Sibiu

The union of this pair of individuals went on to receive a blessing directly from the priest himself. Though part of the ceremony as normal, somehow it felt oddly necessary to Kasmina who smiled as she heard out these words. Beyond this soon a small child with a pillow holding two rings approached the pair, one of their final acts during this ceremony would apparently leave the pair placing rings upon each others fingers. One of these rings was soon placed upon the ring finger of her left hand, while Sorin gave his speech Kasmina watched him and felt this band slip up onto her finger appreciating its beauty and inscription which she read with sightly widened eyes as she picked up the ring for him.

"Sorin, receive this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit." And with those words she slid the ring onto the ring finger of his left hand as well. Of course, in doing this, she came to realize that she'd spoken this man's name twice over the course of this ceremony but never before. It was strange to think their relationship had been so formal before this point.

True enough, this pair had scarcely referred to one another on a first name basis, even in third person. Either way, there would be much of this to come, as they were now wed under the eyes of their god and all present. All that remained was the Universal Prayer, performed by the priest.

"Let me love you, my Lord and my God,
And see myself as I really am:
A pilgrim in this world,
A Christian called to respect and love
All whose lives I touch,
Those under my authority,
My friends and my enemies."

"Amen," Sorin said at the prayer's completion. Around this time, bells could be heard ringing throughout the church. This had become a signal to the newlyweds, and Sorin gladly took the cue. Pulling his right hand away from Kasmina's left, he moved it to the side of her head, near the back. With his hand placed this way, he leaned toward her face, intending to lock lips with this woman before the entire population of where they lived.

"Amen." A single word spoken at the end of the prayer conducted by the Priest who'd overseen the whole of their wedding. Kasmina was now officially wed to the Count Phantomhive and had with that all the rights and responsibilities that would come with. Even so, it seemed the benefits of this would come to light long before any potential hardships as when she released this man's hand after placing the ring upon it, it soon found itself near the back of her head where she soon found herself kissing the man before her, much to her own surprise. This first kiss occurred in front of the congregation of the church and pretty much the whole of their town, and was quite enjoyable in Kasmina's case.

With his lips pressed against Kasmina's, and his right hand upon the side of her head, Sorin saw to it that his left arm brought her into a tight embrace the likes of which was... almost bloodthirsty. Sorin was experiencing a worse form of bloodlust than he'd ever experienced, even in Kasmina's presence. His pursed lips quivered momentarily against hers, but this moment alone granted him the restraint he needed. He became able to sink into the moment and enjoy it for now.

And enjoy it, he did. Sorin had been on this world for 57 years, and never had he experienced a sensation such as what he knew now. His eyes widened briefly, before narrowing to a close once more. Just prior to the parting of lips, the vampire understood that he had indeed made the proper decision two nights ago.

Kasmina felt the smallest quiver in this man's lips as they pressed against her own. She'd never experienced a kiss before this moment, but in being wrapped up in this almost consuming embrace she realized that even if she had, it would have been nothing like this. She appreciated this moment and got to understand first hand what it was like to be thoroughly invested in such an activity. As their lips finally parted the girl's eyes slowly opened tiniest of blushes creeping up her face, as the murmurs of the crowd alerted her to the fact that they were still in the crowded church being watched by numerous people. The idea of Sorin's blood-lust was lost upon her, if only because physical lust seemed to override it just a bit, her own included. At this moment a minor breathless whisper escaped her, "I had nearly forgotten, we are presently the object of spectacle," she said as if she could feel the eyes of the crowd upon them.

When they separated, Sorin shifted his right hand to his now-wife's cheek. Pulling away did not get him far; he was close enough afterwards that he could feel the woman's breath against his face when she spoke of their observers. Sorin briefly shifted his eyes in the direction of the congregation. His grin spread once more. "What a shame. Perhaps... we should away, that we may part from the gazes of the many. Shall we retreat to our home?" he asked, simultaneously offering his hand to the raven-haired woman. Should she take it, he would escort her down the aisle, and continue on the path toward Castlevania.

