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a fantastic variety of flowers
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When the party has been going on for a few hours but no one has left yet, everyone is called into the main room. (The dragons will have a sufficient view if they prefer to perch at the outer doors.)

Angela has worked out a ceremony that will satisfy the involved parties, a reworking of standard Samarian traditions with some revised wording and adjustments for the fact that the groom inhabits two bodies. This ceremony, unlike the elven one, doesn't involve any jewelry.

And then Sarion and her beloved are married. Again.
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The moment the ceremony ends, a fantastic variety of flowers in every imaginable shape and colour begin to sprout from the walls.

Aianon grins.
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And his wife kisses him.

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And Pattern, in the audience, leans on Ripper and laughs helplessly.

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Ripper is giggling kind of helplessly himself.

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Aianon kisses Sarion. And maybe smirks. And perhaps lets her know about a certain other space plant in which flowers once bloomed. This one does not share particular relevant features; all of these flowers are keeping their petals.

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So no one will have uncomfortable levels of detail if they happen to abscond right at this moment, then.

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Indeed not! What a wonderful idea.

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She kisses him again. And teleports them away.