I now pronounce you...

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4/30/99

Someone's knocking on the door. Maybe it's Tarrant. (If you like, you can 'reply <words>'.)

Corian calls, "Come in."

Tarrant enters from the Elevator Lounge.

Tarrant has arrived.

Despite a limp off his left leg, Tarrant walks as if he is perennially on stage, ever observed. He isn't a short man, but neither is he excessively tall. He is wiry of build, but not so much so that he could be termed skinny. Rich auburn-brown hair is combed back into a slightly old-fashioned cut, too long to be corporate, too short to be daring. Intense eyes of a grayish-green lurk beneath neatly aristocratic brows. His facial features are almost upper-class, although a great deal of that is because of how he carries himself. He moves with a swagger and dramatic bearing. His voice has a distinct drawl, a purred tone to it, although he is still comprehensible.

Always a bit on the formal side, Tarrant is dressed in an even more formal fashion than usual. Neatly crisp black cotton slacks fall neatly over matte black leather boots. Clipped to the back of the boots is a pair of brushed steel spurs. These are of a very old style indeed, each a single piece of swept metal rising to a tri-cornered wheel tip. Thin chains and a thick leather strap hold them in place, and there's a faint jingle when he walks. His shirt is a soft slate gray, fastened with buttons of polished silver. The shirt's collar is military style, and constrained by a single button. Around his neck is a bolo tie of braided black leather with a simple silver clasp. His jacket is a long one, square tailed in the back, and waist-short in the front. It's buttoned shut, and a single silver chain drapes from pocket to pocket across the front.

Tarrant steps in, a study in gray, black, and silver. With a bag over one shoulder, and several brilliantly white roses in his other hand, he bows sweepingly with an amused grin. "I've come to abduct you my lady. Too bad I don't have a mountain lair I suppose."

Corian is seated at her desk, for a miracle, with a bit of paperwork. As you enter, she looks over with a smile of greeting, then pauses a beat, smile widening somewhat. "Goodness, love, you look wonderful--very handsome." It's only then that she notices the roses, and her expression softens somewhat, though she chuckles at your words. "Give me a moment to change clothing? Or I could wait until we get there, if you'd rather flee now."

Tarrant straightens fully, grinning impishly. "My patience will surely survive giving you the opportunity to change, my love. For you I have all the time in the world. And with all the time in the world, a few moments are as nothing."

Corian gets to her feet, lifting a finger to indicate she'll only be a moment, before snagging a dress bag from the closet. "Well, even with that, I will try to be quick," she replies, with a smile. "The paperwork is on the desk--there are sections that you need to do, but it should not take you very long." And with that, she disappears into the bathroom.

Tarrant settles the bag aside, and gently resting the roses on the desk, he slides in to consider the aforementioned paperwork. Snagging a pen he sets about filling in the various sections with a decided air of amusement.

And Corian is not quite so quick as she said she would be. It's hard to manage buttons when your hands are trembling, after all. Eventually, though, she emerges, and stands just outside the bathroom door, watching you, a rather tentative smile on her face. She doesn't say anything, though.

Perhaps a hair under six feet tall, Corian is painfully thin, and has
quite fair skin. Though she takes care to disguise her slight frame with baggy clothing, the spare lines of her face and the delicacy of her overly-jointed fingers hint at what is hidden. Her build is not even remotely athletic, with an absence of muscle that would not be out-of-place on a sedentary pre-adolescent. In fact, even her face looks quite young. If not for a presence and a self-posession rarely found in someone who is the age she appears, she could easily seem to be a young teenager. Silvery-blonde hair is cropped neatly at her jaw, the style attempting to make her narrow face look wider. Sparse brows arch over cloudy gray eyes, and under neat bangs. She has an obviously Edreeni cast to her features, and moves with the grace characteristic of that group. Her alto voice is quite flexible, and her Standard is without any trace of accent.

Miracle of miracles, Corian's clothing actually fits her. The dress
itself is made of a white cotton-linen blend that clings lightly to her frame. The lines of the dress are fairly simple, but elegant nonetheless, and suited to Corian's grace. The hem falls to brush the arches of her feet, edged in simple, palm-wide eyelet lace. The sleeves end just above her elbows, with more of that lace edging them, and another, narrower section of it is inserted in the sleeve, so that hints of her upper arm may be seen. Still more of the lace is inserted in two ovals at the curves of her waist, over each hip, accenting her own very modest figure. The neckline of the dress is also modest, though it is very daring when compared to Corian's usual clothing. It doesn't show any cleavage, of course, but her collarbone can be seen, as well as the carved wooden lotus of her necklace. Her shoes are white flats, and very simple. On the third finger of her left hand, she wears a ring made of interlaced layers of malachite and gray, an interlooping and entirely complex object.

Tarrant looks up from the paperwork at the sound of the door, eyes lighting with wonder as you emerge. Climbing to his feet reflexively, he moves as if to remove a hat he isn't wearing by attempt to be polite. Of course, he realizes he -isn't- wearing a hat, and just looks puzzled a moment. He takes a step forward. "Now I know why they traditionally don't let the groom see the bride before the ceremony," he murmurs softly, his tone awed. "For fear he'll be too stunned by her beauty to figure out where to go next."

Corian moves to close the distance between you and herself, reaching for your hands. There's a bit of a blush, and she asks softly, "You like it, then? I was afraid... I thought... but the others said that you would." And she honestly looks uncertain--this isn't just fishing for compliments.

Tarrant brings his hands up to take yours gently, regarding you from head to toe, drinking in the sight of you. Smiling rather fondly he nods, "I like it very much, you're lovely my star. Lovelier than anything I have ever imagined. Always you are a vision of beauty...But like this...Like this you will weaken the knees of any man, let alone the one who loves you."

