On the day of the wedding, the clouds were soft threads drifting along the horizon, like the trace left by a lover's fingertips brushing past one's lips. The wind was a damp veil drifting in from the sea, like the last tender, shimmering glance before turning away on a night of confession.
Even with countless more mornings as clear and cool as this one, there would never again be that sense of peace upon waking in bed and seeing the bright blue sky beyond the window. Weather always took on special meaning because of what people hoped for.
The manor suddenly came alive. Waiters in suits moved through the corridors like schools of fish, the sounds of leather shoes drawing near from afar before gradually fading away. From the window, one could see people already busily setting up the manor square.
Schiller was awakened by a servant. When he opened the door, his pressed clothes had already been placed outside. They were not groomsmen's attire, but an ordinary suit for the welcome banquet.
The groomsmen were to greet the arriving guests in the manor square first. They had arrived on the island several days early, but a small welcome banquet had to be held when they first met the hosts.
The brides and grooms would not appear directly, so the reception work fell to the bridesmaids and groomsmen. When Schiller got dressed and stepped outside, he ran into Natasha, who was wearing a black gown.
"You only got here last night?" he asked, turning to her as they headed downstairs together.
"Yes. Nick dumped S.H.I.E.L.D.'s work on me. I was busy until last night before I had time to come over." Natasha held a black clutch studded with diamonds. As she descended the stairs, she adjusted the necklace around her