high-ranking members of the senate he helped establish. Octavian is no stranger to politics, though the whispers anger at his calm approach. This is a public event and he wants to at least explore every possible alternative before relying on his trump card to force his way. “I’d hate to ruin the festivities, but I’ve yet to receive a formal invitation to speak before your body. No time like the present to pick your brain about a few things I say.”