Corian smiles rather brightly at that, giving your hands a gentle squeeze. "Well, then," she replies softly. "It was worthwhile." She pauses, then, and inquires, "Is the paperwork finished? They will probably want it, after all."

Tarrant bends over to gently kiss your hand before shifting back a step. "Almost, if I may beg a moment to finish." Stepping back further he returns to the paperwork in question, scrawling his signature in a broad loop and then standing, paperwork in one hand, roses in the other. He offers the latter and an arm, "Shall we then?"

Corian takes a moment to snag her overnight bag, before taking first the roses, with a murmured thankyou, and then your arm. "Yes, let's go," she replies, with a quick smile that somehow manages to hold both nervousness and delight.

Tarrant grins down at you as he escorts you from the room and into the hall. "Now I just have to fend off people trying to steal you away before we escape." Winking, he heads into the hall.

[The ceremony was done off-camera. The scene picks up just after it.]

Seascape Room

Though not quite the honeymoon suite, these rooms definitely hold equal measures of luxury and elegance. Appropriately enough, there is a seaside motif, though it is understated, rather than overwhelming. Blues and greens dominate the room, with the occasional hint of sandy-tan. The thick rug, in a subtle moire pattern, is kind to bare feet, covering all but the edges of the polished wooden floor. The bed is extremely generous, with large pillows and fluffy comfortors. There are other amenities--a holo, a computer, that sort of thing--but they are tucked away, the better not to detract from the overall room. A small table is by the French doors, which lead to the balcony, which, conveniently enough, overlooks the sea and a beach. Hey, there are stairs from the balcony as well--a private entrance. There's also a door to a bathroom, and to another room, in which is a sunken hot tub. Ooh.

Contents:

Tarrant

Tarrant is old fashioned enough to have scooped you into arms, the bride after all must be carried across the threshold. There are -rules- about such things. He doesn't seem to be having any difficulty at all with this, the combination of recent surgery and his overall delight leaving him all but limpless. "Voila?"

Corian doesn't seem at all bothered to be carried over the threshold, with an arm around your neck to balance herself. She knows enough about tradition not to argue. "Oh, it's lovely," she replies, with a pleased look about the room. "The woman with whom I spoke said that it would be, but seeing it is somewhat different."

Tarrant gently lowers you to your feet with care, simply grinning widely. "It is gorgeous, although I am afraid nothing can compare to your beauty this day." He glances out towards the sea, grinning, "The ocean is wonderful."

Corian takes a moment to settle the roses on the table, nodding her agreement as she reaches for your hand. "Thank you," she replies, adding softly, "My husband. -Husband-... goodness, what a wonderful word." She's got that new bride glow about her, and looks radiantly happy. "Did you want to go for a walk down there, on the beach?"

Tarrant settles the bags aside, then interlaces his fingers through yours. "My wife..." He murmurs, simply sounding stunned a moment and looking altogether thrilled. "I think I could very easily become accustomed to the sound of such words." He smiles to you, "As you would like it, my own preference is simply to be with you. If we are to take such a walk, I would beg a moment to tug off my boots. Sand and toes is simply wonderful."

Corian nods her agreement to that. "Of course. Why don't we go now, before it gets too late?" She releases your hand to take off her own shoes, apparently in agreement with the whole sand-toes thing.

Tarrant seats himself lightly on the edge of the bed a moment, tugging off boots and socks, settling both aside. Turning up the edges of his pants in a single cuff, he grins and stands again, poking around a bit to investigate the hotel room a moment before then moving to open the door for you, bowing that you should precede him. "A lovely room indeed, goodness, this all but beats a treehouse."

Corian heads out before you, making her way to the beach and extending a hand towards you. It's fairly peaceful, especially at the far end, where none of the other occupants are. "If it were raining, though, a treehouse would be better, I believe. I am glad that you like the room, though. It really is lovely."

Tarrant follows along afterwards, taking your hand and matching pace close by your side. Taking a long breath, he inhales the smells of surf and sea air. "I did not know life could be this wonderful, this day has simply been one wonder after another. Married...It is too wonderful to even think about too hard."

Corian swings her hands very gently as she walks. "It really is amazing," she agrees softly. "Happy birthday, cha'trez. Your family will not object that we married without any of them, will they?" she adds, though, honestly, she looks rather pleased with life in general.

Tarrant shakes his head in a brief negative, still regarding you with a fond grin. "No, they won't. Mom and Dad don't travel much anymore now that they've settled down, and Sarah's got the kids and all. They will wish to meet you at some point however, but that will more likely entail us actually, the horror, visiting them. You can meet the tri'oni. That should be an adventure." Squeezing your hand gently he notes, "It is more your family I am worried about. I have been warned that ill fates will befall me if I displease you."

Corian inquires, with a curious smile, "Tri'oni?" She pauses a beat, then. "And who warned you of that, cha'trez? Not that I am worried about you displeasing me, love, but, well, certain members of my family would not take kindly to that, no."

"They are similar to horses in their uses, but, well...There is not so much physical resemblance anymore. They are look like giant mammilian water spiders. Eight legs, and all spread like that. Very affectionate critters as well. My parents maintain a farm nowadays." Tarrant grins ruefully, looking amused. "I received an amusing letter from your elder brother, regarding the possibility of my be-squishment if my intentions are not honorable."

Corian looks rather intrigued by the description of the tri'oni. "Fascinating," she murmurs. At the news of Riley's letter, however, she shakes her head. "I cannot believe he -did- that," she murmurs, with a shake of her head. "I will have to have a word or two with him on that subject. Goodness. I am sorry about that, cha'trez. I hope he wasn't too... protective-sounding." Yeah, that's what she was going to say.

