#hilda2

It wasn’t what she imagined her wedding day would look like. Rain tipped down in buckets, not a ray of sun in the sky nor even the promise of some later. No friends popped champagne with her beforehand, no professional hands twisted her hair into elegance or painted a glow on her face. No long white dress, no aisle of flowers, no chapel bells or doves. Her drugstore foundation threatened to run and stain the ugly beige of her dress, which was a wedding dress only in the sense that it was a dress and she had just been wed in it. Bitterly she thought, at least we have the rings covered, gaze shifting down to Hilda’s left hand ring finger where Priscilla’s heirloom and last vestige of worth in this world sat too comfortably.

No, it wasn’t what she had imagined at all. She stood on the courthouse steps waiting not for a limo to whisk her and her husband off to honeymoon, but for the crosswalk to change so she could walk to the train station with her wife and plod back to Bloodhearth, and back to hiding. She didn’t even have a fucking umbrella, and wore her hand above her brow. It was the only wedding veil she donned that day.

Almost three months now had passed since their arrangement began, three months that had done little to warm the girls to each other as far as Priscilla was concerned. She thought Hilda was too rough, and it was likely Hilda thought Priscilla was too much of a priss. But the bills got paid, and no Velari henchmen had shown up, and Priscilla was beginning to think they might just get away with it if they could keep out of each other’s way for another four. Then again, she’d been less pregnant at the start.

“Should we… celebrate?” She looked miserable standing there in the rain, deferring to Hilda. She guessed she didn’t feel like there was much to celebrate. They were about as married now as they had been on New Years when it all began, the only difference was that when Priscilla’s child was born they’d already have a name that wouldn’t draw any attention back to her, and by extension back to Velari. At some point she’d realized it wasn’t just the father she needed to hide from, but all his enemies as well. Anyone who might benefit from an heir, or the death of one.

The light changed, she darted out and narrowly missed a cyclist that splashed mud all up the front of her dress. “Nevermind.” She wasn’t going anywhere looking like that.

Elba spent a fair amount of time begging and pleading with her father to stay by her side. Ira explained more times than once that Sebastian’s body needed to be respectfully returned to his family sooner than later. He explained how she had been the suspect spotted near scenes of their disappearances and how it was best she stay out of sight for the time being. He explained why they could split and connect again later in Bloodhearth, reasonably taking the action of protective father. Elba couldn’t understand why it meant parting from her side, even with a promise of a return. It’d taken a few minutes to gather herself, deciding to stick with the line of trees as she trekked the couple miles to the nearest payphone. Elba didn’t even think of how they were both leaving Lori behind. She’d been forgotten already.