The punch sends him against the wall. The pain doesn’t register, and the heavy rack is kicked back against Rachis before Virgil draws a second knife from his pocket. He throws it at their leg before moving around, keeping the light behind him. He does not speak, and crouches in a defensive stance, waiting to respond to their attack.
Rachis huffs, momentarily winded, but manages to jerk their leg aside to avoid the knife finding a snug home in the flesh. It grazes, but that’s all.
A more proactive tactic, then. They simply grab tight hold of the rack and start slamming it against Virgil with force, using it to keep out of close-knife range.
Harpelynn quietly places a hand on the neck of the heavy, thick-glass bottle he’s brought with him, and is certain that what he is planning to do won’t break it.
Virgil is knocked backwards, closer towards the furnace. He can feel sparks from the burning wood and coal singe his neck. Blood and splinters are covering his left arm before he darts around the last slam with the rack, and stabs at Rachis’s side, attempting to push them forward, against the rack and furnace. Two more slashes, and he turns to the door, trying to move past Harpelynn. There is a flicker of desperation in his eyes. Something has been awoken, and he looks like a trapped animal.
Rachis, luckily, is still holding onto the rack, and uses it to block the strikes partially with admirable reflexes - wood splinters, the knife strikes graze them and cut through cloth, drawing blood, but no serious damage occurs.
Harpelynn cheerfully takes the opportunity to crack Virgil over the head with the bottle of brandy, hard enough to knock him out.
"I was going to break the news to you gently, but apparently that isn't in the cards for you," he informs the prone figure, handing Alexis over to Rachis and proceeding to break Virgil's fingers with efficiency before slinging him over a shoulder.
"Roland Banning. He fought well. But the Seventh Man had to kill him. It was regrettable that I could not make you watch. But as promised:" Virgil pulls a small jar from his coat pocket, containing two storm-grey eyes. He tucks them in Alexis’s coat pocket. "His eyes. A reminder of what you brought upon yourself. Your friends. I have no more use for you if you will not talk. I am going to kill you now." He leans the rack against the coal furnace, and begins to slowly, slowly move it towards the flame.
"It seems I will have to find your storehouse myself. This was time wasted, but there is solace in ending the blight you bring to this city. Goodbye, Alexis Tucker."
The footsteps are almost inaudible. To someone who isn’t expecting intruders, they might as well be silent.
Rooms are given cursory glances. They move on; their destination is obvious, after some inspection.
There is a little discussion; silent looks.
Harpelynn leads by smashing the door open, slicing the ties from the rack and catching Alexis as they slide off with one hand; with the other he lifts it. Rachis moves past, plucking it from his hand with perfect timing and not bothering to throw it - instead they hurl the rack at Virgil one-handed and follow up with a punch that, if it delivers, will throw Virgil backwards against the wall.
"How’s Alexis?"
"Unconscious. Bad shape. Nothing medical care won’t fix," Harpelynn replies, hefting the currently limp and far too light individual in his arms.
Virgil is thrown off-balance by the rack, and the punch sends him against the wall. The pain doesn’t register, and the heavy rack is kicked back against Rachis before Virgil draws a second knife from his pocket. He throws it at their leg before moving around, keeping the light behind him. He does not speak, and crouches in a defensive stance, waiting to respond to their attack.
Rachis huffs, momentarily winded, but manages to jerk their leg aside to avoid the knife finding a snug home in the flesh. It grazes, but that's all.
A more proactive tactic, then. They simply grab tight hold of the rack and start slamming it against Virgil with force, using it to keep out of close-knife range.
Harpelynn quietly places a hand on the neck of the heavy, thick-glass bottle he's brought with him, and is certain that what he is planning to do won't break it.
Virgil sat in a chair in front of Alexis, eating a small meal. He moved mechanically, only when he needed to. Whatever echo of hate that had been awakened was quiet now, and the burns on his own face were patched and mending from doses of tincture. He had not spoken to Alexis since he arrived and woke them, and had thus far ignored any comments from them. He wiped his mouth and stood, and wiped the knife off before turning to Alexis.
"I had almost forgotten to tell you. We captured one of your friends the other night. Would you like to know who?"
He stood close to Alexis, staring at the blade with disinterest. He did not hear the tenement door open.
It had taken him and Rachis no small amount of (admittedly panicked) search effort to find Alexis’ current location.
