Marriage Portrait
The wind blows through her hair as she slowly inhales her last few breaths before eternally committing herself to her one, true love. She will not miss the singularity. She sits, stroking her elegant hands through her brunette hair and keeping her feet tucked underneath her in the cushioned seat.
Footsteps echo along the wooden boards of the floor as her dear friend approaches the patio, steadying a cup of green chá in her hands.
"Here," her friend says, smiling comfortingly. "Drink this. It'll help to calm your nerves."
The soon-to-be-bride smiles and takes the cup gratefully, letting the warmth of the chá and the coolness of the breeze mollify her anxiety.
Her friend takes a assento seguinte to her. "It's early. Why are you awake at this hour?"
"I couldn't sleep," she responds, setting her teacup, xícara de chá down after taking a few, sparing sips.
Her companion nods knowingly. "I understand. The pre-marriage anxiety is always a little unsettling. You'll be just fine, though. There's nothing to worry about." She takes a ganso, gander at her watch and furrows her eyebrows in thought. "We should start getting you ready, actually. We don't have much time. Your makeup and hair will be very time-consuming, not to mention that you wanted to take a shower, right?"
"Yeah." The bride slowly gets to her feet. "You don't think I'm going to trip on my way down the aisle, do you?" She allows herself a little, sing-song laugh.
"If you trip, your dad will be right there to catch you, Emmy! Don't worry about it," her friend chirps. "And if he doesn't catch you, I will."
"Thanks, Jordan." She grabs a towel and hop-skips briskly into the baby blue bathroom, turning on the faucet and letting the hot water run. I hope everything goes perfectly today.
...
Hamburgers flip into the sky and land on their un-cooked sides while jovial whistling fills the morning air, along with the sizzling and popping of the meat on the grill.
"Wake UUUP, Iggyyy! It's time to get up! C'mon, you sleepy head! It's WEDDING DAYYY!" the egotistic blond, America, announces.
Iggy throws a travesseiro out his bedroom window, and it smacks into America's face.
"What do you think you're doing here, you dolt?! Go home! I never asked you to come here and make me breakfast, let alone those greasy patties you call food! And DON'T call me that!"
"Aw, did someone wake up on the wrong side of the bed? I'm here to help you get ready! Your wedding is in less than four hours! Come on! You'll like this food! It's delicious!"
America shovels a freshly-made patty off a cooling rack and takes a hungry bite. "Oooh! Hot! Hot!" he says, fanning his mouth with gusto.
"I SAID get OUT of here!" Iggy groans into his pillow.
Just then, the bedroom door bursts open to a comical sight. Iggy's eyes go white, his mouth gaping with astonishment as he stares at America clad in a white avental and chef's hat, holding a espátula in one hand and a plate of thirty hamburgers in the other.
Balancing the plate, he gallops progressivo, para a frente and places it on the nightstand beside Iggy's bed.
"Try one! Please! Please! Oh, pretty, pretty, pleaaase!" America clasps his hands together and does a little dance.
"I'm not trying one of your grease-filled death traps, you materialistic--" America shoves one in his mouth, and Iggy narrows his eyes, taking a bite and lowering the burger from his mouth.
His expression shifts from speculative to curious and surprised. "My, that's actually not bad."
"What did I tell ya?" America asks, hands on hips. "Well, come on! Get up! Your tuxedo is already ironed and ready to be worn!"
"Give me a bloody moment. I just woke up and had a burger shoved in my mouth." He rubs his eyes, driving the sleep away from his mind. Although he woke up to annoyance in his book, joy and happiness awaits around the corner.
He stands up and opens his wardrobe to find a dark, black tuxedo in order with a red rose already generously placed in the front pocket. He nods determinedly. "Right. I'm ready."
...
Beauty takes time, and all time takes patience; that's the female code when it comes to preparation. The bride's posse gathers around her as she sits in a chair. They eagerly do whatever they can to contribute to Emmy's wedding look.
"Hand me the lip gloss, Alyssa," Janay says, gesticulating impatiently forth with her hand.
"Hold on! I'm not done with her hair just yet."
"Does anyone have a bobby pin?"
"Oooh! I found the blush!"
"Where's the blow dryer? Someone find the blow dryer!"
"I think her nails are still wet."
"Hair spray! Give me hair spray!"
