[hr][center][h1][color=B8860B]Theo Callahan[/color] & [color=crimson]Isabel MacGilios[/color][/h1][/center][center]Collab between [@beyond visions] and [@Vashonn][hr][url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6nIGjg46vnE]We Are The Ones- Son Lux[/url][hr][/center] 
First, it was a crisp clean breath of air inhaled as he planted one foot after the other. The beat of his heart matched the rhythm of the war drums. Except, no, these were not war drums, not tonight. With his eyelids sliding over the blue irises, he slightly swayed his head in the direction of these vanguard drummers. There was no doubt that they were combatants, pounding to the musical existence purposed to honor the majesty of their king. 

The way everyone stood before the groom, rendering him their undivided attention while walking down the aisle, made Theo feel as if he won a war, like he some kind of hero. Raising his right fist, Cassie's palm was curled around his wrist. This was to symbolize her as his right-hand. To allow her to accompany him as he approached the arch, was an act to honor the second-in-command and to display her blessing in the superior's decision. Declan will do the same to the Renaissance, unless of course her right-hand forbade to give her his blessing. 

With Cassie at such a close proximity to Theo, she could sense something... not right. Although he wore what appeared to be a neutral straight face, she could only barely hear beneath the sound of the drums, his rapid, nervous breathing and notice the slight shaking of his arm. Cassie could likely feel his accelerated pulse with her hand pressed against the vein in his wrist. It was fear blended in foreign forms of anxiety, it was rare to ever sense Theo's heart accelerating due to something other than adrenaline. But what was he scared of? 

Once reaching the wedding arch, Cassie loosen and released her grip on Theo, retreating behind the arch but still only a few feet away from the Spartan. Now, Theo stood by the wedding officiant, a muse, as most marriages are orchestrated by the faction responsible for the festivities of Churchill. 

The sun was setting, Theo could not help but be reminded of when the sun rose just that very morning, how he was just so confident then. Where is that confidence now? Then, he was able to just so easily scoop her up into his arms, twice. Though now, Theo could not help but repeatedly adjust his tuxedo, trying to force some comfort while reminding himself that he did not look like an overgrown child playing dress up. 

Soon enough, the drums stopped...

The distinct whine of horsehair across stretched metal string bellowed into the still pulsing air, as an orchestra of violin, viola, cello, and bass cued in upon the last beating of the drums. A delicate timbre danced off the hairs of the audience gathered around Colony Square, many dressed in as well of apparel as they could manage, though it was quite obvious that a fair number of the Muses were better suited than most, thanks to Madame Saint-Claire's endeavors. Were it not the Renaissance's own wedding, many would argue that Madame had dressed the most lavishly, with a great billowing blue gown pushing outwards around her, forcing those seamstresses who stood beside her to stand a tad bit further, leaving the Madame with much more room so close to the wedding arch.

As the droning of the single chord grew and flourished, faces began to turn toward the mouth of the aisle, each one peering for a glance at the bride. A thousand of them were gathered there, each cramped between the aisle and each side of the street, some stood atop roofs, others watched from windows, even a couple who leaned from a balcony above the colony's lone casino, Jack of All Trade. Each one gazed to the rear of the aisle, the long white satin walkway stretching to where, now, stood the Renaissance.

The dress had been made from a mix of the finest crimson and silver silk ever spun by the seamstresses, perfectly fit around Isabel's body in masterful tailoring, modest in its display of her snow-white skin, though still accentuating the curves of her physique in a near-provocative manner. The train of the dress spread far behind the Renaissance by several yards, which was kept up from the ground by a single younger bridesmaid, who was surprisingly dressed delicately, as well. Isabel's hair had been unbound from its tight bun in which it was usually kept, flowing down to the edges of her shoulder blades; dark, wavy, shining, beautiful. Perhaps the only physical trait which had been left untouched from earlier that day was by the mask she wore, though it looked to have been polished and carefully treated to look as if it had just been crafted.

Though she kept her arm low, it could still be seen as they walked that Declan's hand was gingerly gracing Isabel's open right palm, symbolizing in the same fashion the importance of his position beside her as they walked. Isabel's mind churned and moiled, the tea she had drank only moments before already seeming to wear off, doing little to pacify her cascading thoughts.

It had seemed to be a great while to her before they had arrived at the end of the aisle when Declan removed his grasp of Isabel's arm, leaving the young bride to walk the few short steps before she stood beside her groom, such a great height above her. In that short time, the strings of the orchestra were drowned out by a sudden rush of thoughts to the girl's mind, a festering of untouched ghosts suddenly jumping to the forefront, jabbing at her with a vile hatred.

