[Behold, the art Iâve been staring at rather rapturously since it appeared in my inbox. There is so much about this that just absolutely stuns me. The gold of the background. Krynâs dress. The contrast of the couple against the background. Itâs just perfect. @rayeliann is an utter magician.]
Livimele Valra anchors her tripod-mounted holorecorder on the hovering platform in front of her, then steps on, scrutinizing the screen in front of her as she adjusts position. âI think the edge of the staircase would be best, majesties.â Â
As her statement sends a small battalion of people into action, Livimele taps the device, starting the recording.
Celinin darts up the stairs as Kryn comes to a stop, already bending to shake out Krynâs skirt and nudge the fabric until it sits where she wants it. Taiyi, hard on her heels, circles around Marr, already smoothing nonexistent wrinkles out of the shoulders of his coat before turning her attention to the drape of the fabric.Â
âNow donât move from this spot, Nox,â Celinin commands. âMarr, I assume youâre going to stand all stoic, yes? That has been your general look for the last forty-some years. No hope for a dance pose or sunny grin?â
Marr, watching the flurry of activity around Kryn - Celinin, a hairdresser whose name he canât immediately recall, and Riva, Krynâs favored makeup artist - ignores Celinin. âYouâve certainly made a valiant effort to be as tall as me, qilitzarai,â he says, small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. âWhen you add in your hair, you even come past my shoulder. Well done.â Â
âIf these shoes were any taller, I wouldnât be able to walk in them and youâd have to carry me everywhere,â she chuckles. âThis is as good as it gets without a visit to an alchemist.â
He slides a hand around her waist, watching as she makes a thoroughly unnecessary adjustment to the collar of his coat, rubs a smudge off the shining Imperial emblem on his chest. âAm I now satisfactory?â
âQuite.â She looks over to Livemele. âIs there a particular pose youâre wanting?â
âThatâs perfect, actually,â Livimele says, looking up from the screen on her holorecorder. âEmpress, if you could rest your hand on his forearm?â
Kryn does so, a smirk curving her lips. âWhy, Darth Marr, are you smiling for an official holo?â
âIt seems I canât school my expression into appropriate seriousness,â he replies with a mock sigh. Indeed, multiple people have commented on the heretofore unseen phenomenon throughout the day. âTruly, a testament to your sorcerous powers.â
âHow awful, looking happy on your wedding day.â The most sarcastic tsk tsk Marr has ever heard. âYou poor man.â
âI suppose Iâll simply have to hope my reputation of the last forty years can weather this one lapse.â
She pretends to think, face lighting up like she has an idea. âWe can go storm a planet for our honeymoon. Who shall we conquer?â
âYou always know just what to say. But first, we should probably finish all the to-do around this wedding, and if you donât direct your attention back to Livimele, sheâs likely to throw a shoe at us.â