Current mood:

giddy

I am a psycho freak - but I actually did it!


Red had been the traditional wedding color for three hundred years. Living in a world that was unendingly white all year round was hard on the eyes - and so they compensated, as best they could, with extragavantly-colored clothing and bright tinted lights and house paint that would have been the laughingstock of Earth, had it been used there. The best colors were the hottest - reds, oranges, bright pinks and neon yellows that glowed with life and spoke of the planet they had left so long ago. And so it was that red was the wedding color.

Buying Alma's wedding dress had been an exciting event. It was made of silk flown in from Earth a hundred years ago and kept by the saleswoman's mother for fifty. The silk was bright, poppy red, and the saleswoman-pinstress had pinned it into loose waves that hung around Alma like a sunset. Alma's cap was yellow chiffon and had been her mother's bridal cap ninety years before. Now it glimmered against her dark hair and glowed on her white face. It was beautiful and she knew it as she spun - twice, three times - in front of the long cracking mirror full of moon-dust.

"I wish you joy," Mallya told Alma as she spun.

"I wish you peace," Dannah said after.

"I wish you comfort." Amryd finished the blessing with a smile, and Alma giggled and swished toward them, swinging her hips to make the silk sway. The saleswoman had done an excellent pinning, almost worth the exorbitant sum she had charged for the silk and the job. The aunts admired it openly and coveted it inwardly. Alma didn't notice either.

"Three long, long years, and it's finally time," she said happily. She kissed each of the aunts in turn and adjusted the yellow cap on her head. "Mallya, Dannah, Amryd, thank you for sending me."

"It is our last gift to your mother, may she have bliss," Amryd told her as she set a golden sunstone broach in Alma's hair.

"Well, it's great of you to do it," Alma said, and giggled again. "Didn't she do a good job of the sleeves?" She rotated slowly on the ball of her right foot to display the ballooning sleeves best. "She used sunstone pins, too. You can see them glitter." She ended her turn in a skip and spun back to the mirror. "Are they ready yet?"

"You've waited three years, you can wait five more minutes," Dannah chided.

"Three years for forty sheep," Alma retorted. She pulled at her side-sash to even it and grinned at her reflection. "I don't even know what Dapa will do with sheep."

"It's tradition." Dannah pulled Alma away from the mirror and starting painting Alma's face, scarlet and blue for union, gold and purple for health, and orange for continuing love. "It's always sheep."

"They die within two days," Alma said, and hummed a few bars of the home song at the pace of a death-night procession. "The house smelled of dead sheep for weeks after Nenna left."

"And your father made himself a rich man on the profits he made selling the meat," Dannah reminded her. "He'll do the same with you. Why do you think we say daughters are such a blessing, Alma? Dowries bring wealth. Keep your mouth shut so I can do your lips."

"It would make a lot more sense if dowries weren't sheep." Alma puckered her drying lips and raised her scarlet-painted brows when Dannah handed her a hand-glass, laughing at the way the facepaint elongated and warped. "Three years is a long time to wait for any bride."

"Takes a long time to get forty sheep here from Earth," Mallya broke in. "Here. Take the stones." She dropped the wedding stones into the pocket that hung from Alma's side-sash.

"Ready," Amryd said, peeking through the door hanging. Alma gave a final swishing whirl and flew out the door, giggling and light-footed.

Durmond was waiting for her in the chalky red circle, a wedding stone in each palm, Dapa standing nearby. Alma danced to them gleefully, the bride's-red wedding stones in her side-sash clinking almost in time with the marriage song the aunts were singing. When she had reached the circle Dapa she held her left hand to Dapa and her right to Durmond, as they had practiced, taking one of the groom's-gold wedding stones from Durmond as she did so.

Alma grinned at Durmond from beneath the veil of the wedding cap as Dapa recited the marriage prayer in the ancient language. She grinned at him as Dapa released her hand and Durmond took a red stone from her side-sash, and grinned at him still as Dapa stepped out of the circle and Durmond whirled her through the union dance. It was over before she realized, and Durmond was kissing her, his painted lips pressed against hers, and the villagers watching were cheering heartily and the aunts were throwing her maiden-clothes into the ceremonial fire.

And, somewhere in the distance, a sheep bleated solefully.