Now he was here - he silently directed his reinforcements to surround the place, because should Virgil try to bolt he wasn’t entirely sure he wouldn’t kill the man - and, well.
The anger is so bitter, so potent, that it almost hurts; it makes him clench his teeth to suppress it. It burns.
Like a fire; the thought flits through his mind and he takes it with grim humour. But there’s really nothing funny here.
He does not speak. He moves quietly. He doesn’t need to signal Rachis to do so; they understand one another very well.
The knife at his hip hums through his bones. Cajoling. Spill blood. There are memories there, of a sort; death, under an open sky, that heartbreaking blue.
Not yet.
He moves forward, nods at Rachis. It shouldn’t take long to find what they’re both looking for.
"Roland Banning. He fought well. But the Seventh Man had to kill him. It was regrettable that I could not make you watch. But as promised:" Virgil pulls a small jar from his coat pocket, containing two storm-grey eyes. He tucks them in Alexis’s coat pocket. "His eyes. A reminder of what you brought upon yourself. Your friends. I have no more use for you if you will not talk. I am going to kill you now." He leans the rack against the coal furnace, and begins to slowly, slowly move it towards the flame.
"It seems I will have to find your storehouse myself. This was time wasted, but there is solace in ending the blight you bring to this city. Goodbye, Alexis Tucker."
The footsteps are almost inaudible. To someone who isn't expecting intruders, they might as well be silent.
Rooms are given cursory glances. They move on; their destination is obvious, after some inspection.
There is a little discussion; silent looks.
Harpelynn leads by smashing the door open, slicing the ties from the rack and catching Alexis as they slide off with one hand; with the other he lifts it. Rachis moves past, plucking it from his hand with perfect timing and not bothering to throw it - instead they hurl the rack at Virgil one-handed and follow up with a punch that, if it delivers, will throw Virgil backwards against the wall.
"How's Alexis?"
"Unconscious. Bad shape. Nothing medical care won't fix," Harpelynn replies, hefting the currently limp and far too light individual in his arms.
Virgil sat in a chair in front of Alexis, eating a small meal. He moved mechanically, only when he needed to. Whatever echo of hate that had been awakened was quiet now, and the burns on his own face were patched and mending from doses of tincture. He had not spoken to Alexis since he arrived and woke them, and had thus far ignored any comments from them. He wiped his mouth and stood, and wiped the knife off before turning to Alexis.
"I had almost forgotten to tell you. We captured one of your friends the other night. Would you like to know who?"
He stood close to Alexis, staring at the blade with disinterest. He did not hear the tenement door open.
It had taken him and Rachis no small amount of (admittedly panicked) search effort to find Alexis' current location.
Now he was here - he silently directed his reinforcements to surround the place, because should Virgil try to bolt he wasn't entirely sure he wouldn't kill the man - and, well.
The anger is so bitter, so potent, that it almost hurts; it makes him clench his teeth to suppress it. It burns.
Like a fire; the thought flits through his mind and he takes it with grim humour. But there's really nothing funny here.
He does not speak. He moves quietly. He doesn't need to signal Rachis to do so; they understand one another very well.
The knife at his hip hums through his bones. Cajoling. Spill blood. There are memories there, of a sort; death, under an open sky, that heartbreaking blue.
Not yet.
He moves forward, nods at Rachis. It shouldn't take long to find what they're both looking for.
Rachis simply nods back, grip tightening on their knife.
*a box is shipped to Harpelynn. The return address is from the Bazaar. Inside are irrigo veils, roughly the length and width of the warehouse doors. Looking at them makes his head swim, and he forgets what he is doing until he looks away. The enclosed letter states "If I allow the lives of these peoples' families to be ruined by my inaction, then I have learned nothing. Use these to block the doors. I will help however I can. ~Roland"
"Ahghgh. My head." Harpelynn winces, covering his eyes. "Well, this will be useful."
"oh and i'll need your help to spread rumours"
[7:16:28 PM] Ruka: "that a prominent spirifer is going to be meeting at this location..."
[7:17:00 PM] Ruka: The bohemians he's talking to lean forward in their chairs, conspiratory gestures. One crooks a finger, indicating that he should go on.
