105th Vhalar 716
George looked over the gathered crowd. His boots were sinking into sand that was covered in tiny ice crystals. The waves lapped gently at his heels and the water was cold. He kept his hands folded in front of him as he surveyed the faces. Kylar, of course he knew from his command as Captain. He recognised the bride from several brief encounters. Everyone had scrubbed up to their best, and hopefully warmest attire. However the persistent tug of wind added an ethereal air to the ceremony. Clothes had a tendency to billow and sway. A wooden ship bobbed against his leg, held in place by the slender piece of string wrapped around his fingers. At least this way it wouldn’t vanish in the tide before the ritual had taken place. He waited until the guests and the happy couple had taken their places. The bride making her glorious entrance. A few Skyriders who had heard of the impending nuptials had taken it upon themselves to bring instruments down to the beach. The sound of pipes and stings humming through the persistent wind and the gentle crash and rolling of waves. At a nod from the Captain, the sound of music faded and he gestured. An airman traipsed over the sand, a torch held carefully in his hand. The young man bowed to the Bride and presented the flame to her before he withdrew. His cheeks turned scarlet with embarrassment.
“Crimson, Kylar,” George cleared his throat. The trick, as with anything, was not to let anyone know that he too was nervous. He stood a little taller in his scale mail, the tiny overlapping plates shining in the fading light. He watched the torch flickering on their young and eager faces, “you will light the ship that sails behind me and in doing so, bid farewell to the past. The burning of the ship symbolises your willingness to enter into your marriage as the start of a new journey.”