[color=crimson][i]You'll never find love.[/i][/color]

Just then, Isabel blinked, a strange numbness jumping into her head as all of the thoughts seemed to ease and drip away. She turned her head to gaze up at Theo, who had seemed so confident prior to their parting, yet now stood in a shrunken manner, though it wouldn't have appeared obvious to those who weren't standing as close to the Spartan as she was. She was perplexed then, in that moment, though perhaps the mask upon her face had covered her confusion, but the feeling was cast aside as she stared again into his eyes, and she spoke softly to him,

[color=crimson]"You would give me your heart..."[/color]

There was a lull in the orchestra, before finally, the music ceased, and there were no other sounds to be heard, but one, by Theodore.

[color=crimson]"And so I give you mine."[/color]

With his jaw tightened, teeth clamped over each other and not lip moving, Theo squeezed the single sentence from his throat, [color=B8860B]"I will honor that..."[/color] To anyone at distance, even the approaching officiant would only have heard grunts from the vanguard, yet with Isabel at such a close proximity, his words were audible enough to be received accurately. 

[i]"We have been invited here today to witness and celebrate the uniting in marriage of Renaissance Iseabal MacGilios and Spartan Theodore Tobias Callahan. They are taking the first step of their new beginning-- their life together..."[/i] 

As the well-suited officiant eloquently recited his introduction, the reality of this bond between the two factions morphed and transformed into the personal bond between two people- a man and woman, intertwined through marriage. The very voice of this officiant blurred from Theo's ears as he could not resist the battling thoughts that bubbled in his head. These thoughts considered an action that would prove to Isabel his declared honor, yet it may sacrifice a portion of the respect the vanguards have for their king...

[i]"Spartan Theodore Callahan,"[/i] Just as the officiant called his name, Theo retained focus on the wedding, tearing him away from his wandering thoughts. [i]"Do you take Renaissance Iseabal MacGilios to be your wedded wife, to live together in marriage?  Do you promise to love her, comfort her, honor and keep her for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and health, and forsaking all others, be faithful only to her, for as long as you both shall live?"[/i]

The most interesting part of this ceremony was Theo being asked these questions. Documents and contracts were already signed to promise and declare this alliance, yet this wasn't [i]just[/i] an alliance. It was a marriage, something that allowed Theo and Isabel to unite their factions beyond just their lifetime, since this meant that the two could create an offspring that would lead the two factions further to unity, just as his or her mother and father did. In fact, this marriage makes it possible for Theo and Isabel to function like a royal family, even to the point that their descendants may only distantly remember when their was a separation between vanguard and muse.

Yet this ceremony was not about dominance, control, and power, a document could simply declare that. This ceremony imitated one that many rehearse in declaration of love. It was a wedding, an artificial means to generate an authentic emotion. Love, did he feel that yet? Not yet, but loyalty. Does he feel that now? Yes. He will give her his heart, and so she will give him hers. Yes, they have loyalty, thus they will be bound for love-- with every part him, he believes that. 

[color=B8860B]"I do."[/color] 

[i]"Renaissance Iseabal MacGilios, do you take Spartan Theodore Callahan to be your wedded husband to live together in marriage?  Do you promise to love him, comfort him, honor and keep him for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and health and forsaking all others, be faithful only to him so long as you both shall live?"[/i] 

[color=crimson]"I do."[/color]

She hadn't thought much of it, having only mimicked Theodore with those two simple words, yet as they eased their way from her lips and made passage into the air, Isabel felt the rest of the world slip from her focus, her mind shifting away once again to deep, dark thoughts. She remembered disgusted slurs, absolute abhorrence, spiteful stares that would stab past her as if she were a vicious animal. In a moment when all was meant to be a part of happiness, the Renaissance thought only of being enveloped in hatred, sickened by it, swaying just slightly on her feet before steadying herself in recognition of her surroundings. Carefully she swept away each thought, replacing herself in the moment, each time drifting back again to another time of darkness, until finally there were no more memories to bring forward in her mind, and she once again stood in a blank trance, tilting her head just so to stare up at Theodore's own gaze. For a moment then, she felt a sort of warmth fill her chest, which she couldn't help but reply to with a smile.

