Ziva took a breath, reminded herself, take each task in hand; the next fortnight would be a challenge, the long-awaited vows at the end worth every ounce of stress. She had dreamt of the chapel her parents wed; plans were to knock it down, make room for a gym or burger joint, the irony lost on the builders. The current owners were eager to sell it on; Ziva hoped they would allow for one ceremony, it was either there or Magnolia Blossom Park, and knowing her luck, it would rain. Vicky hinted, teased and tormented Ziva, the dress she brought, green, rainbow, poofy skirt, all descriptions made her cringe. Emilie volunteered, Ziva needed assistance to brave the shops; dress shopping went beyond her understanding, comfy worked best.
Decisions on where to host the party, warily addressed as Rylan offered to host his delicious barbecue. Emilie and her cake testers, Eliza and Charlotte, had the perfect icing for the delicate sponge, the difficult part, finding a topper with either two turtle doves or brides. Vicky agreed a quiet affair suited them. Rylan’s home offered enough space for their guests, a list restricted to their siblings, their partners and children.
Patches looked to offer distraction; health issues were a part of growing old; Ziva wondered if the kitty enjoyed her many trips, the vet had the same impression. Blood tests, pressure, Patches objected to the rectal thermometer; she took a swipe. Treats settled her except for a few growls; Ziva glanced at the medication; this would be a challenge. Vicky suggested they took action, the number of strays frequenting their house, Libby and Abby took their place in line, the cone of shame emphasising the prevention of future kitty pregnancies.
Ziva’s palms were sweating; aside from a few cobwebs, the church looked beautiful; White flowers adorned the arch, guests in their finery. She smoothed the bright pink dress; the silver thread detail made it shimmer in the light. Waiting for Vicky made her anxious, worried she would change her mind. Simon, Vicky’s eldest brother, placed her hand in Ziva’s, a gentle smile at the beauty of the pair, taking his seat. Vicky had chosen a baby-pink gown; white contrast created a sweetheart neckline; Ziva eyes drifted over her future, her breath held. They took the long slow walk, their family looked on with awe, as Vicky and Ziva kept their eyes on each other. Beneath the arch, flushed cheeks, Vicky giggled, shy at the audience as they recited their vows to teary eyes. Their rings signified a commitment to appreciate the time they have together. A promise of love, to support each other through whatever life had in store.
By the Grace of Sim Gods 