The day had been - in a word - perfect. Faustus knew it would be, and had trusted the Bagshots to put together an absolutely beautiful wedding. It had been a tad bigger than Faustus knew both he and Marie had been expecting, but he was content in knowing they would be navigating it together after they left the altar. And something had changed when he was waiting for her at the altar; normally he'd be quite nervous, jittery almost, and thinking of the many times in society where grooms had gotten jilted. In his worst nightmares he'd seen Marie tell him he had always been to old for her, too established, but once he'd actually stood up front with his family by his side, all his worries had absolutely vanished. He knew without a doubt that she would be here, and that everything would go off without a hitch.
And before he knew it, she had been walking towards him. There was no doubt that she had taken his breath away; her hair was done up in the most beautiful way, and with the sun streaming through the windows Faustus swore she could have been an angel. He hadn't been able to stop smiling once she made it next to him, and he longed to reach out and grasp her hand. But he knew there would be time for that later. They would have all the time in the world.
From the alter to where they were now, walking through the halls of the French manor, had gone by in the blink of an eye. He should have been absolutely exhausted, and yet he felt as if he'd drank an entire bottle of Liquid Luck. After greeting their staff and re-acquainting himself with the place and with the butler, Faustus felt he might finally exhale as the oak doors closed behind him with a decided, muffled thud. And then it was blissfully quiet. It was as if up until this point, the noise had been constant, carrying them to this final moment of calm where it was just the two of them.
As he looked around the room, Faustus watched his wife take in their surroundings, taking the time to look at everything in front of her. Watching her, he felt as if he could stay there for days. There was such a gentle, steadfast air about her that he knew whenever she walked into the room, he would already know where she would be without having to glance up from his conversation.
Faustus followed her and stopped short of entering the room when he heard her murmur something in Dutch. If his learning had taught him anything, he thought she'd said something along the lines of how beautiful the grounds were. He frankly couldn't focus on much except for Marie, but he believed her nonetheless. "Yes, you are." He returned with a cheeky grin, hoping that he'd gotten that translation correct.
And before he knew it, she had been walking towards him. There was no doubt that she had taken his breath away; her hair was done up in the most beautiful way, and with the sun streaming through the windows Faustus swore she could have been an angel. He hadn't been able to stop smiling once she made it next to him, and he longed to reach out and grasp her hand. But he knew there would be time for that later. They would have all the time in the world.
From the alter to where they were now, walking through the halls of the French manor, had gone by in the blink of an eye. He should have been absolutely exhausted, and yet he felt as if he'd drank an entire bottle of Liquid Luck. After greeting their staff and re-acquainting himself with the place and with the butler, Faustus felt he might finally exhale as the oak doors closed behind him with a decided, muffled thud. And then it was blissfully quiet. It was as if up until this point, the noise had been constant, carrying them to this final moment of calm where it was just the two of them.
As he looked around the room, Faustus watched his wife take in their surroundings, taking the time to look at everything in front of her. Watching her, he felt as if he could stay there for days. There was such a gentle, steadfast air about her that he knew whenever she walked into the room, he would already know where she would be without having to glance up from his conversation.
Faustus followed her and stopped short of entering the room when he heard her murmur something in Dutch. If his learning had taught him anything, he thought she'd said something along the lines of how beautiful the grounds were. He frankly couldn't focus on much except for Marie, but he believed her nonetheless. "Yes, you are." He returned with a cheeky grin, hoping that he'd gotten that translation correct.