After what seems like an eternity, yet paradoxically not nearly enough time for it to really properly sink in, a week and a half elapses. The day of her wedding arrives, and Yvette runs out of things to nervously micromanage. While the weight of the wedding planning had been firmly on her shoulders, she purposefully made sure the day itself would have as few moving parts as possible, so nothing could go wrong. What parts could go wrong and needed managing were delegated to competent people. This was mostly making sure the photographer - the arguably most frivolous and inarguably most expensive part of this wedding - had time and space to get set up somewhere scenic, and so that the ceremony would end well before the photographer arrived. That, and the more informal reception, but she expected to be able to actually assist with managing that. Not to mention that the reception came after all of the nerve-wracking bits, and was comparatively comforting to think about. It was all tidy lists and making sure everyone had a plate and saying hi to everyone.

Whereas the preparation for the ceremony involves squeezing into a rather clingy white satin dress, and holding still for her bridesmaids to fuss over her makeup, and waiting for everyone else to be in their proper ceremony locations while going over her lines, and then slowly and arduously walking with her father down the aisle to her quickly soon to be husband, without tripping over anything or looking stupid, but also without having anything to do but walk and probably smile. It is, approximately speaking, a whole series of things that didn't lend themselves well to letting off nervous energy, right after the other. There isn’t much to do besides think about things like, 'aaa I'm getting married, but I'm too young to be a Missus,' or 'what if someone cuts themselves on something sharp and James tries to eat them,' or, 'why didn't we just elope like lovestruck idiots, it would have been much faster!!' or any number of other things that kept coming, unbidden, into her mind at a breakneck speed.

  "No second thoughts?" wonders her father dryly, at very nearly the end of this parade of not being able to do things while having kind of a lot of nervous energy to deal with.

Yvette raises her eyebrows. The thought of fleeing and going through that nonsense a second time is about as appealing as sticking her hand on a hot stove. Less so, actually; burns would be easily fixed by turning and therefore take much less effort to mend. The timetable on turning would just be moved up, a bit, that's all. "... Maybe about the heels. I'd have trouble chasing down the judge if he tries to leave without making it official. I suppose that'll be James's job, if it happens," she muses.

  Her father snorts and cracks a smile; the banter's soothing enough to make her almost, almost relax.

Then the waiting is over and it's on to the walking, which is also nerve-wracking, but at least an improvement. She's doing something besides waiting, and every step is taking her closer to...

...the happiest man on Earth, probably, smiling brilliantly at her.

Oh. Yes, that. That's why all the trouble.

She grins brilliantly right back. Then, because she knows he absolutely heard her, she significantly raises her eyebrows and motions with her eyes towards the judge. 'Your job to chase down if he runs, yeah?'

Don't worry, my love, he is not going anywhere, says the groom with his eyes.

Good. They require him.

Soon enough, she's down the aisle and her hand's in James's and eeee they're almost done, they're almost married!!! There's a boring bit where the judge talks about marriage and commitment and whatnot, but she's so glad she went with a judge instead of a priest that might have droned on and on and on. In approximately no time at all they're at the part where they promise things to each other and mean every word.

"I, Yvette Lowell, take you, James Orland, to be my lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish." She gives his hand a little squeeze. "Today, tomorrow, and forevermore." Because neither of them are under the impression that mere death would cut either of them loose.

"I, James Orland, take you, Yvette Lowell, to be my lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish," he mirrors. "Today, tomorrow, and forevermore."

Rings go on assorted fingers; her wedding band tucks neatly next to her engagement ring, and his own matching band goes on the appropriate finger. All the while, Yvette is smiling brilliantly at him from beneath her veil. Eeeeeee they're almost at the part where she gets spirited away to spend eternity with him!!!

  "I now pronounce you husband and wife," says the judge. "You may kiss the bride."

James can instead grab her by the waist and lift her like she weighs nothing at all, twirling her a couple of times before stopping again and dipping her. He somehow makes it all look rehearsed and extremely pretty, but the crowning moment is the kiss, different somehow but still the same, still James and yet like he's never kissed her before, because she's his now, and he will have her forever.

Yvette squeaks, then starts giggling with delight. In retrospect, she really should have expected this. For some reason, she didn't. Maybe it was all of the infuriating waiting and doing nothing. On the other hand, the dipped kiss was much more expected; for that she can drape her arms across his shoulders and pull herself closer and kiss him right back. She gives a little happy hum into his lips.

