[CENTER][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/260127/37cce1f6.png[/img][/CENTER][hr][center][i]“The truth is only hidden to those who do not seek it…”[/i][/center][hr]
Axan woke to a headache. 

That wasn't particularly surprising; for once Axan had decided to obey the dress code--it was the Millennium Festival, after all--and that meant organizing a great deal of clothing that she hadn't worn in a loooong time. If she'd had her way it would be a button down blouse and pressed trousers, but there was no way she would be getting away with anything less than a floor-length gown, not with her dignity intact. So she'd spent the past several weeks corresponding with several designers and tailors, trying to figure out what the hell she waas going to wear. 

For a while, she just let herself lay there. Maybe if she ignored the headache, it would go away. Another ten minutes passed before she let out a long sigh and reached for the painkiller bottle next to her bed, popping two pills and washing them down with a sip from the ever-present cup of water. She let her head fall against her pillow again. Ten minutes for it to take the edge off the headache. Then she'd start to operate.

Half an hour later she reluctantly hauled herself out of bed. She grabbed up her phone from where he'd left it to charge and checked the time. Nine in the morning. Quite a ways from when she had to get going, but still later than she wished it was. It was going to take plenty of time to actually get herelf ready for something like this, she thought. Time enough right now, anyway. She heaved a heavy yawn, then hacked her hair into a haphazard low ponytail. Tossing on a t-shirt, sweatpants, and coat to ward against the New Years chill, she headed for the door. First thing to do was pick up the dress.
[hr]
In the back of a limousine, Axan rolled her eyes.

She'd initially planned 100% on just...walking to the Cathedral Incepta. And why not? She only lived a little ways away, after all, a few minutes' walk ordinarily. But she'd just had to choose to dress up today, hadn't she? And when she was getting ready to start walking, she acknowledged to herself that walking on the street, among crowds, in expensive heels and a brand new floor length gown was...[i]probably[/i] a really bad idea. So she'd sent for a limo to ferry her the four blocks from her house to the beginning of the Cathedral procession's red carpet. 

It wasn't all bad; it meant that she'd had extra time to do up her hair exactly as she liked it, a high ponytail carefully tied with two delicate braids. It had been quite a long while since she'd worn something like this; hopefully she remembered how the whole thing went. At that thought, the automobile rolled to a silent stop. Showtime.

While the proper procedure was probably letting someone else open the limo door for her, she ignored that, popping it as soon as the car stopped moving fully, turning in her seat, and rising to her heel-clad feet. As she emerged into the open, the sunset caught the fine white satin of her gown ablaze down to the lace fringe of the long sleeves, and the cape of red-orange tulle that floated behind her looked for all the world like wings of fire. All just like the designer had predicted; man, he'd really earned his paycheck. The clicking of her heels was swallowed by the plush carpet as she swept along. Paparazzi heads rotated, a few sporting nervous looks as they tracked the sheathed sword that she rested comfortably against her shoulder and had no intention to let go of. She stopped moving only when she came to--

[i]"Your Holiness, Scion of Fire Sturke! A question!"[/i]

--A reporter. She let out of a faint sigh as the microphone was shoved straight into her face and wished that she could reach up and shove it back down again. [i]"It's no secret that you have a contentious relationship with the rest of the Sturke family. According to the guest list, the Honorable Yulian Sturke will be attending the party after the ceremony. What are--[/i]" 

He was interrupted by any pretense of solemnity dissolving into the huge smile that bloomed across Axan's face and the unexpected warmth in her voice. "[color=FC4900]Yulian's coming? Really? You're sure?[/color]" She tossed her head back in an exultant laugh. "[color=FC4900]Ahahahaha, oh [i]Goddess, thank you![/i] He's going to look SO stiff and awkward in formalwear, it's gonna be hysterical![/color]" Her free left hand reached up and tossed her hair as she stared straight into the lens of the camera. "[color=FC4900]Haven't seen you in ages, Yuli! Let's get together over dinner tonight, hey?[/color]"

With an exaggerated wink, she brushed past the reporter, leaving him somewhat bewildered in her wake, then trotted up the stairs and into the Cathedral proper. Wouldn't be too long before Marqué showed up now. She'd get him to crack a smile this time for [i]sure.[/i]