I look into my mirror anxiously, anticipating what would occur. As I do so, I catch sound of my maid of honor hurrying into this room.
“Nora!” Lissy shouts, flashing a grin. “You look stunning! I am loving your hair. Did you know that your mom was a whiz with braids?”
Starting to talk, I was cut off by Lissy’s words.
“And how is it fair, that God thought to grant you with such glorious hair? Look at your curls! C’mon! And such a fabulous color too…cinnamon,” Lissy sighs, “and I got stuck with dumb old straw.” Lissy tugs on a straight strand of hair, as if to show this truth of such a plight.
Laughing, I say, “Oh Lissy, your hair is dazzling.”
My maid of honor tsks, not taking such bait. “Anyway, don’t worry about this old girl. I’ll probably just turn into a sad cat lady,” Lissy shrugs, “but this is your big day! And I must say, that ball gown is scoring big points in my book!”
At that, I look down at my gown. It was an ivory color, not too crazy, but a bit original. Dainty, flowing silk had a span from my waist downwards, though it had a simplistic aura at my waist. My glitz was shown in my studs, wrist charms, and facial constitution. And lastly, I had on a pair of pumps, in a color of crystal. “Thanks! I had so much fun trying gowns on.”
I look at Nora – smiling happily and think how lucky I am. My darling is radiant and my soul sings at our joining, though it has not fully hit my mind. Still, I can only savor my thrill at this occasion and vast ardor I hold towards my light.
On my hand and Nora’s, is a band of gold – though, my darling’s has a glinting diamond. Ivory forms a sanctuary of floating fabric around Nora, in contrast, I don a suit that hints of such things as far off stars and dark nights.
Faithful to tradition, I grasp Nora’s hand in my own. Guiding my additional half into an orbit of swirling clothing of organza, stiff fabric, and fancy garb, I pull my darling into a waltz. A crown of cinnamon lulls against my crisp top and I position my chin upon it. As our dancing forms twist and turn through those ticking clock pinnacles, I focus on details which this occasion of such formality has wrought. Diagonal to us, I spot luscious ambrosia. My own is a simplistic cocoa flavor with a tint all-around of dark mahogany. Nora’s is classical with snow fondant and frills that distinguish my light’s soul. I scan our crowd to whom rang in at our matrimony occasion and find many of my darling’s confidants – all displaying such cobalt that has Nora’s adoration. Without fail, I find my in-laws in which this woman has moist skin, sad and happy facial constitution combining.
Bringing my focus back to Nora, I say with a joking smirk, “So, am I Rom – .”
“What? No! Cassian.” Nora nods firmly. “And I am Jyn. Cassian and Jyn top Rom and Juls any day.”
“Thus, I accordingly am Cassian to your Jyn?”
“Without fail, my captain.”