[7:24:38 PM] a dragon: Spirifers? Blair hadn't meant to overhear that- they had just come out to this cafe at Esther's request, but spreading those kinds of rumors? This was an interesting piece of information. Esther's layers of clothing tightened around them, and Blair could tell by the way the outer coat was buttoning itself up that Esther was interested in hearing this too. Blair continued to try to eat calmly, and pretend they hadn't heard anything. They had to poke Esther a couple times to remind them to calm down and not choke them, but Blair did eventually manage to eat in a calmer way (or so they thought).
[7:31:54 PM] a dragon: So it was a trap, then. But who was it a trap for? There were many people that hated spirifers, but which ones were these people trying to catch? Blair considered asking Esther their thoughts, but they both knew that discussing things within hearing range of someone was never a good idea. Also, talking to clothes tended to raise too many awkward questions when they were in public.
Blair ate their meal as slowly as possible, intending to leave after these people had finished and discuss it safely at home. Getting up then would attract too much attention, they thought.
[7:37:35 PM] a dragon: Unfortunately, they were getting a little bit anxious and their hands were starting to shake. So, as they lifted up the soup spoon, they ended up some of it on Esther's sleeve. They blurted out without thinking--
"Sorry, Esther!" then dearly hoped that hadn't been too loud (they knew they hadn't shouted it, so it should be fine right?) and tried to busy themselves with wiping the stain off of Esther and ignoring the group of people talking.
[7:40:56 PM] Ruka: The bohemians take their leave, just after; doubtless to do what the young man asks of them. He sighs, adjusts his well-worn cap, leans back in his chair.
"That's an interesting companion you have there." His lips hardly move, but his voice is clear. "Esther, is it? I don't see many clothes-colonies around London."
[7:57:00 PM] a dragon: "W-well- they're not a- I mean it's not a-I don't know what you're talking about, really!" That was unconvincing, but they hadn't expected him to figure them out that quickly. Blair was considering what to do- they probably should've put their hat and veil over their face and let Esther talk, but he recognized their voice now so they shouldn't, but was he going to fight them, or should they make excuses and get out of there, or what? They didn't know. But he had recognized them, and they were at a loss. Esther had a lot of concealed weapons somewhere in their pockets- should they reach for them? It wouldn't do to be unprepared, but reaching for them too obviously could also be dangerous--this wasn't too busy of a cafe, but it also wasn't completely empty, maybe backing up to the counter so that someone could see them would work? Getting into a fight with someone you don't know the capability of was bad, and close combat wasn't their strongest thing, so if they could just get outside that might give them a better chance--
While Blair was going through this mental checklist, Esther seemed to be checking the nearby area for people that would overhear.
"I'm surprised you noticed. Very few people do." Esther finally responded, when they were satisfied that there was no one in immediate hearing range besides the young man. "So, is there any particular reason you decided to talk to us? Other than the overhearing, of course-- which wasn't intentional, you know."
[8:07:47 PM] Ruka: "Oh, you were interested. I like interested people, especially ones who might be useful to know." He smiles - from the angle, they can see the smile - and leans back a little more, folding his hands in his lap.
[8:08:07 PM] Ruka: "Now. You've heard of the Lodge, haven't you? Or rather, their handiwork - their handiwork is more likely. The murders and arsons, yes."
[8:20:09 PM] a dragon: Blair notices the smile, and as soon as they hear the words--Blackmail, they think. They overheard something different, and now he's probably going to try to get them to "help" him. The good thing about blackmailers is that they're usually not the type to directly attack, but this one probably has a lot of contacts, so they could pose a problem. If Esther helps, they could probably kill him permanently, but then they'd probably have to hide out in the tomb-colonies...But if they don't try to kill him, he'll probably send agents to follow them back--
Blair is watching him and thinking. They trust Esther to be able to protect them while they do that, at least.
Under the coat, Esther strokes one of their belts against Blair's back. They don't have hands, but this is the closest they can get to a backpat. They continue doing this, trying to calm Blair down for now, and say to Harpelynn- "Well, we've heard about more murders happening lately, but we just figured someone irritated Jack-of-Smiles..."
[8:21:54 PM] Ruka: "Ah - so you haven't heard. Well, the reason I was rumour-mongering was that I'm baiting a trap - though I'm sure you heard enough of that to figure it out."
[8:22:15 PM] Ruka: "You see, there used to be a religious zealot by the name of Jeremiah Lakewood."
[8:22:24 PM] Ruka: "He died some time ago."