[i]"They have formalized the existence of the bond between them with words spoken. Therefore, it is my pleasure to now pronounce them husband and wife. You may now kiss your bride!"[/i] 

And so it came time to confront the very action that seeded fright in him. What he wished to do could gain respect from Isabel, yet disrespect from his faction. The vanguards would assume, and perhaps even accuse their king of grovelling to the muses. But was he even a king at all if constantly in fear of what his own vanguards may slander about? No, he was purposed to ensure the security of the colony - as for how he chose to honor his wife, that was up to him. This wedding, this entire day, was not a day about Muse and Vanguard. It was about Isabel and Theodore, two people who happened to rule over a faction. Whatever the Vanguards may assume, it no longer mattered to him. Because in the end Theo acted by the will of his passion. It is the reason why he can become impulsive, yet heartfelt.

Theo dropped to one knee, taking Isabel's right hand and slowly drew his lips upon it, kissing her as if he were a loyal subject addressing royalty. Then in that moment, it was quite ironic to reminisce that just during sun rise, he spoke of giving Isabel a [i]real[/i] kiss. To the Vanguards, nothing was more [i]unreal[/i] than to witness their towering commander and king fall to his knee below the Renaissance queen. The faces of these soldiers turned from comfort to frowns of disgust or disapproval in reaction to such [i]controversy[/i].

But as for the Muses, it was a surprise, to say the least. Though perhaps, a good one, a surprise that proved Theo being capable of humility. This was something no one would forget about, especially not the Muses, as near the wedding arch an artist stood present, recording the scene with a stroke of his brush. To Theo, this was a matter no longer concerning submission and dominance, but sacrifice; showing not the Muses, but to Isabel, that he [i]is[/i] humble.

A stunned expression fell over the Renaissance's visage, pulling at the simper which had previously been fixed upon her lips, tugging them open in a subtle astonishment. Below her now kneeled the same man who, throughout their meeting that same day, had flaunted his size and strength, yet before the entire [i]colony[/i], was showing a docility that had perhaps never surfaced before. Though she couldn't help but feel flattered by her groom's demure, Isabel's mind viciously tore her trance away.

[color=crimson][i]This will [/i]not[i] bode well.[/i][/color] Closing her gawked jaw, Isabel swiftly fixed a feigned smile in an attempt to allay any discussion from the other colonists, of which there was sure to be plenty among them in whispered words.

Theo was not sure if she approved of his action, or if she disapproved of it. Her expression seemed to accept it, yet he was still worried because there was the chance that Isabel found it inappropriate. Theo rose to his feet, wishing to kiss her again, this time either on the lips or at least on the cheek. But since he was not sure if Isabel was disappointed in him, Theo decided to simply keep silent, hoping she had anything to say while he folded his arms, ready to escort her down the aisle. 

Graciously, the newly-wed wife raised an arm to grasp at her husband's elbow, while the officiant announced the consummation of their marriage. Staring out at the crowd, Isabel watched as the Muses gathered around applauded in praise, many of which she had suspected to be deterred from any celebration of the event, which made her smile. Yet, there was a strangeness in the air, as if something weren't quite right. Some Vanguards were applauding, yet those who were lacked a deal of enthusiasm, and what seemed to be a greater number had yet to lift their hands at all, some pocketing them in a sort of protest. She felt Theodore's arm tense, clear to her that he had noticed it, too. Silently, they strode back down the aisle together, Cassandra and Declan following shortly behind them, leaving the room needed for the bridesmaid to carry the bride's train.[hr]
[center][url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oeOGDedfO4A] In The Event Of A Sudden Loss- Greg Haines[/url][/center][hr]The Painting Room was at the rear of the Theatre, purposefully sectioned away at the end of a hall between the other more delicate hand crafts and the aural composition halls, to ensure there was a near absolute silence to be had for those who were busily brushing their conceptions onto canvas. It was here that one was left to think by themselves, and it wasn't uncommon for the Muses here to be driven mad by their own minds. Perhaps that was the appeal of the place for some, for it was only in complete silence they could finally let themselves think, lest the chaotic sounds from the world outside further jumble their scattered thoughts.

At the center of the room, there sat a lone painter, gingerly dipping his brush between the pool of water he had beside him and the various array of acrylic he had spread across his palette, tapping away at his canvas. Before him stood his subject, the pair of newly-weds, which he would glance to occasionally to study before returning back to his work.

Theo was posed facing slightly side-ways with his left arm wrapped around Isabel's waist. Though with his right hand, Theo repeatedly kept shifting from his hand resting in his pocket, to readjusting the collar of his tux. But seemingly enough, the tight-fitting suit no longer bothered him, well, not as much as their wedding ceremony did, more accurately his approach to kissing his bride. Theo could tell the artist was becoming quite annoyed with his fidgeting, though Theo was extremely worried about what Isabel thought. All this night, Theo hoped that kissing her the way he did, would please and honor her, yet now he feared that he did the exact opposite of that.

