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Mar. 6th, 2015 08:38 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sword_redemption[Ceremony]
It's obvious that this is a special location for Crystal City, their attempt at integrating their new home into their culture. Trees line the area, tinkling and sparkling with mobiles and windchimes of metal and colored glass. Guests move along sun-dappled paths that sweep in mathematical arcs, a blend of science and organic chaos, around a perfectly round reflecting pool, over which a strange, blue-leafed willow is slowly dropping its petals; and they can see carefully erected gazebos of colored slats of wood, smooth sandstone grottos lined with whispering ivy.
Guests at the wedding find their seats—mostly big fluffy pillows, because robots aren’t really good with, you know, chairs—scattered around a central area, which is carpeted by fragrant white petals: roses and lilac and peonies, the edges just blushed pink.
A long path of red petals stretches from Crystal City itself, and up this, slowly, the slowest Drift has ever driven, a vehicle appears, his tires scattering the fragrant petals, as he comes to wait for the arrival of his beloved, following the careful high-steps of Ratchet, the chocobo, who carries a sparkling basket on her back, nearly lost in the mountain of flower necklaces she’s wearing.
It’s not a long wait: as if on cue, a jet cuts the air, glittering and wheeling in the bright sky, almost dancing with the sunlight, before swooping in for a landing, sending the white petals airborne, fluttering through the air, revealing a gold tessellated floor, as Drift rises from his alt to meet his fiancé.
And the two are together, lost in each other's optics for a long moment, as the audience begins to hear a soft music, so soft it might almost be coming from the floor, as the other mechs of Crystal City approach, their engines carefully tuned to an intricate harmony that seems to make the air shimmer.
[Reception]
Drift's still awkward around people, but Wing is in his element, dragging Drift around by the elbow and being the charming jet he's always been. Ratchet is busy, too, claiming the first dance with Wing, while an awkward Drift wonders if he should be jealous, and then trotting up to the guests, sorting them by the color of the flower crown she gives them, trying to pair people off.
There's a table--two, really--heavy with food: one for Cybertronians, with jellied energon petit fours and sparkling vintages; one for humans, the food--finger sandwiches and fruits, mostly (Drift was relieved to find out no actual fingers are involved!) scattered with violets and marigolds. A mech circulates with a tray of smoked meat jerkies for any fire lizards.
It's obvious that this is a special location for Crystal City, their attempt at integrating their new home into their culture. Trees line the area, tinkling and sparkling with mobiles and windchimes of metal and colored glass. Guests move along sun-dappled paths that sweep in mathematical arcs, a blend of science and organic chaos, around a perfectly round reflecting pool, over which a strange, blue-leafed willow is slowly dropping its petals; and they can see carefully erected gazebos of colored slats of wood, smooth sandstone grottos lined with whispering ivy.
Guests at the wedding find their seats—mostly big fluffy pillows, because robots aren’t really good with, you know, chairs—scattered around a central area, which is carpeted by fragrant white petals: roses and lilac and peonies, the edges just blushed pink.
A long path of red petals stretches from Crystal City itself, and up this, slowly, the slowest Drift has ever driven, a vehicle appears, his tires scattering the fragrant petals, as he comes to wait for the arrival of his beloved, following the careful high-steps of Ratchet, the chocobo, who carries a sparkling basket on her back, nearly lost in the mountain of flower necklaces she’s wearing.
It’s not a long wait: as if on cue, a jet cuts the air, glittering and wheeling in the bright sky, almost dancing with the sunlight, before swooping in for a landing, sending the white petals airborne, fluttering through the air, revealing a gold tessellated floor, as Drift rises from his alt to meet his fiancé.
And the two are together, lost in each other's optics for a long moment, as the audience begins to hear a soft music, so soft it might almost be coming from the floor, as the other mechs of Crystal City approach, their engines carefully tuned to an intricate harmony that seems to make the air shimmer.
[Reception]
Drift's still awkward around people, but Wing is in his element, dragging Drift around by the elbow and being the charming jet he's always been. Ratchet is busy, too, claiming the first dance with Wing, while an awkward Drift wonders if he should be jealous, and then trotting up to the guests, sorting them by the color of the flower crown she gives them, trying to pair people off.
There's a table--two, really--heavy with food: one for Cybertronians, with jellied energon petit fours and sparkling vintages; one for humans, the food--finger sandwiches and fruits, mostly (Drift was relieved to find out no actual fingers are involved!) scattered with violets and marigolds. A mech circulates with a tray of smoked meat jerkies for any fire lizards.