"GIRLS!" Jordan says, stepping into the enormous, lit-up bathroom, one hand on her hip. "We don't have time for this. We need to get her down to the church. Emmy said she wanted a natural look, not a I-just-walked-out-of-Victoria-Secret's look."
"I like everyone's contributions! I appreciate it! But Jordan's right. I was looking for mais of a natural look for my wedding." Emmy shrugs, smiling apologetically.
"Aw, but I wanted to try this new lipstick on her..." Alyssa groans. "All right. Let's get this done."
"I'll finish it from here," Jordan says, grabbing a brush. "You guys helped a lot. Thank you." Quickly and precisely, Jordan grabs each makeup utensil, working diligently with experienced hands and blending and primping the bride into a mais natural appearance. "Go on! Get the ride ready. Tell the chauffeur that we're almost done."
"All right! See you out there, Wifey!" Janay calls, skipping out with Alyssa and the rest.
Jordan takes a step back to evaluate her work like an artist, touching the tip of the make-up brush to her lower lip and closing one eye. Then, she grabs a light lip gloss and hands it to Emmy. "Put this on. It's not flashy, but a natural way to bring out your lips. Guys like glossy lips. When he's about to kiss you, he'll be looking at your lips. Trust me."
"Wow! Thanks!" Emmy takes the lip gloss and carefully applies it.
Jordan smiles. "Excellent! You look fantastic."
Emmy stands up and brushes her long, flowery, white wedding dress out. "Really? You don't think he'll find this is too much?"
"Girl, if he finds that too much, he's a bland piece of oatmeal. You look perfect. You're going to be the prettiest thing in that church today." Jordan simplistically assures, tucking her phone in the hidden pocket of her dress. "All right. Let's get going before that stupid chauffeur charges us mais than he already has for the wait."
...
Garlands of lavender and white flores hang from the ceiling in the pristine, crystal church. The families and friends of the bride and groom sit on either side in the pews, cameras already out to take pictures throughout the duration of the ceremony. The blinding sunlight filters through the elevated windows, giving the church a clean, turquoise aura.
The groom, Arthur Kirkland, decked out in a clean-cut tuxedo awaits the arrival of his bride, Emmy. He looks at his watch and frowns. "Where could she be? It's almost time."
"Be patient, bro-ha!" America says, throwing an arm around Arthur's shoulder. "Don't worry about it. She'll be here."
"Honhon! I can't wait to see what the pretty, white flor looks like in her wedding dress!" France says, holding his hands together lovingly.
Japão smiles. "What a rovery dia for a wedding, huh, Germany?"
Germany folds his arms and shrugs. "Yeah, I guess so."
"I'm looking progressivo, para a frente to the after party!" Italy exclaims. "I made a special dish for the occasion! I hope the bride and groom like it! Haha."
"Let me guess." Germany sighs. "Pasta."
"No, I made lasagna!" Italy corrects, throwing his arms up in the air.
"I think rasagna is pasta, Itary," Japão says. "I know I'm mais of an expert on sushi and sashimi, but I think I am a right."
"Really?" Italy gasps. "I learned something new today, Germany! Haha!"
"Yes, good for you, Italy." Germany sighs, rubbing his temples. "This is going to be a long, long day."
At that moment, Jordan's husband, Death the Kid, espies the bride's limousine pull up to the front of the enormous, crystal church. He clears his throat and turns toward the audience, announcing, "The bride has arrived."
Iggy swirls around and faces America. "How do I look? Tell me!"
"Like a piece of frutas cake!" America holds a thumbs-up and winks.
Iggy tangles his hands in his hair. "That's not good!"
"All right! Like a piece of frutas cake that's already been eaten...by me!" he says, placing a hand on his stomach and closing his eyes.
"And that's supposed to make it better?!"
"Yeah! Why not? Everyone wants to look like a frutas cake that's been in my stomach."
"What's is arr da screaming abourt?" Japão asks.
"America! America is trying to say that I look like a piece of comida that's been in his digestive system!"
"That's not a nice, America."
America takes a scrumptious bite into a frutas cake and shrugs. "MMFF."
Germany clenches his fists. "The bride is coming! Get into your positions!"
Quickly, the best men scramble into position, while the bridesmaids scurry along the sides of the church to take their stance on the other side.
Iggy takes a stand at the altar, but looks around anxiously. "Where's the priest?"
America glances to and fro. "I don't know! The last time I saw him was in the back. I gave him one of my hamburgers, and then he fell over. I guess they were just too delicious for him."