She is his, and he will!

The informal reception afterwards is significantly more fun than the wedding itself. It is not a particularly large party - even counting the groom and bride, they don't break a dozen guests. They almost certainly offended some of her family with such a short list. Yvette's pretty sure that at least one of her aunts would have been less offended if she'd actually eloped with James, instead of having an actual wedding that she didn't get invited to. Her lack of presence isn't really a loss, and it's not like she's going to have to deal with social fallout. One bright side of dumping one's entire human life to go run off with your pretty vampire husband is that everyone's getting cut off anyway, so social consequences aren't really a major concern. Goodbyes, on the other hand, are. It's no secret that Yvette is leaving; there are lots of hugs, laughter, and even the odd set of tears to make up for her absence in the future. She promises everyone that she'll write, and makes a point of making it the best sendoff she possibly can. The photographer she hired helps with that, a bit; he's expensive either way, and he's already set up, so she's not particularly stingy on who gets to have their pictures taken.

Eventually, they run out of energy and time and food, and the evening comes to a close. It's a pity her memory isn't perfect yet, but James is a fine repository for all of the details. He can refresh her fallible human memories of everything important. All of the repetitions of goodbye and 'I love you' and 'I'll miss you' and 'I wish you all the best' and everything else sincere and heartfelt and yet not quite up to the task of really saying 'Goodbye, probably forever.' The hugs and laughs and tears and promises of letters and pictures and everything else that isn't, quite, the same as being around. Her dad, in particular, is hard to leave. While she's paid a friend to, well, essentially be his minder, he'll still be all alone with his grief, with only written words to keep him company. He gets extra hugs and 'I love you's' and one stern directive to take care of himself. She doesn't, quite, think that last one will be followed. She also doesn't think it's her problem to fix. No matter how much she'd like to.

Then it's time to go, and while she is moved to tears at the loss, she doesn't feel sorry. Even with all of the combined efforts of everyone here that loves and likes her, she's so ready to be away from this town, with its too long work hours and its too cramped living spaces and its grieving fathers and absent brothers and the thousand little papercuts that sliced away at her until she felt like nothing but a blood drained shell. Considering her current life choices, the irony of this phrasing does not escape her. Time to go never bleed again. She will not particularly miss it.

But first, there's the matter of the honeymoon. It's been quite enough waiting, thank you, and James has been insufferably silent about his plans. It's simpler for her to stay human and travel ready for it, and while they have forever together, her husband does only have a short period of time with his wife as human. Best to get all of the indulgence the two of them might like while they can. Her own major reservation to the idea is safety, but apparently James has practice at this sort of thing. According to him, she should be quite safe. It's not like they have to worry about the possibility of children, with the sterility of vampires.

"Do I get to hear anything about where we're going now?" she wonders wryly, as they depart the party.

He eyes her assessingly. "How much do you want to know versus be surprised? Guarantee you'll like it."

"Mmm. Mostly I just want to make sure I don't have to talk to or interact with anyone, do I get to not have to see or talk to or interact with anyone except you for at least a week?"

"Absolutely."

"Okay. Then I suppose the specifics can wait until you get to dramatically reveal them, since you seem set on doing a dramatic reveal."

"It doesn't have to be that dramatic. Oh is that a carriage with white horses and a chauffeur, wherever could it have come from."

Snort. "Not dramatic at all, that."

"I did not say zero dramatic," he replies primly.

"Uh huh. Of course. Well, I'll still let you have your dramatic reveal with maximum drama, anyway, because I love you and want you to have nice things."

"Good when things are symmetrical like that. Up?" he says, offering her hand up into the carriage.

"Up!" she agrees, taking the hand and stepping up.

He follows her into it and soon enough they're off to wherever it is James is taking her.

The inside of the carriage looks extremely expensive. And feels extremely comfortable. One could very easily fall asleep there, with the rhythmic clop-clop of the horse's hooves beating against the ground and the rocking of the cart as effective as a lullaby.

She notes this with a raised eyebrow.

"Okay, is it part of your cunning plan for me to nap now, or no?"

"My cunning plan is indifferent to your napping, but I expect you must be tired after all of..." He gestures vaguely in the direction of the back of the carriage. "That."

Yvette snorts. "Yeah. Not quite sleepy tired, though. But I'll try to nap, since I expect..." her mouth twitches and she smirks. "I will probably not be getting all that much sleep later."