[8:23:24 PM] Ruka: "Unfortunately, the Lakewood Lodge has sprung up in his place, carrying on his mission, and since he wanted to burn London to the ground because it was full of disgusting bohemians and women who don't behave as they should and rubbery men and people who have generally turned from the face of God, as it were..."
[8:23:31 PM] Ruka: "Well, you can see why they're a problem."
[8:23:57 PM] Ruka: "Arsons, brutal murders, general killing sprees..." He ticks off the points on his fingers. "Most of those are the Lodge's doing."
[8:24:21 PM] Ruka: "And worse yet, they're rousing up the more cowardly bigots."
[8:25:55 PM | Edited 8:26:03 PM] Ruka: "So, yes. More to the point - I am luring out a particular member, who I believe is missing their soul. If all goes to plan, we may be able to convince them to leave the Lodge."
[8:39:51 PM] a dragon: "...I'm sorry, what?" Blair was snapped out of their thoughts by the mention of the Lodge. There were bigots on the surface, true. Blair knew that London, at least, was far more tolerant. But wasn't London's tolerance, at least in part, due to the things in London that had vested interests in that? If it got to be too much of a problem, they would deal with it, and it wasn't like everyone in London was an innocent defenseless lover, just waiting to be destroyed by the hard hand of religious zealots--in fact, didn't a lot of them leave the surface because of that?
Still, even if they thought it was implausible, the idea irritated them.
"...I see. That seems terrible- especially the arson! Do you have any idea how many of them there are?" Esther asked. If there were a lot, they could probably find one easy enough to kill. But using Esther's abilities on that person would probably take a while, especially with the time needed for the tanning. Still, it was something that they might be able to do. Of course, they probably shouldn't say that much to him.
[8:43:42 PM] Ruka: "...We're not sure. It's hard to tell - there's at least five of them, though."
[8:43:56 PM] Ruka: "Their leader is a minister. Preaches at a church."
[8:44:14 PM] Ruka: "I sat through more sermons than I ever wanted to just to confirm my suspicions. I may never feel clean again."
[8:46:12 PM] a dragon: "Oh no, what happened?" In Esther's experience, the phrase "I may never feel clean again" tended to have a horrible story behind it. Obviously this meant they had to hear it.
[8:46:20 PM] Ruka: "The man is human garbage, long story short."
[8:47:12 PM] Ruka: "We've turned from the face of God Himself because lord witness, man is lying with man! Women don't know their place! Aliens walk the streets! Devils - well, I can see how devils would be unsettling to a religious man, but the man's absolute trash."
[8:52:14 PM] a dragon: "Ah, yes, one of those. I'm assuming you know where he is, so why haven't you murdered him yet? Or maybe you're planning to do it later? ...Actually, where is he?"The idea of murdering human garbage might have been a little bit too enticing to Esther.
"Esther..." Maybe the young man wasn't intending to blackmail them, but at this rate he wouldn't have to.
"Don't worry, I just want to know where. I promise I won't drag you into anything without being fully armed."
[8:52:36 PM] Ruka: "An excellent question."
[8:52:44 PM] Ruka: "You see, I don't want to perpetuate the martyr complex these people have."
[8:53:03 PM] Ruka: "No doubt if we kill him now, someone will step up to fill the void."
[8:53:12 PM] Ruka: "On top of that, we don't know how many major members there are."
[8:54:10 PM] Ruka: "Elias Crowe - that's his name - is the man who keeps all of them together. When the time is right, we'll prove his crimes and throw him to the wolves."
[8:54:41 PM] Ruka: "I imagine the Bazaar might frown on those whose bigotry interferes with love stories. And if not...there are always those he's wronged."
[9:00:40 PM] a dragon: "If it doesn't, either Wines, Spices, or Fires will. After all, no one likes a love story where people have to suffer for their love in a bigoted society. There's already too much of that in the world." Blair seemed to think that eventually he would be brought to justice by higher powers.
"Are you sure you can't catch him? Maybe hold him for ransom? Are there any of them you think you might be able to kill without someone stepping up?" Esther seemed to be incredibly interested in this idea.
[9:01:45 PM] Ruka: "The problem is that we have no way of knowing how many there are - and, of course, how far the corruption spreads. If we hold him for ransom or we catch him in some other way, he might try to martyr himself. Certainly more inflammatory, bigoted parts of London would object."