With each adjustment of Theo's collar, Isabel's own jaw tightened, knowing that sooner or later they would have to speak of what had occurred. The walk to the Theatre was shrouded in silence, and had stung at the front of her mind with every step. There was clearly something eating at Theodore, and Isabel knew fully well what it was, but struggled to find the words to begin.

Finally, the words fumbled forth, feebly carrying their message with them. [color=crimson]"I'm, ehm, flattered you decided to wear the suit,"[/color] her mind was instantly flooded with regret. How could she have started with something so trivial as a suit? Granted, the Madame had tailored it herself, though Isabel was certain there was some sort of ploy behind her sewing it so tightly, whatever it was.

[color=B8860B]"Oh,"[/color] Theo wished Isabel said that sooner, like when it was a concern to him before he knelt down and kissed her hand. [color=B8860B]"Eh, thank you,"[/color] he whispered back, holding his smile for the picture. [color=B8860B]"Um-- Isabel... Can we... can we talk?"[/color] Theo broke away from his pose, sliding his arm off of Isabel. [color=B8860B]"I just need to know... What I did back there-- Was that wrong to do-- it's not something traditionally done... Did I ruin the ceremony for you?"[/color]

Isabel cleared her throat, placing a gentle hand around the Spartan's wrist, pulling it back into place around her waist as the old painter behind the canvas peered around with a rather miffed expression. [color=crimson]"Theodore..."[/color] she let herself trail off, pulling together the words of her next sentence. [color=crimson]"I... Don't know how I [i]should[/i] feel about it... The way your Vanguard reacted, the way they stared... Theodore, you honored me, in front of the whole of Churchill... I'm touched, truly, yet..."[/color] Her words began to strain in anguish and confusion, her expression turning forlorn and grim.

[color=crimson]"I..."[/color]

She pulled away from him, storming toward the exit into the hallway with the back of her hand gracing her lip, a tear beginning to stream down her pale cheek. The oaken door swung open, and she quickly passed through, the tail of her dress pulling along behind her.

Theo did not want to be assertive, aggressive, the way he was in her war room. His skin was squeezed against a suit he has surrendered to for her sake. And now his wife was fleeing from him-- instantly, it was as if time itself slowed down, and as for sound, he heard no other but the sudden soft sounds of his humming. He specifically only hummed through the intensity of one emotion, and this time it was not rage. In sorrow, more accurately, when experiencing loss, humming was his means of breathing. To cancel out all commotion, in exchange for silence through a memorized symphony borrowed from a childhood lullaby, the one his mother once sung to him. The earliest memory of family was the only resource he knew possible to save him from the ever consuming void of loneliness. The void of loneliness, it acts like oblivion- the state of being unaware or unconscious of what is happening, almost as if you do not exist, because no one [i]identifies[/i] that you do. You only identify something or someone, if you care about it. And though his conscious mind could not understand these concepts deeply, Theo felt them, internally.

Even as he hummed, the familiar lyrics of his mother's lullaby was now replaced by Isabel's words, the ones that swore her heart be given to him. If Theo believed she was lying to him, he would not be sad at this very moment, nor would he have said, 'I do' under the wedding arch. Instead, that drew him to only one conclusion, he [i]lost[/i] her heart. Why Theo lost it, he did not know. But neither was Theo going to allow his question to be left unanswered. If anything, he at least deserved a reason.

Bursting into a sprint, suit began busting at the seams. He chased her, but he was not charging at her. No, because as soon as he was within earshot of her, he cried out, [color=B8860B]"Wait! Isabel, let me at least know-- Did I-- No-- I [i]did[/i]-- I did this to us, didn't I?"[/color]

Already toward the end of the hallway, Isabel turned her head to stare back at her husband, glistening streaks flowing across her cheeks and dripping down onto her chest. For a moment, she stopped, staring back at Theo, her thoughts racing as she thought of how scared she was for the future. All in one day, she had become overwrought with uncertainty and terror. Now it finally bubbled to the surface, and she only thought to flee lest it be seen.

[color=crimson]"It isn't about what you [i]did[/i],"[/color] her voice was strained and her words cracked. There was a pause in her speech, letting her next few words sink into Theodore's thoughts. [color=crimson]"It is about what will happen next."[/color] She turned away, leaving the Spartan to stand alone in the hall, the seams of his suit having split and torn, the clarity he had sought being cast into ambiguity, stirring up a biting, fierce bitterness inside of him.