|
Post by Andrua Thomas on Jun 22, 2010 12:17:20 GMT -5
So she was standing in London in what was possibly one of the most gorgeous churches ever, about to get married by an adorable, young priest to Benson Thomas. Holy shit. She wasn't nervous. Just...jittery. Anxious. Excited. Because when you're about to marry the love of your life, there's really only one way to feel. She bounced a little on the balls of her feet before the altar.
The priest gave a small smile to her, aware of her excitement apparently before beginning the procedure. The entire church was empty, between services, and so it was just the two of them getting married. Perfect. Andrua held Benson's hands, looking directly in his eyes, her smile broad. The priest spoke, English accent touching every word (Except it wasn't so pure of English... perhaps Welsh, Andrua thought.).
Repeating the list of vows, Andrua felt something swell within her. Most of the things she was promising were things they had already been through together. And now here they were after all that, together, getting married. And she couldn't wait to start their life together. As a family, as one, on their own.
|
|
|
Post by Benson Thomas on Jun 27, 2010 13:36:02 GMT -5
((We need to put England in the international group of boards!))
"I, Benson."
Were he to die today, he'd be okay with that. Save not getting to spend the rest of the life with the incredible woman beside him, he would not protest to dying. Because he was married to her. In a few seconds, after a few words left his mouth, after a few blinks, a few breaths, he would be a married man. She would be Andrua Thomas. ((When I tell you I almost put Andrua Gerrard, I do not lie.)) This was so much different than he'd imagined. He pictured getting married like scoring a goal: the rush of adrenaline, the running in triumph, dancing in celebration, sliding in victory, cheering in satisfaction, getting pummeled in appreciation and exhilaration. He pictured getting married like making love: slow, soft, sensual, beautiful, like a work of art. Only now did he realize that was all her. He didn't find satisfaction in himself for being able to convince a woman to marry him and be his mate. Instead, he was satisfied because today was all about her. He liked that his eyes could stare at her forever, and he could touch her without retaliation, and there would be no more fighting, and no more questioning and no more uncertainty. They would be conjoined.
"Take you, Andrua."
Then, he had possession. The ball was in his half of the pitch, at his feet, waiting to be toyed with. So he ran with it. The field was wide open, stands empty, but he could hear the crowds roaring. Every touch was perfect, every skill manuevered with ease. His tongue knotted as he approached the eighteen yard box. His mouth ran dry but eyes were wet.
"For my lawful wife, to have and to hold."
There was no keeper, nothing to stand in his way. Nothing to mar the path of the ball, deflect its momentum and send it flying in a different direction. Just pure air. In fact, the wind might have been with him. Cocking his leg, he reeled back in preparation, heart thrumming against his chest.
"I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health."
Sweat dripped down the back of his neck and suddenly players flashed around him. His blood ran cold as he swung his foot down, making sweet, sweet contact with the ball. It curled through the air, spinning, spinning. There was conviction in the pow that sounded to each rafter from foot-to-ball. The net swished, job completed, lights flashing, nobody home.
"I will love and honor you all the days of my life."
Retirement.
|
|
|
Post by Andrua Thomas on Jun 28, 2010 13:40:00 GMT -5
Oh shit, she was crying. Tears were drifting down her eyes and she had to bite her lower lip to keep any kind of sob from escaping her mouth. She didn't want to interrupt this; their wedding. Her breathing hitched something horrible and all she could do was stare him in the eyes, listening as he listed all that he vowed to her. Her heart was swelling and she just couldn't take it any more, she had to be touching him.
Just as he finished his bit, she leapt toward him, curling up against him in a tight but tender embrace. She held there a moment, hearing the priests quiet, fond chuckles, pressing her cheek against his lapel. Oh Gerrard, she fucking loved him so much. ((Like how I replaced "God" with "Gerrard" there? XD)) She pulled from him after a moment, light blush touching her cheeks. She murmured a soft apology to the priest who just shook his head, waving her off. He went on with the ceremony, asking that the rings be presented.
Feeling the cool metal on her finger, locking the engagement ring behind it, Andrua felt something flare up in her chest. "With this ring, I thee wed." And then the tears were falling again. "I now pronounce you man and wife." And then they were kissing and she was holding herself tight against his chest, kissing him. It was surprisingly mild, especially when compared to their kisses of the past. Chaste and soft and sweet, it was full of love and tenderness and the promise of something more to come.
Breaking the kiss, she rested her forehead against his, eyes closed. "I love you, Benson Thomas," she said quietly, lips skipping against his. And this was it. The moment she had been waiting for. She was married to the love of her life.
Bliss.
|
|
|
Post by Benson Thomas on Jun 28, 2010 18:44:25 GMT -5
((Wait...there's a difference?))
He had to admit, it felt weird having something on his finger. But then, he also liked sharing something with her. Only she'd had the engagement ring, as his promise to her to keep her safe, love her, care for her--but now they both had a mutual agreement. A pact, a vow. All he could ask for was her.
Before he could make any moves, before any lucid thought could pass through his brain, he had entangled her in his arms and clutched her closely to his body. Suddenly there was a moment of silence; of relaxation. Everything else in the world sunk into nothingness. He didn't have to think about anything right now if he didn't want to. All he wanted to think about, see, cherish was Andrua.
Smile curling his lips, he replied, "And I love you, Andrua Thomas."
|
|