[9:02:46 PM] Ruka: "I have my eye on one. The others....we'll see."
[9:02:55 PM] Ruka: "They may have to be put down. I wouldn't know."
[9:07:59 PM] a dragon: "Well, if you try to catch him, prevent him from martyring himself. And if you find out that there are a lot of bigoted parts of London that object, then all the better. It's better to have that bigotry come out then to have it simmering under the surface. As far as I see, it's better to see how many people really are enemies up front. I mean, it's easier to know who wants to kill you outright than find out in a surprise, right?"
"Yeah..." It was true. It was always better to find that out up front. Blair was starting to panic again, though. How many people really were there? How many would they need to kill?
[9:08:59 PM] Ruka: "I have to admit, it's a tempting solution. I'd like to take more peaceful avenues - goodness knows that society a-surface instills plenty of toxicity into its unfortunate spawn - but...well, sometimes there's nothing for it."
[9:09:03 PM | Edited 9:09:04 PM] Ruka: "The world is rotten, eh?"
[9:09:09 PM] Ruka: "Humans, in particular."
[9:17:53 PM] a dragon: "I don't think people are that rotten, actually. The fact that here, so many people are free to be themselves--I think most people are actually- if not kind, then willing to try to understand. That's why I want to kill those in particular, actually. Because they're rejecting understanding. They're consciously rejecting the human instinct to understand, and trying to remove everything they don't understand from the world. ..But I'm not human, so then again, what do I know about human instincts?"
"That's a very nice view of humanity, Esther...I think. But, I guess you have a reason to be interested in humans, so you have a nice view of them..."
"Well, yeah. Humans are interesting in a lot of ways. And pretty useful too, so of course I'd have a nice view of them."
[9:19:56 PM] Ruka: "It's a nice view of humanity. One that shines a brighter light on humanity as a whole -- and I won't deny that some people are like that. But humans are social creatures, and too often they fall into groups because they want to be safe - which is unfortunate."
[9:20:41 PM] Ruka: "Understandable! But silence breeds...complacency, in some circles. It breeds the idea that if you don't speak up, you approve."
[9:21:49 PM] Ruka: "You have those who pass down the teachings that they were given and never question it, and that breeds...destroyers. Like our deceased Jeremiah. Like Elias Crowe, pouring poison into the ears of his congregation."
[9:24:51 PM] a dragon: "I understand the idea that if you don't speak up, you approve. I've never had to do it myself, due to my difference, but many of my...species, I guess I'd say, are similar in that if you want a say in the way you move, you have to speak. But, wouldn't people passing down the teachings without question count as refusing to understand?"
[9:25:28 PM] Ruka: "I would say that...it counts, yes. In a way. It's ignorance - sometimes wilful, sometimes not - but ignorance all the same. They understand one thing - and only that."
[9:26:35 PM] Ruka: "If only killing them would solve the problem! But this lovely minister needs to lead us to the rest of his killers, first. Then they can be dealt with, and he will fall."
[9:26:41 PM] Ruka: "Killing him would be a mercy."
[9:26:46 PM] Ruka: "I do not intend to give him that kindness."
[9:26:58 PM] Ruka: "Much to my regret, I have little kindness left to spare."
[9:30:20 PM] a dragon: "Ah, I understand! Well, when you find them, please let me know. I'd like to help deal with them myself. There are a lot of things I'd like to try, actually."
[9:31:36 PM] a dragon: "Esther, please don't volunteer us for anything..."
[9:32:09 PM] a dragon: "Like I said, don't worry. It'll be fine. I'll keep you completely safe!"
[9:32:21 PM] Ruka: "If you'd like to help, I can give you some contact details."
[9:32:52 PM] Ruka: He takes out a plain card with an address and a name on it and places it on their table.
[9:33:30 PM] a dragon: Blair picks it up, and places it in one of Esther's pockets.
[9:35:27 PM | Edited 9:36:50 PM] a dragon: "We'll be in touch if we find anything! We might even drop by sometime." Esther was a little bit too cheery about this whole thing.
"I'll keep an eye out, and if there's any activity I'll send something to you about it. Thank you for letting us know." Blair was polite. They still didn't know the young man's intent, but it seemed reasonably like he wasn't trying to murder or blackmail them just yet, so they relaxed a little bit.