Tarrant laughs softly, shaking his head in amusement. "No, it was actually quite amusing. Not at all overbearing or evil. I was highly entertained." He pauses a moment, bending down to scoop up a shell.

Corian's lips quirk at that. "I do not know that I will mention -that- particular opinion to him, though," she murmurs, watching the shell-scooping with a quick smile. "Hona might have said something to him. Clara mentioned a comment from Riley as well." She shakes her head. "Eventually, he will realize that I am capable of taking care of myself, but I will not hold my breath."

Tarrant regards the tiny shell a moment before pocketing it and resuming ambling along. "Family is family...they're not -supposed- to behave. It's required by some sort of fundamental law."

Corian inquires, with a quiet laugh, "Should I fear a letter from your sister, then?"

"Rather -I- should fear a letter from my sister," Tarrant notes with a chuckle. "Like as not she will write you with a horrifying list of my childish errors and foolishness."

Corian says cheerfully, "I will take her words with a grain of salt, my love. Though I am somewhat lucky in that. My siblings did not know that they were so while we were very young, so they did not take note of all my own errors."

You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.

"Thankfully I am a decent chunk older than Sarah, so I know more evil stories about her than she does about me." Tarrant pauses a moment again, looking once again out over the ocean, and to the setting sun. "Still though, she knows more than enough."

Corian muses thoughtfully, "Perhaps I should contact her, then." But then the sunset distracts her, and she smiles, moving to stand closer to you. "I wish," she says softly, "That we could just take this moment and freeze it."

Tarrant shifts a moment, tugging off his jacket and resting it on the sand. Gesturing to it he grins, "Share a seat with me?" There's a wistful nod and he grins, "If only all moments could be like this one."

Corian nods and settles carefully to a seat, cautious of her dress. "It would be wonderful," she agrees softly. "But I suppose the times that are not so wonderful make us appreciate times like this all the more."

Tarrant slides down to a seat next to you, reaching an arm around you. "True enough, without sadness there is no joy. Still," he muses thoughtfully. "It is a lovely thought. On this night though, I am the luckiest man there ever has been or ever shall be, I have you as my wife."

Corian's smile at your words is decidedly bright. She leans lightly against you, with a contented little sigh. "This has been the most wonderful day of my life. I keep trying to remember each little moment, like Mother suggested, but I just know it's going to slip away from me."

Tarrant echoes the contented sigh, stretching his legs out in front of him. "I do not know if remembering the details is needful, but simply the joy."

Corian's smile is slow, but warm for all that. She looks out over the water, then says softly, "I do not know that I will have a problem remembering the joy." She pauses, then, and gestures towards your knee. "Has it been bothering you, cha'trez?"

Tarrant glances at the knee, shaking his head with a bemused grin. "Not a whit, between Clara's tremendous work, and the sheer level of wonder of this day..."

Corian nods to that, looking rather pleased. "She asked about you the other day, when I went to get this." One hand plucks gently at her dress. "She was glad to hear that you are doing so well--as am I. It really is wonderful, cha'trez. But then," she adds, just a bit abashed, "Everything is wonderful today, I believe."

Tarrant regards you and the dress a long moment again, drinking in the sight. "I still cannot get over how lovely you are in that dress. I suppose it is because of what it signifies, marriage and all, just so amazing."

Corian drops her gaze a moment, then looks up with a smile. "I was yours even before you asked me to marry you," she says, "But I -am- glad to make it official and legal. The Department will have to recognize it, and we will be able to stay together."

Tarrant grins at that, nodding. "And to be able to say you're my wife..." He sighs, dropping back to flop in the sand. "See? I'm knocked over by it. That anyone so wonderful as -you-, would marry -me-... It's just...there are no words."

"My husband," Corian murmurs, moving to rest a hand atop yours. "And of -course- I would marry you. You are the other part of me. I could not be truly happy, now, without you."

With a quick shift, Tarrant curls around you, altogether like an oversized lap-dog of some kind, and heedless of the sand. "It is not something I would have imagined not so long ago, though. And now it is reality."

Corian pauses a beat at the shift, though she goes with it after a moment, settling herself comfortably against you. "Perhaps we should go back to the room?" she ventures. "It might be a bit more comfortable--and less sandy." She lifts a hand to touch your cheek, then, murmuring, "It is reality, yes." There's an almost whimsical pause, and then she adds, "But what is Real?"

"I am terribly comfortable here, although the sand is certainly an issue. Still, the view of the sunset here is unparalleled." Tarrant chuckles softly, "I'm fine either place however. "This is real. You and me, and being in love, and nothing getting in the way of that."

Corian murmurs softly, "And no work--for a little while, at least. It will be difficult to go back." She kisses your cheek very gently, then settles against you once more. "Perhaps until the sunset ends. It will start to get chilly after that, and this dress is not especially suited for cooler weather."

"Here until the sun falls away, and then to amble off to a warmer locale, certainly."Tarrant agrees amiably, grinning at the kiss. "Difficult to go back, but still. We'll sort it out. There'll be a lot to sort out when we get back. But for now, there's just the two of us."

Corian nods her agreement, with a quiet sigh. "We can ignore the rest of the world for a bit longer, yes?" she inquires wistfully. "I rather prefer it as just us. I'm glad that we decided to get married like this. And I warned Mother and Father that we might--they said it was fine, but, like your parents and me, they would like to meet you. Perhaps for my brother's wedding, if he manages to get it settled--though that might be a bit much, inflicting them all on you at once."

"I could survive it I think," Tarrant muses thoughtfully. "Although I might need 'Hello My Name Is...' tags to keep everyone straight." Chuckling he mmhmms, "Just us, and no worries at all."

