When I See You Smile Down The Isle
((Askcybugralph))
The cybrid swore he was going to overheat and crash any moment now. He'd been planning this for well over a year, but now that the big day had actually come it felt like the whole thing had happened too quickly for his comfort. Or maybe that was just the pre-wedding jitters. Rick had to adjust the back of his father's shirt for the sixth time as he kept popping up his wing ports in anxiety ("You want me to duct tape those down, Dad?") and Ralph thanked him, the words tumbling out of the corners of his mouth. Was he ready for this? Was he capable? Was he having another nightmare about the ceremony going horribly wrong? This had to have been what, the eighth one this week? No, it was real, his eyes were a solid brown in the mirror, and his skin wasn't made of rock candy. He checked down the front of his dress shirt to be absolutely sure of the latter. "W-wonder how yer Ma's doin'." Ralph asked, double checking to be sure his pockets were tucked in; thank goodness they found a tailor able to work around his awkward build.
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((Askfairymorgan))
"She needs more flowers!" Morgannelafae stood on a dais in another dressing room with her daughters: a tiny, silver fairy surrounded by four insectoid behemoths. At the moment, it was difficult to tell that there was anyone even under the colorful pile of petals and glitter. Morgan's eldest, Renate, kept insisting on adding more and more blossoms to the ensemble. Oriole leaned in close, holding a bowl of small, softly glowing pearls. "...I can't find Mom's eyes." "Here." Morgan gestured towards her face. She was humoring her daughters, of course. She may be able to float through the air without loosing a single bauble, but she didn't care to be mistaken for the wedding cake. Much of this would have to be removed soon. Something about this felt...off. More off than things already looked from a bystander's point of view, that is. Who else was supposed to be with the bride in her dressing room? The girls were here, Meliad had had to leave earlier to work on the music--something the fairy had been privately thankful for. As much as Morgan valued the Honey Nymph Queen, Meliad had been fussing over her like a rabid Mothe--- "Mother? Is something wrong?" Morgan glanced up at Oriole's concerned face. Her Mother. Of course, Morgan's Mother couldn't be here. "I am fine, Oriole."








