He watched them, in the darkness of the night. As he did not wish to be seen, he wasn't; and he clearly enjoyed this fact. In his eyes there were tears, actual tears. Though he was no stranger to these wonders of the human body, he hadn't shed them since he last visited his antagonistic friend. He hoped no one would come out onto the portico before he finished this task he felt compelled to do. It wouldn't do to be caught, no, it definitely would not do.
Sighing, he replaced his well-known "face" with a more suitable, human mask. He now looked like any other of the wedding guests. He smiled, and his visage smiled also. No one will know that I still walk this Earth, he thinks to himself. Opening the French doors leading from the garden to the reception, he enters and surveys the area. His eyes are dark amber, almost black, and has an aura of power and grace that seems to seep from his very core.
He approaches the table that is already laden with many presents and places his, a small, rather plain package so very unlike the large and gaudy like those already there. He turns, and without having said a single word the whole time, he leaves.
No one really noticed the mysterious figure that most were not certain whether he was invited or not, or even who he was. But despite all this, the matter was considered quite trivial, and quickly forgotten.