Corian sighs very quietly, the picture of contentment. "And this beautiful water, and the sunset, and... perfection. I am being rather repetetive, but this really is -wonderful-."

"There's no reason not to be repetetive. It's one of those things fine enough to bear repeating." Tarrant sighs softly, altogether content. "I think I pity everybody else, not to know this."

Corian nods her agreement to that. "I certainly do--though there are those who have similar experience, I believe. It is just different, because it is not us." She reaches for your hand, then, with a smile.

Tarrant slides his hand into yours, grinning. "Pardon my evil, but I would state I am better off than all the universe, as none of them have -you-."

You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.

Whoever coined the phrase 'blushing bride' must have had Corian in mind, as she suits that expression quite nicely. "Thank you, cha'trez. I certainly would not want anyone else, as nobody else in the universe is -you-."

"Then we are well suited one unto the other, and lucky to be so." Tarrant sighs happily. "This is going to be a -good- year."

Corian teases gently, with a bright smile, "Just a year? I was hoping for longer than that, cha'trez."

Tarrant grins up at you, chuckling softly. "Not just a year, but forever and ever. But this is a fresh year for me, and a wonderful start to it."

Corian gives your hand a gentle squeeze as she watches the fading light. "I am very glad that you agreed to my suggestion, love. I was afraid that you would want to wait--to make it a day that was not already special."

"Wait? Want to wait to have you as my wife? I am patient, and would wait for you forever love, but I would not wish to wait one moment more than fate demanded." Tarrant squeezes your hand in return, carefully disentangling himself to sit upright again and dust off the sand. "No, I think this was the perfect time."

Corian brightens perceptibly, flickering a quick smile at you before tipping her head back, the better to peer upwards at the slowly-appearing constellations. "It is almost too much happiness," she murmurs.

"I don't think there's such a thing as too much happiness," Tarrant replies with a chuckle, dusting off the rest of the sand he's acquired. "Although I am willing to experiment to find out."

Corian watches your dusting-off-ing with a fond smile. "The things to do in the name of science," she murmurs. After pausing a beat, she inquires, "Should we go back, then?"

"Probably we ought to," Tarrant climbs to his feet, offering you a hand up. "It's getting decidedly chilly, and if I'm cold, you must be freezing. We can go back and get warm and all."

Corian gets to her feet to take your hand. "I am not quite freezing, yet, but I could use a bit more warmth than is available here."

Tarrant leans down to pick up his jacket, shaking it swiftly to denude it of sand. He moves to attempt to place it about your shoulders. "Then let us venture back to our home for the night."

Corian doesn't protest the coat-settling, instead tucking it a little more closely about herself with a murmured thankyou. "That is much better," she adds, though her smile is a bit amused. Maybe she's aware of how massive the jacket is on her, but, hey, it's warm and it's yours.

Tarrant can't quite help but half-grin at the picture of the tiny lady in the not so tiny coat, but he begins heading back along the sands to the hotel. "Thank you love, thank you for making this the finest day of my life."

Corian falls into step next to you, though the coat kind of keeps her from holding hands with you. "It was amazingly wonderful for me as well, cha'trez--my husband. And you are welcome--thank you--goodness." She laughs softly. "I am losing the ability to speak."

Tarrant steps back a half pace as the steps are reached, so that you may precede him up them. "Sometimes I guess, words are not necessary."

Corian murmurs a quiet thankyou before making her way up the steps. There's a rather grateful sigh as she enters the room, and takes off the jacket, offering it to you with a smile. "Thank you, cha'trez. I appreciated the loan of the jacket."

Tarrant closes the door behind him, accepting the jacket with a nod and a grin. He tugs it back on. "You're welcome for it, although it was no trouble. It is nice to be back here where it's warm. And it is still such a wonderful room."

Corian nods her agreement, glancing about the room as she seats herself lightly at the table. "It is a beautiful room. I am amazed that it was available on such short notice. We will have to remember this place, for when we would like to escape the Complex."

Tarrant pokes around a bit in the room a moment, brows lifting a moment. "Oh my, with a hot tub even." He heads to the table, seating himself.

Corian looks over at that, brows lifted. "A hot tub? That was not mentioned--an additional bonus." She doesn't look ready to use it, though--she doesn't own a bathing suit, after all.

Tarrant simply nods, half-grinning. "Certainly an amazingly happy place. And the view's wonderful." He pauses, "Or it was until the sun went down." He grins.

You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.

Corian rests her head in a cupped hand as she watches you. "The view will be just as wonderful when we wake in the morning." She pauses a beat, then. The morning will be after the night, after all, and it's the -wedding night-, after all.

Tarrant doesn't seem to be in any hurry to budge from sitting in the chair. He seems to be clueing in to the fact that tradition would seem to dictate that y'all are supposed to be doing something -other- than sitting at a table on said wedding night, and sitting here is safer. "Perhaps when we go to bed, we can leave the door open a bit, so we may listen to the waves."

Corian reaches over to take your hand. Hand-holding is safe, hand-holding is okay. "That sounds like an excellent idea," she agrees. "It would be soothing, I believe--I have never lived near enough to water to hear it."

Tarrant is fond of hand-holding it seems, interlacing his through yours. "Never? It's nice, I'm partial to it. Oceans are far preferable to rivers as well, much more rhythmic."

Corian inclines her head to confirm the question. "I generally lived in more urban areas, which rarely allowed access to water, especially oceans. I am very glad to have the opportunity to hear the sound, though--especially with you, today."

"And what water areas the urban sprawls do have, well... usually not much worth having." Tarrant shakes his head thoughtfully. "We really do need to visit my parents. If for no other reason than for you to get to spend some time well away from anything resembling a city. It's in a mountain valley, does that count as a mountain lair? Not much of a highwayman am I? Still using my parents lair?"

