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23 September 2015 @ 12:00 am
Scrap 4  

Chapter Eight

4 Emre 1411
Paris, One World

Koil's paper led with it. A full page picture of Paer on the bench and Ebsa on one knee, dark sepia overlain in huge italics in white "Paer . . . will you marry me?"

And below the fold. "Yes."

Other papers had pictures of them approaching the President. His beaming laugh and hug. And from comm interviews, Ebsa's mother's death threats, "If he doesn't call me before your paper is out on the streets! That Boy! No consideration for his old mother. I was beginning to think poor Paer was going to have to ask him! Yes of course I've met her, sweet girl, and so smart! Goodness, that boy of mine had better make her the happiest woman in the world . . ."

Of course some of the vid channels ran the whole half hour diatribe without cutting it, right down to the ending, "I'm so happy I could cry!" Which she was obviously already doing.

Ebsa heard it on the radio while stirring pudding in her kitchen, Paer perched on a stool beside him, discreet guards grinning or serious, depending on their opinions of Ebsa, prowling about. Eyeing the impressive array of very sharp implements.

Rael, as the local expert, had briefed them all, and was around somewhere. Probably being glared at by her brother-in-law the Chief of Police.

Ebsa waited until his mother had nothing breakable or liquid in her hands. The cleaver . . . well, minimal damage possible if she dropped it. "And of course President Orde wants to meet you."

His mother froze.

"He'll be down in two days."

"Ebsa!" She looked around in horror. "He's coming here?"

"He knows you have a business to run. I told him you don't open until eleven, so he's going to come by in the morning."

"Here? The President?"

"The newsies will take pictures, then the two of you can sit down with some coffee and pastries and chat for a bit. He's a very nice man."

"Here? The President?"

Ebsa got up and took the cleaver from her slack fingers and steered her over to the stool. "Everything will be fine Mom. Orde is very happy about this. He knows we held off so long because of what effect it might have on his next election. He said he was glad we'd waited to be sure of each other, and that if anything the attention would help his election."

Paer snickered. "I said we ought to be really sensible and elope."

"Oh! No, no, no! A young woman like you should have a beautiful wedding! A spectacular wedding!" She glowered at Ebsa. "So don't you get any funny ideas, young man!"

The President agreed. They put their heads together over coffee and pastries and started planning the whole wedding.

In the back ground Paer leaned close to his ear. "If they start planning the honeymoon, the elopement is on."

Two parental glares.

"Humph. Obviously you should honeymoon on Embassy."

An emphatic nod from the president.

"Oh, One. We have created a monster." Ebsa looked out the window. The guards were keeping the Newsies back a hundred meters. "If any of them have voice pickups . . . "

Most of them did. Of course.

Grinning newsies pointed mikes at them whenever they stuck their heads outside.

"Paer! Embassy for the Honeymoon?"

Paer threw her hands in the air. "Really, I had no idea my father would get so . . . enthusiastic about a ceremony! And, and, I'm only twenty-eight, so there's no rush for children."

Ebsa sighed. "Of course our parents seem to have a different opinion about that. But there's no need for the Joy Juice, we're both healthy. All we need is the specific spell that turns off the rejection process. So, no von Neumann's, no aphrodisiacs, and no twin or triplet producing fertility aids and so forth."

"Paer, are you worried about your children, marrying a mere Clostuone?"

Ebsa sighed, loudly. "Shall we be crude, chuck our manners altogether? I'm a two oh one. I have all twelve insertions. A few holes. And I never did have any of the rape genes, so for me, nothing changed."

Paer squeezed his arm, and raised her chin. "And I am now a two ten. And I don't want those genes back, either. I'm a much stronger magician, and medgician than I was before. Possibly just age and practice, but I'd rather give up the numbers than the strength." She hesitated. "I might, before starting a family. Maybe."

A second's stunned silence from the Newsies, then a blast of questions from all directions.

:: This is going to go on for . . . months. ::

She squeezed his arm again. :: Yes, So we've got the worst out of the way. :: She turned her smile on the newsies. "When, well, we haven't set a date, and the Wedding Organizers," She nodded back at the restaurant, "will no doubt have their own ideas about it. One help us."

Ebsa cleared his throat. "Surely we can organize a wedding in a few months. Perhaps the middle of Nicholas, so the primaries will be over, but before the frenzy of the end of the campaigns gets going."

More questions. Ebsa parsed out a general consensus.

"No, I suspect we'll be too busy to do much campaigning . . . speaking of which I suspect our bosses are going to have . . . some comments about timing and remembering that we're working stiffs and so forth."

Alone, Paer eyed him suspiciously. "Mind you, I like that fact that you're politically aware, but may I know why mid-Nicholas?"

Ebsa felt his face heat and controlled an impulse to squirm. "I've been getting a strong feeling that you want children soon."

Her glower softened into wistfulness.

"Well, the wedding will get your dad plenty of news time to start off the hard core campaigning. And perhaps just a week or so before the election, I mean, four months . . . We might just announce a pregnancy."

Her eyes widened, and her mouth opened in a silent "oh!" And curved up into a big grin. "You politician! That's the perfect fit of politics and personal wishes, isn't it? I think a wedding in mid-Nicholas would be excellent."

"Now let's see if we can sell it to the parents."

(Anonymous) on February 19th, 2018 09:42 pm (UTC)
He asked her in 1410 and the news did not get out until 1411 (note the dates at the top of the snippets)? Perhaps the timeline should be revisited?
matapampamuphoff on February 20th, 2018 03:54 am (UTC)
Re: Dates
Oh, I've kicked the whole series timeline around a few times. In this case, the wedding preps run through the first half of the presidential campaign in 1410.

You can't trust a rough draft from 2.5 years ago. That's just a typo.

Edited at 2018-02-20 03:57 am (UTC)