When they separated, Sorin hadn't moved very far away from the face of Kasmina. This lack of personal space only furthered her need to leave this place though not entirely for any reason which she could name. Sorin's words after she spoke, lead her to believe that he also found the same in their current placement. Soon after he was offering to abscond with her back to their newly shared dwelling. A smile spread across her face as she simply nodded to the suggestion before reaching for his out-stretched hand without the slightest bit of hesitation. She found her hand sliding rather easily into his own, making her even more sure of her decision. The girl would be led back down the aisle as the onlookers got their final glances at the newly married couple's whose wedding ceremony had taken up a great deal of the day but had been well worth it to witness. After the couple fled all witnesses would disperse as well, after witnessing such a spectacle their day's entertainment quota had been more than filled. Though surely something as great as a wedding in the Great Church would be talked about for a long while to come.

Continue the story here.

The night of the very next day, a local tavern bustled with activity. Talks of the wedding were upon the lips of many patrons. None were struggling for a pint of ale this night, and the hearth burned warm as a summer day. The red-haired Scotsman known by few as Gregor MacLaird sat at the bar with four mugs around him, only one filled. All of the empty pints had been emptied by him alone, and a pouch of coin saw to it that it would keep coming. Even drunk, he seemed very easily capable of managing himself. "Aye, keep 'em comin' lad! Next round's on me for the whole lot 'ere!" he said to the bartender, who went on to begin filling the empty mugs around Gregor. "Your coin's always welcome here, Sir MacLaird. Anyone else while I'm pourin'?"

At the bartender's request, one particular male raised his mug. He sat in a far corner of the tavern, at a table by himself. This man had red-violet hair reaching his shoulders, amber eyes, and strong facial features. He dressed in a long, black jacket with a white and gray trim, matching trousers, a red scarf and a hooded, gray and white mantle. He also wore a black fedora, and a winglike accessory on his left arm. "One over here," he said calmly while the man he addressed worked on filling Gregor's multiple cups.

"I'll have another..." mentioned the man who'd been sitting at the bar. His wails to the bartender as he lamented his current life situation. "She's been turned against me. Since when does she tell me no, why can't she see!? Married and living in a castle changed her..." said the stout dark haired man as he held his cup out to be filled on someone else's dime. "All the things in there, lights that turn on by themselves, no fire against the walls, she could have helped. One word would have helped..." gloom and sorrow seemed to hover over the man known as Costel Dacian. He'd finally lost a bet that would have him left nearly destitute by his own bad decisions. He hadn't attended the wedding of his daughter. "Vile fiend she's married to turned her against me... The nerve of him, and it took less than a day, to make her act so. My Kasmina," he moaned into his arm as he all but cried. He didn't see the wrongness of his actions, he saw only his daughter, with the means to help him not doing such.

"Easy there, Baron. Here; have another." The bartender seemed to have missed the call for a refill by the man in the corner, all due to Baron Dacian's wailing about his apparently lost daughter. Immediately after filling three mugs for Gregor, he moved down the bar to fill Costel's. "Maybe it was a miscommunication. Your daughter is married to the Count now. I'm sure she's just overwhelmed, being a Countess and all." With these words said, the bartender tilted his pouring vessel upwards, having filled Costel's mug nearly to the brim.

"... There's no man who can tame a fiery hen li'ah' with one night of slingin' his pecker," Gregor interjected. A freshly-emptied mug slammed against the bar counter. Then, Gregor slid himself into a stool closer to his fellow Baron and once potential father-in-law. "Look at us. Barons, so close to the end of the wee ropes of life. Your lass, wed to a Count barely older than she, and not payin' any heed to her old da a mere day later. An' what's this about the lights?"

A sigh escaped the drunken male in the corner. It became apparent that he would not be receiving his refill without making a move of his own, as the bartender seemed clearly invested in the conversation that now involved Gregor. This sigh was a mighty one, and was accompanied by this male forcing himself to move from his chair, pushing through all the aches of a long, hard day that he'd yet to put behind him. He was a traveler, from the looks of things. The sound of his voice was also notably of a more western-European influence, though it hardly showed in his initial words. Soon, he was upon the bar with his mug held out toward the bartender. "Pardon, mate, but... can I get that refill? I've been halfway sober for a few minutes now." The bartender looked toward him with a quizzical expression painted upon his face. He seemed less than willing to serve this man, but his coin had been good earlier, and this round was on Gregor, so he filled away. Still, he was very skeptical of this individual who'd come dressed in such a way. "Fine. Here, but I'm having your coin upfront next time," the bartender said. Gregor's attention was briefly drawn to this strange male, and though he was in the midst of a chat with Baron Dacian, he spoke to the newcomer nonetheless. "... That's a funny coat ya' got on there lad." The other male barely paid him any heed. He only sighed once more. "Yeah. I get that a lot."