Corian laughs very quietly at that, shaking her head. "I would be glad to visit your family, love--after all, they are my in-laws, now." She smiles brightly at that, adding, "And the mountain valley sounds lovely."

"It's a nice place certainly, and a lot better than all that moving they used to do. I like to go visit when I can. It's a nice place to just not think about anything. And to laugh at the sheep." Tarrant brings a thumb up to rub at the back of your hand gently. "In-laws..." he murmurs.

Corian's smile is rather wondering, then shifts to amused. "Riley is now your in-law, cha'trez--and Honalee. I do not know whether that will include you in her torment as well, but I thought that a warning might be kind. After all, she will consider you not quite so easily scared away, now."

Tarrant stifles a laugh, reddening slightly at the mention of Honalee torment. "I will remember to have proper fear, yes. I shall have to see if she sets tormenting me onto her list of things to do."

Corian gives one of your hands a quick squeeze, her expression sheepish and reassuring. "I will see if I can get you a grace period," she murmurs. She looks for a moment like she's going to change the subject, but then shakes her head fractionally. Gaze dropping to your hands, she says softly, "Tonight... she'll ask about it, about whether we..." Oh, dear, no, she can't quite say the words. Her blush isn't that obvious. Heck, neon signs are brighter. Sometimes.

Tarrant just turns terribly red as well. Wow, a matched pair! "She uh, ought not... I mean it's mean of her to..." He pauses and then blurts out quietly, "That's none of her business."

"It is not," Corian replies softly. "But that will not stop her from asking. It is something that she knows will embarrass me, and she seems to take pleasure in that." There's a pause, and Corian looks like she's going to say something else, but then she shakes her head, with a faint, rather nervous smile.

"Evil lady. It's not terribly nice to make fun of people so evilly." Tarrant just looks even redder, carefully rubbing at the back of your hand with his thumb, eyes on your hands.

Corian shakes her head quickly at that. "It is not that bad, cha'trez--she stops before she goes too far, and I love her dearly. After all, she also teased me about when I would find someone, and look at the result." She pauses a beat then. "Of course, I don't mean that we -should-... though that doesn't mean that we shouldn't, either. I mean... if you want..." She takes a breath, letting it out in a sigh and murmuring, "This is awkward."

"I think perhaps you have understated the case by a long shot," Tarrant murmurs with a further blush. "I...I am sorry that I am not making it less so. I have never... well... I mean..."

Corian's brows lift at that, and she looks just a bit surprised. "You have not?" She looks just a bit surprised by that, taking a moment to boggle before a hint of relief crosses her face. "I... well. That is not something that I would have expected to hear."

Tarrant turns even -brighter- red at that. "Seventy-seven year old virgins being less than common? I keep having this desire to find one of those sociologists that insist all young men stop being so at about seventeen and mention the fact, just to watch them keel over from statistical terror."

Corian dissolves into quiet laughter at that, though it's still rather nervous. "Well. Well. That would certainly be interesting, yes. We... we can just take our time, then, and learn about it together--when we want to, that is," she adds hastily, hardly wanting to push the issue.

You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.

"Whenever you like, love. I promise, I may be un-educated, but I'm sure I can improvise." Tarrant chuckles sheepishly. "Together?" He echoes quietly.

Now, Corian is not as indecisive as her player, but the thought of making this decision alone is a little much for her. "Perhaps," she suggests slowly, "We should do it whenever -we- like. After all, we -are- going to be doing it together, after all." And let's not even talk about doing it alone. Corian's not going to go there.

Tarrant is male, and it's been a -lot- longer than six minutes, he's probably game for this at the drop of the hat he isn't wearing. He's just terrified. Terror is an evil thing. "If we can figure out when that is, it sounds like a tremendous idea."

Terrified is likely a word that could be applied to Corian as well, at this particular moment. She's not about to set a date for this. She picked the wedding date, after all. It's your turn! Yeah. She's not about to say -that-, either. "When," she murmurs. "That is the question, I suppose."

Tarrant stifles a quiet chuckle, "I don't guess this is one of those things one exactly puts in one's plan-book. Thursday, half-past eight, random sex act."

Corian blinks for a moment, then laughs quietly, shaking her head. "That would take some of the fun out of it, I should think. It should be at least a little bit spontaneous, after all, I believe."

"We'll figure it out," Tarrant murmurs with a vaguely amused headshake, although he still looks decidedly nervous. "We're intelligent people, we can figure it out, right?"

"Right," Corian replies, after a moment. "It cannot be that difficult, after all." Honalee said that it wasn't. But Corian's not going to mention Honalee any more today, nope. She lifts her gaze to your face, finally, with a rather tentative smile.

Tarrant glances up as well, returning the smile in kind, then bending over your hand and placing upon it a very gentle kiss. "It would seem not, or likely they'd offer a degree in it or some such." Now wouldn't -that- be a lab.

Corian, tone holding a hint of humor, observes, "If the rumors are true, some of my classmates in college seemed intent on studying it, preferring it to their coursework." 'The discovery method' isn't just for organic chemistry any more.

Tarrant chuckles softly, nodding to that. "I seem to recall this was a similarly popular activity when I was in school as well. Although to be honest, I was generally far too interested in the destruction of things to pay too much notice."

Corian nods her agreement to that. "School was for studying," she murmurs, with a quick smile. She glances down for a moment, then back to you before she segues. "Have you ever thought about children, cha'trez? My family has asked." Okay, seeing how one -gets- children, when one is genetically compatible, the segue isn't that weird.