"You half-wit! How are we going to say our vows without a priest?!"
Suddenly, America rises from the ground behind the altar, decked out in a brown robe, veste, roupão and wearing a bald cap. "I shall be your priest, O Tsundere One!"
"What?! No way--"
The música cuts Iggy off.
(Listen with headphones to get the full effect of the music. If you don't have headphones, make sure you can hear the música at a reasonable level. Also, make sure to read at a slow and steady pace. Right click the link and select 'Open link in new tab.')
link
"Looks like you don't have a choice, Britain!" America nudges him. "Don't worry. I gotchya covered."
The audience hold their breath as the beautiful bride steadily walks in, arm entwined with her father's as she steps progressivo, para a frente down the aisle. Her beating coração surges to the rhythm of the music, and she tries to keep herself from tugging her dad along, eager to finally be betrothed to her true love.
The eyes of the audience mover along, watching and waiting, some with misting tears of joy. Her whole life has led up to this moment - this one moment in which she's been waiting for from the segundo Arthur proposed to her. This is the moment she's been dreaming of.
The bride blushes at the sight of him. She can see the warm flush upon his cheeks as he gazes at her, speechless and in awe of her beauty. His coração merges with the rhythm of her own, the song of their beating amor conjoining with the beautiful piano and violin swirling through the clean, morning air.
She quietly draws another breath, knowing that it is one of the last she'll ever take before she becomes Emily Kirkland, wife of Arthur Kirkland.
She remembers what he said to her that night on the beach.
"I was never one for love, but with you it's different," he said. "With you, I feel different. It's like you've changed me into a completely different person. You found something in me that I never knew I had. I just hope that I don't mess it up... I certainly don't want to." She smiled, carefully placing a hand on his, even though he winced at the affection. "Iggy, you are my love. My true love. My first love. Don't be scared of me. I will always amor you. Forever." At that moment, his expression shifted for the first time to pure delight, and he embraced her like he never had before. His tsundere mentality temporarily gone. It wasn't a one-armed, half-meaningful hug. It was a hug that said, 'I amor you. You are mine. Forever.'
Her eyes teared up as she glanced back up at him, seeing her future and everything it holds in the eyes of her lover. He holds his hand out, and her father, already choked up with tears in his eyes, gently grabs his daugher's hand and whispers, "You will always be daddy's little girl." Then, he glances up at Arthur and nods, placing his daughter's hand in Arthur's and takes a step back.
Emmy glances back at her father, recognizing the significance of the transition. The new man of her life is now holding her hand. Arthur smiles and leads her up to the altar. No words need to be spoken. They already know. The time is here. I amor you. I can't wait to finally call you mine forever.
They grasp each other's hands, passionately gazing into each other's eyes, although Arthur is having a hard time fending off his tsundere instincts.
America wipes away a tear from the corner of his eye and sighs. Then, dutifully, he begins, "Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here today to cadastrar-se together this man and this woman in holy matrimony. Into this holy estate these two persons present now come to be joined. If any person can show just cause why they may not be joined together, speak now or forever hold your peace."
Not a soul interrupts, so America continues, turning to Emmy first. "Emily [Insert Last Name Here], do you take Arthur Kirkland to be your loftly wedded husband? Do you promise to love, comfort, honor, and keep him for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health as long as you both shall live?"
She doesn't tear her gaze away from Iggy for a second. "I do," she says confidently.
America turns to Arthur. "Arthur Kirkland, do you take Emily [Insert Name Here] to be your loftly wedded wife? Do you promise to love, comfort, honor, and keep her for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health as long as you both shall live?"
"I do," he says, allowing himself a small smile.
"Then por the power invested in me, I now pronounce you man and wife," America announces with a flourish. "You may kiss the bride!"
And with that, Arthur leans in, grabs Emmy por the waist, gently and carefully tugs her in so their bodies are touching, and kisses her with a passion unlike any other. She wraps her arms around his neck and returns the kiss, while the crowd applauds, whooping and whistling in zealous celebration. Marriage. The joining of two individuals for eternity. Eternal bondage. Such as light and darkness. Life and death. amor and hatred. Sickness and health.
Iggy brushes the hair away from her ear and whispers with a burning amor clearly ringing in his voice, "Welcome to the family...Mrs. Kirkland."
Official Marriage Certificate of Authenticity
Me without my glasses!