[9:37:00 PM] a dragon: Esther seemed to like him, at least.
[9:37:02 PM] Ruka: "Thank you very much for your assistance - and your pleasant and interesting company."
[9:37:29 PM] a dragon: "Same to you! See you!"
[9:37:57 PM] Ruka: He rises from his seat, tipping his hat to them, and leaves.
I won’t force you. But the more people we have…well, it’ll be good for damage control, at least. And if you want to get in a bit of revenge against the Lodge, now is a good opportunity.
We're planning to bait one of the arsonists out with the falsified location of a spirifer's meeting. We'll need help to spread rumours, and to capture them alive, and to make sure they don't burn the trap location to the ground. And if they do try to, we need groups on standby to dampen the whole thing.
I won't force you. But the more people we have...well, it'll be good for damage control, at least. And if you want to get in a bit of revenge against the Lodge, now is a good opportunity.
*A second parcel is delivered to Harpelynn. Inside is a charred skull with a constable's badge nailed to its front. The words "END YOUR SEARCH" are carved into its cranium.*
"Only if you stop sending me body parts, you addle-pated good-for-nothing bigots!"
Re: Lakewood Lodge; a few weeks after that gross letter
So far identified several possible members, linked to a certain church [the location is written here]
-Elias Crowe. Preaches very well, but distastefully. Matches vague description of man who purchased half-melted chain that once belonged to Jeremiah. Has an anvil and a sufficiently heated fire in basement of house. Reason to believe that 'man with iron mask' is him.
Why would someone have a large iron cross in their house??
-'Big man'. Name not known. Enforcer. Reason to believe that 'big man' involved in police assault is him. Incredibly sexist.
-'Woman 1'. Widow. Harsh but respectable. Talented at stirring up mobs.
-'Woman 2'. Religious. Hangs around revolutionaries who apparently have a prayer circle before they discuss how to bring down the Bazaar. Friends with the type of people who can procure things for a price, with no trail.
I spent a reasonable amount of time listening to TERRIBLE sermons and painstakingly tracking people to get this (also was yelled at by Elias, it was an experience). Use wisely and well. I have faith in all of you. Please take care of yourselves if you choose to use this information.
[These notes were copied several times and handed to Roland Banning, Jane, Dr. Thurlow, Chaucer Milling, Narciso, Alexis.]
*A letter comes to Harpelynn, attached to a lumpy envelope. The letter reads: "Servant of darkness, betrayer of the laws of The LORD. Submit to divine judgement, and pray for His forgiveness and mercy, for we will offer neither. The Lakewood Lodge is watching." Inside the envelope, there is a severed thumb, and the cracked glasses of the imp they once worked with.*
Harpelynn reads the letter, removes the thumb and glasses, crinkles the letter and scribbles a note to soak it in kerosene later.
He returns the thumb and fixes the glasses before he returns them to their rightful (and rather sore) owner, with apologies and a small collection of souls.
"Idiots shouldn't play with fire," he mutters. "They'll get themselves burned."
You've arranged access, via the Flit, to a quiet rooftop mushroom-garden. All London is laid before you, glimmering with gas-lamps.
The guests have no trouble getting in. Harpelynn makes sure that just for tonight, there is at least one reliable - and thoughtfully lit - passageway, to provide access. If he has to throw a few gatecrashers bodily from the rooftops, well, his outfit doesn't show it.
Guests pass beneath a simple arch, carefully twined with strange and bioluminescent fungi. The fruits of the garden provide the lighting; instead of gas-lamps or candles, there are small glass pots on every table, each containing a delicate feather-gilled mushroom glowing bright blue.
The wine is ample - of both quality and less-quality drink, there is no lack. The food is delicious, and there is much of it. The cake is brought out, elegant in its simplicity; it is tasted and found to be excellent quality. An impromptu band of rubbery men and urchins serenade the crowd with the honking, haunting sound of Euphoniums and impressively on-key singing.
The rings are brought up the aisle by a scowling urchin with an impeccably frilly outfit and an eyepatch. The vows are said. The commitment, sealed, with the words of a sufficiently holy man and a kiss (the crowd rather thinks the kiss is more important, judging by the cheering).
The band strikes up again, playing a rousing if slightly unsettling rendition of the (half-remembered, slightly patchy) Wedding March. The floor is cleared for dancing, and the celebrations begin in earnest.