"About having them I assume?" Tarrant chuckles softly. "Rather than just about their existance in general?" He shakes his head slightly. "I cannot say that I have, but then considering the circumstances, well, I guess it's unsurpising I haven't. It would require effort, I mean besides the obvious, as I can well nigh guarantee the genetics aren't comparable."

Corian confirms, with a rather abashed smile, "About having them, yes, that is what I meant. That was the second thing my father said when I told him--grandchildren." She shakes her head, fond amusement mingling with regret in her expression. "And, yes, I would find our genetic compatibility rather unlikely."

"I'd think that would be something we'd want to wait until we knew we were involved in a somewhat more stable situation than we seem to have before us. But beyond that, I have no objection to children by any means. It'd be an excuse to have toys around." Tarrant grins sheepishly, "But if ever we do, we cannot tell my sister."

Corian nods a firm agreement to your words about waiting. "It would hardly be fair, otherwise," she murmurs, "To any of us. Waiting is certainly the way to go--we have time, after all." At that last, however, she laughs quietly. "Ah, is your sister, like Riley, a fan of noisy toys for siblings' children?"

Tarrant chuckles softly, nodding. "Or at least I would assume she would wish revenge. I have, uh, inflicted a goodly amount of evil on her via gifts for her children. I was particularly proud of the toy cars with air horns."

Corian winces just a bit at that, though she looks rather amused as well--and relieved. If we're discussing your evil, we're not talking about S-E-X. "Air horns? Cha'trez, we most certainly must not tell her, then. Air horns would be worthy of much revenge. Goodness."

Tarrant grins almost absently, bringing his other hand over to trace designs over yours. "They're good kids though, I think you would like them, especially the younger pair. They are insanely cute, and just as insanely fond of stories."

Corian's smile at that is bright, if a bit wistful. "I would be very glad to entertain them with stories, if your sister and her husband would not object."

"I doubt they would by any means," Tarrant replies with an amused grin. "They let me do it after all, and you can just imagine the themes behind most of mine. Generally the abuse of younger sisters named Sarah."

Corian shakes her head, amusement taking over her expression. "I suppose, then, that I should tell tales of the abuse of elder brothers named Tarrant? It would be only fair, after all. And your sister would certainly approve."

Tarrant stifles a chuckle, shaking his head. "What? Encourage them to beat up on their poor, battered, and oh-so-terribly abused Uncle Terry? Now that would be -cruel-..."

Corian inquires curiously, "Do your stories about your sister encourage them to beat up on their mother? If that is the case, then they certainly should hear the stories."

Tarrant grins wryly, "No, see, they know better. But they already batter me so terribly as it -is-..." He's trying to look pitiful and put upon, and failing.

You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.

But Corian is vulnerable to pitiful and put upon, even if it isn't expressed all that well. "Poor Uncle Terry," she murmurs, with a soft laugh. "I suppose I could tell stories that would make them less prone to uncle-abuse. Gileni fairy-tales are absolutely wonderful. Everyone should hear those."

Tarrant squeezes your hand gently, smiling fondly at you. "Especially since I'm getting old and decrepit, really." His finger trailings move up your wrists and to your forearm, delighting in normally hidden skin.

Corian's gaze flicks briefly to her forearm, then, as she smiles, back to your face. "I thought you said that, as relative ages go, you were ten. That is hardly old and decrepit--I am robbing the cradle."

Tarrant's fingers continue their random patterns, obviously fascinated. "Um, I'm a very mature ten?"

"The most mature ten year-old I have met, yes," Corian replies, with a very quiet laugh. She peers at you for a moment, then back to your fingers, managing to be both puzzled and amused. "Are you having fun, cha'trez?"

Tarrant's fingers pull to a halt, and he looks sheepish, ducking his head briefly before looking up to nod. "Sorry, I guess I shouldn't. It's just... Well normally you're wearing long sleeves..."

Corian shakes her head quickly to that. "If you are enjoying yourself, then I see no reason why you should stop. I was just curious as to why--and I should have guessed." Rather sheepish herself, she adds, "I believe this is the only clothing I own that does not have long sleeves." She pauses a beat, with a bit of a blush. "Well... almost all, that is."

Tarrant's fingers resume their gentle tracery. "Almost?" He questions softly. "I know you prefer more covering clothing, but you have such lovely arms."

Corian glances briefly to her arms, with the briefest shake of her head. "Thank you, cha'trez, I am glad that you think so. And... yes." The rest of her words come a bit more slowly. "There is something that I purchased... well, it was for tonight, though I did not anticipate that tonight would come quite so quickly."

"For our wedding night?" Tarrant questions, his tone one of curiosity, and his fingers edging upwards on the expanse of uncovered arm.

Corian inclines her head in a brief gesture. "For that, yes," she replies, with a quick smile. She's very aware of your fingers on her arm, though she manages not to show that too much, and she seems generally content with the situation.

"And it possesses short sleeves?" Tarrant adds another question while his fingers still continue to work through a system of loops and curlicues.

Corian shakes her head at that. "It has no sleeves," she replies, rather quietly. She lifts a hand to trace a line along one shoulder. "There are straps, of course, but no sleeves." Yeah, she's likely to wear something strapless, sure. She'd be paranoid about it falling off, if she did.

Tarrant's brows lift at that, grinning rather abashedly. "It sounds terribly lovely. But then as stunningly gorgeous as you are, how could it be anything but."

Corian murmurs a soft thankyou, looking just a bit nervous, then offers, very quietly, "I could show you, if you like? I brought it... well, just in case."

Tarrant lets his fingers drift off your arm, nodding with a sheepish grin. "I'd like that. I'm evil, I'm scum, I'm male..."

