Beetlejuice is not mine. Even this version of Beetlejuice. Some would argue that this version of Beetlejuice is more mine, but hell if I'm gonna go into court arguing trivialities where copyright's concerned... So no, Beetlejuice, Lydia, the Neitherworld, not mine. Besides, I respect Tim Burton too much for that... Um, blatantly non-canon story nonwithstanding.
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Okay, I wanted to do a big thing for this, tell everyone to write their own version of what they thought the wedding would be, leave it sit a month, then put it up on Valentines's Day... But do I have that kind of patience? Hell no! Please enjoy the brief deviation from my current story, with what I hope is a worthy heir to the Only to Her saga. I hope. I hope. I hopeIhopeIhope...
Um anyway, I guess you can still put up your version of how the wedding might have gone, if they still want to... Originality, right people?
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The formerly empty hall was now packed more or less to the brim, with every size and disfigured shape of neitherworld cast-off's he could find… The more utterly bizarre their manner of death, the better. He knew Lyds would get a kick out of them.
He was dragging his current object of interest, bound head to feet in something not that different from mummy wrapping- only all the poltergeist's own doing- and completely unable to offer so much as a squeak of objection, wriggling helplessly as Beetlejuice pulled him by the noose around his swollen neck.
Beetlejuice hummed under his breath, a cheerful little tune as he finally reached the last empty spot in the last available pew, and with a massive swing of one arm, hefted the hapless ghost from his place on the floor behind him, to a spot, rather solidly, against the hard wooden bench. Still humming, as he took the loose bits of rope from the ghoul next to his current victim, and resumed threading him into the greater mass of a whole… Every dead guy and broad tied up there tightly, one to the next.
Unable to get quite the desired tightness, the poltergeist lifted one gleaming white boot, place it firmly against the 'mummy's' chest, and shoved hard with his heel, satisfied as several ribs and soft organs gave way with a stifled little scream, as he finished his self-assigned task with a big, pretty bow of white rope.
"There ya go, babes…" He muttered under his breath, though the fiancée in question was, actually, not there at the moment. "That oughta do it just fine…"
Moving calmly away from his captive audience, Beetlejuice made his way to the front of the church, or what passed for such a thing in the neitherworld, and turned lightly on his heel, taking in the full view of his night's work. Damn if they weren't gonna do this right… And for the real thing, they needed witnesses.
He pulled a small, grubby notepad out of his pocket, complete with a grease pencil, and licked his top lip, going over his self assigned list. "Okay, dismal little chapel… Check. Buncha dead witnesses… Check. Decorations?" His gaze flicked up, briefly, to the macabre display of dead roses and lilies, tied to slender bone with faded lace, in twisted facsimiles of things she liked. Mostly bats. Damn kid liked bats.
Beetlejuice chuckled under his breath, hoping the kid wouldn't look too closely at those… Hell, it was his wedding too, right? "Chea-eck." He finished, with some satisfaction. "Okay, so we got the grub, and then… Ah, yeah. Gotta have a preacher."
"That's where you come in!" He spun on his heel again, taking note of the guy behind him, the only one in the building, beside himself, who wasn't currently tied up. He was a pale, squat sort of man, with twisted limbs, bulging with sinew and little else, and elongated bones, making him look almost comical as he twisted his hands in distress, eyes wide and overwhelmed as he remained too terrified to flee.
Beetlejuice threw one arm around the guy's shoulder, cleared his throat, and considered the room again with a sense of satisfaction. "So what'd'ya think? You think she'll like it? Be honest with me now." The man beside him made a sort of helpless gurgling, deep in his throat, and the poltergeist turned, looking mildly surprised, before he seemed to 'remember.' "Tongue tied?" He mused, nothing at all helpfully. "Well hell, we'll have to fix that before Lyds shows up…"
"Now," His voice dropped, pointedly, bringing his words to where they were just between the two of them, "Let's get this straight right off the bat… You're gonna marry me and Lyds, right? 'Cause hell, if you don't, I'm gonna have to go off and find another preacher… Might take me, shit, two, three hours, what with killing you first and all… And to be perfectly honest, I'd like the chance to go home, watch my sleeping bride-to-be a few hours, reflect on all that shit you think about before the big day… You know?"
