When she sees her, Magni has to fight not to stare. That would be rude, disconcerting, but it is hard to keep her gaze from her wife. She was undeniably beautiful, a mix of pride, bravery and strength that Magni was certain lay beneath that demure manner that propriety demanded. When she had first heard of her, on the heels of devastation, the thought of marriage had been frankly hard to stomach. A marriage that was practical and political, rather than for love? That at least felt like she could do some service to her family and repair the mess that she had started to create around her in the aftermath of two very painful betrayals.
Seeing her now, she has to inhale slowly. There is a strange sort of pride - not a possessive she is mine sort of pride, but something gentler. Proud that she has taken this so much in stride, that she looks so much a part of Talonhold and yet holds on to something of her own home. That is... Magni is not certain how well she would manage that, in truth. She can feel very comfortable at home certain of herself, but that normal confidence and steadiness has been eroded by the loss of two of those that she counted closest and dearest to her. It has been a slow erosion these past three months, and she is not entirely sure how to rebuild herself. It seems an unfair thing, to have wed someone and yet feel so unsteady, that Rani cannot possibly realise how precarious Magni feels most days. She cannot let her down.
There are many guests. Local nobility, dear friends and family, and there are drinks and hors d'oeuvres being circulated on silver platters, as a string quartet plays. As Lakshmi enters, a hush falls over the room, and Magni approaches her wife, bows, and— Fjorleif Beritdottir, Magni's mother, approaches swiftly, curtseying and then takes both of her daughter-in-laws hands. She isn't quite so tall as her daughter, but her bearing is almost regal, hair blonde turning to silver, and her gaze sharp. It is she who played a key roll in organising the match. "It's wonderful to meet you at last."
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Seeing her now, she has to inhale slowly. There is a strange sort of pride - not a possessive she is mine sort of pride, but something gentler. Proud that she has taken this so much in stride, that she looks so much a part of Talonhold and yet holds on to something of her own home. That is... Magni is not certain how well she would manage that, in truth. She can feel very comfortable at home certain of herself, but that normal confidence and steadiness has been eroded by the loss of two of those that she counted closest and dearest to her. It has been a slow erosion these past three months, and she is not entirely sure how to rebuild herself. It seems an unfair thing, to have wed someone and yet feel so unsteady, that Rani cannot possibly realise how precarious Magni feels most days. She cannot let her down.
There are many guests. Local nobility, dear friends and family, and there are drinks and hors d'oeuvres being circulated on silver platters, as a string quartet plays. As Lakshmi enters, a hush falls over the room, and Magni approaches her wife, bows, and— Fjorleif Beritdottir, Magni's mother, approaches swiftly, curtseying and then takes both of her daughter-in-laws hands. She isn't quite so tall as her daughter, but her bearing is almost regal, hair blonde turning to silver, and her gaze sharp. It is she who played a key roll in organising the match. "It's wonderful to meet you at last."