Corian gets lightly to her feet, her fingers brushing lightly against your hand. "You are my husband," she adds, with a bright smile that is only a bit nervous. "You are allowed. And you are not -evil-, not when you say such lovely things to me."

Tarrant shifts in his chair to watch you with a bemused grin. "Awww, not evil? I've been working so hard on it though. I never miss an evilness lesson."

Corian, with a chuckle, amends, as she takes up her bag, "You are not evil to me, then. To other people, I daresay that evil is entirely possible." After a moment of wavering, she moves into the bathroom. No, she's not going to change in front of you.

Tarrant doesn't move from his chair, although he does shift to be able to better see when you emerge from the bathroom. Turning, he seats himself in the chair backwards, resting his chin on crossed arms comfortably.

Corian

This is definitely indoor clothing. The pale blue color suits Corian
quite nicely, as does the flowing style of the garments. The robe itself covers Corian very nicely, tied in front with two wisps of chiffon. More of that same chiffon is inserted in triangular panels in the satin of the robe, giving it a rather cloudlike appearance. The hem and the ends of the wide sleeves are edged with lace. The negligee itself somewhat more daring. It still falls to her feet, with lace at the edges, but is sleeveless and has a neckline that is, as far as Corian's clothing goes, daring. The back is daring by much more folks' standards, as it drops somewhat lower, with satin cord lacing the v-shaped opening. The negligee is cut fairly close to her body, clinging to her curves. Overall, the clothing is elegant and lovely, and quite suited to Corian. On the third finger of her left hand, she wears a ring made of interlaced layers of malachite and gray, an interlooping and entirely complex object.

There should be a soundtrack to this. Corian's entrance just begs for music. She is decidedly tentative as she comes out of the bathroom. And, yes, she's definitely wearing the robe that she purchased along with the negligee, though her hands drift briefly to the tie as she emerges, beofre moving back to her sides. "Well," she says, with a brief smile, "This is it."

Tarrant's jaw simply drops, although he looks quite impressed as well. Eventually he manages to haul up his jaw and climb to his feet. "Corian... oh -my-..." He looks sheepish, taking a step towards you. "Do I get hit if I wolf-whistle? You look...-amazing-..."

Corian shakes her head at the question, embarrassment and pleasure warring on her face. The latter finally wins, and she smiles. "Of course I would not hit you, cha'trez. Thank you--I am glad that you like it." There's a brief pause as she considers--the robe has long sleeves, she said the thing had no sleeves. Finally, she seems to make a decision, and takes off the robe, moving a step closer so that she may fold it neatly over the back of a chair.

Tarrant takes another step, crossing the intervening space and bringing his hands up to your shoulders, gentle, and frankly awed. "It suits you well...as graceful as you are...and..." He's coming up short again. "I find myself at a decided lack of words to even -attempt- to encompass your loveliness." Deciding that when words fail, a kiss will do, he leans down to attempt to do so, attempting somehow by it, to convey his appreciation of the sight of you.

Well, the kiss saves Corian from thanking you for another compliment--though she's hardly going to complain at being praised. And she's also not going to complain about being kissed--in fact, she kisses back. (...five-Mississippi-six-Mississippi... stop!) She looks up to you with a quick smile, one hand still resting along the side of your face. "I am glad that you like it."

"I like it very much," As if Tarrant really had to point that out, it's well obvious from his expression. Half-grinning he covers your hand with his own. "Mine..."

That gets a smile of longer duration, and Corian shifts her hand to take your own. "Yours," she agrees, adding, "Legally, now, even. Is that not amazing?"

Tarrant steps a few steps over, attempting to coax you into following, shifting to sit on the edge of the bed. "For everybody to see, by the laws of man and the heart alike. Nobody can deny that we belong one unto the other."

You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.

Corian, after a moment of hesitation, follows to sit next to you on the bed. "Not even the Department," she murmurs. But then she shakes her head, apparently dismissing the subject. "But there will be time enough to think about them when we have to go back to the Complex.

"Not even the Department. Yeah, time enough and tide. Besides, they didn't give me a lick of trouble about leaving when I told them why." Tarrant grins absently, looking amused. "Although I did then endure much teasing, not that I minded." His fingers trail along your upper arm now.

Corian looks rather relieved at your news, if a bit amused as well. "Poor cha'trez," she murmurs, with a brief laugh. "I am most glad that there was no difficulty about your absence, though. I have to say that I would have felt a bit guilty if there had been." Oh, yes, she's starting to get somewhat more nervous. She stops talking with a brief shake of her head, and a rueful murmur about rambling.

Tarrant cannot really seem to control the actions of his fingers, carefully bringing his fingers up to your collarbone, gently brushing along the bone. "They could hardly object, as a number of them are married as well."

Corian's nod is very small, apparently to keep from disturbing your fingers. "I am most glad." She pauses a beat. "I already said that, didn't I?" she adds, with a low laugh. "Not objecting is good, though. Very... good."

Tarrant's fingers pause once again, and he gives you a sheepish look, "Should I, uh, stop doing that? I seem to be...causing you some confusion."

Corian shakes her head quickly. "I... no, it is not confusion, but I am somewhat... distracted, I suppose. It is rather novel, but... well, no, I would rather you did not stop." And she never had a bridal shower with someone to give her risque books. Her smile is rather tentative.

Tarrant's fingers resume their gentle motions, and he smiles to that. "Distracted is fine I suppose...It is novel for me as well, but...well, it is so -tempting-..."

Corian, a hint of amusement working its way into her gray eyes, inquires, "I am a temptress, now? How exciting--perhaps I can add that to my resume. Though, of course," she adds quickly, "This is hardly something that I would do... mm, professionally."

Tarrant grins brightly at that, bringing up his second hand to your opposite arm, but he nods. "It'd be worth it though for the startled looks. Imagine the Jansites' expressions." Carefully he leans in and gently kisses your collarbone, where his hand had been tracing lazy circles a moment before.

Corian starts to say something that is likely a snide and derogatory comment about the Jansites, but, no, you're being somewhat more distracting, now. Jansites? What are they? She doesn't quite breathe for a moment, then remembers the usefulness of oxygen. "Was I being tempting again?" she asks softly. " I do apologize, cha'trez."

Tarrant shifts to straighten up, to regard you with questioning apology. "Please don't apologize, I'm altogether willing to be tempted. Tempt away. Just thump me on the nose if I become annoying."

Corian shakes her head. "You are not being annoying, love," she replies, with a smile. "It is just... the newness, that is all. And, well, any tempting that I am doing is altogether unintentional. They did not have a course of study in that, either, at university."

"Then on sheer natural ability, you are quite talented," Tarrant murmurs, as he shifts back in to steal another light kiss or two along collarbone and neck. "I am glad you had no such class," he murmurs, his softly drawled voice right at your ear. "Or I'd be even more doomed than I am."

Corian shivers very gently at the kisses, though it seems to be a good thing. "Are you sure you have not done this before?" she inquires, half-teasing. After a brief pause, she inquires, "Would you like... I mean... tonight? It is traditional, after all, and even we can follow some traditions." That last sentence tumbles out, before she catches herself and, with a decidedly nervous smile, just looks at you.

"Never, no..." Tarrant murmurs quietly, swiping another feathery kiss. "You're inspirational." He pulls back enough at the tumbling sentence, regarding you sheepishly, returning the nervous smile. "We've been very traditional so far certainly..."

Corian leans closer to claim a kiss of her own. She says softly, with a brief shake of her head, "It should not be this big a deal, to make us both get so nervous. If it is meant to happen, then it will."

Tarrant is more than willing to allow kisses to be claimed, nodding to your words. Chuckling sheepishly he agrees, "It is a silly thing to be so afraid, we both love each other, we can figure this out." He grins almost devlishly before he moves once again to pay careful attention to exposed skin. "Trial and error."

Corian reaches with one hand to touch your cheek, inquiring, "Could I make a suggestion, cha'trez?" There is a hint of her own mischief, though her manner is extremely tentative as well. "This arrangement does not quite seem fair." She plucks lightly at your coat with two fingers. "I am wearing... not much, after all."

Tarrant regards you in sheepish amusement, but grinning he shrugs off his jacket, folding it neatly and setting it aside. The bolo tie is deftly unclasped and set aside as well. "I am more than willing to play fair." He pauses, looking amused. "Well, with -you-. The rest of the world must endure my cheating."

Corian chuckles very quietly. "I believe that I can ignore the difficulties of the rest of the world. And thank you, cha'trez. That does look a bit more comfortable." She reaches to touch one of the buttons of the shirt, then lowers her hand, with a quick smile. "The color--it is a lovely shirt."

You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.

Tarrant carefully unbuttons the top button, the ole holding his collar clasped shut. "I am glad you like it. The rather overly helpful clerk attempted to tell me that white was a more appropriate color, but I liked this shirt." He turns the color to expose a brushed cotton felt inner surface. "It is lined with a terribly soft substance. And with the impending cooler weather, that greatly appealed."

Corian's brows lift at that. "How ingenious," she murmurs. "That certainly does seem to make sense, to choose a shirt that is practical as well as lovely." She pauses a beat, then shakes her head. "I sound like I should be advertising these shirts." And, speaking of the cooler weather, Corian -is- wearing relatively little, so it shouldn't be surprising that she shivers briefly.

Noting the shiver, Tarrant shifts in closer, providing some additional warmth. "I'm partial to warmth," he murmurs. "Poor love, you look cold. Perhaps we should retire beneath blankets to continue this investigation?"

Corian seems more than willing to steal warmth, but she nods at your suggestion, getting to her feet and offering a hand. "That sounds like a wonderful idea, love. I am not quite used to wearing so little, that is all, but blankets will help very much."

Tarrant accepts the hand, moving to follow you. He pauses however, and disentangles himself long enough to tug a window open a bit, then switching off the lights as he moves to clamber into the bed with a softly pleased sigh. "Blankets are wonderful inventions."

Corian, having gotten into bed as you were dealing with the window and the lights, shifts closer to you. "I happen to be rather fond of them, too, yes. And beds--this is an excellent bed." And, alas, she is starting to sound a bit tired, inspired by the presence of the blanket and the warmth and the bed.

Tarrant shifts in close, moving as if to lean to attempt another kiss, but brings himself up short at your tone. "Tired, my love?" One arm moves up and over you in the more traditional evening ritual of curling in for sleep.

Corian nods, with a very quiet sigh. "I am, cha'trez--I am sorry. Father commed this morning rather early. He had misjudged the time, and I was not able to get back to sleep."

Tarrant brings his hand down to rub gently at your back. "No need to be sorry my love. It's been a long day, and now it is very late. It's time to sleep."

Corian bites back on a yawn, curling just a bit closer. "Thank you for understanding," she murmurs, already half-asleep. "I hope that you sleep well, my husband."

"And you too, my life's star." Tarrant cuddles in, still gently rubbing at your back. "Sweet dreams, and thank you again, I cannot thank you enough."

Corian murmurs a drowsy, "You're welcome, cha'trez. It makes me happy, too. Very, very happy." And with that, she drifts off to sleep, nestled against you.

Tarrant does not sleep for quite some time, instead simply remaining curled up with you and listening to the ocean, but at last, he too, sleeps, quite deeply.

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