Still the other ghost could only gurgle helplessly. Beetlejuice began to look a little exasperated. "Well fuck man, nod your head if you goddamn understand! You don't need a tongue for that!" The pale man blinked, and hesitantly, nodded, making the poltergeist's face split with a grin. "Good! Good man…"
Beetlejuice patted him good-naturedly on the shoulder, before he gave him sort of a careless toss to the side, straightened his cuff-links, and squinted towards the window of the ancient church of the ancient dead, trying to gauge how much time he had left before Lydia woke up. "Lessee now… Dress… Tux… Ring. Rings. Hell, I forgot to get another ring!" He wiped his hand slowly down his face, shaking his head with a grimace.… "Goddamn it, no wonder broads are always crazy the day of their wedding, way too much shit to do…"
Turning, he gave the preacher, who'd yet to move from his spot, a pointed little look. "And you're not gonna do nuthin to make me look bad in front of my bride, right? Just so we're clear, here…" The man stared at him, just slightly more wide-eyed than before, clearly not certain if this wording required a shake of his head, or a nod. Beetlejuice groaned under his breath. Goddamn English Lit types.
"Yeah," He muttered, giving that part of it at least, up as a done deal, "You stick with that answer, buddy." He patted him absently on the shoulder again as he moved past again, not taking notice as the ghoul shrank away in clear terror at even this light contact, and turned over in his head where he was going to find someone who could jeweler up a special made ring at this hour. Maybe a fancy 'L' on it… Who was it had done Lyds's ring for him?
He waved back over his shoulder, absently, more or less in a good mood, and humming under his breath again as he walked away, leaving the entire congregation as he'd arranged them, in the dark. He only paused, briefly, as he reached the small, ornate door, suddenly trying to place the tune that'd been playing through his head for the past few hours…
And laughing, shortly, as he figured it out. Goddamn wedding march… He had this stuff on the brain, didn't he? Switching to a whistle, he continued down the sweet strains of the welcome tune, and swung the door shut behind him, not really worried that the preacher would try going anywhere.
Nothing was going to ruin his fucking wedding day…
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The room had remained still for the better part of the night. The odd gurgle, moan, or sound of shifting, was pretty much it, as those in the pews tried vainly to make themselves more comfortable, and wait out the night. The sound of quiet whimpers, as the preacher found himself a nice corner to sit and rock in, shadows more or less obscuring his twisted features. All too aware what would happen to him if he tried to leave.
It was still some two hours short of dawn when a small, metallic click, as of a lock being thrown, echoed through the otherwise mostly silent hall, making him both lift his head, and cringe back in fear. Beetlejuice shouldn't be back yet. He shouldn't. And if it was the cops, and they let everyone go, the poltergeist would blame him. This all made sense in his mind, but the extent of his reaction was to shrink back further into the wall, lower his head in an effort to go unseen, and whimper.
No sound of steps, utter silence. Glimpses of movement, across the floor. Down the long aisle. Flowing shadow. The slight wisp, at last, of heavy fabric being drawn across solid stone.
Then he stood there, obscured completely by the simple black robes he wore. Hands draped, face shadowed, long limbs completely encompassed. Giving the indication, nonetheless, that he was watching the man cowering on the stone before him.
When the ghoul finally looked up, his reaction was instantaneous, he leapt back from the hooded figure, as well as he was able, and proceeded, all logic to the contrary, to try to claw his way through the heavy stone wall behind him. Gurgling screams in his throat, panicking, and not for one instant questioning why the figure he faced now, terrified him a thousand times worse than even Beetlejuice had.
The robed creature waited, patiently, until the man stopped trying to get away. Until he curled into a ball on the floor, trying to protect his face behind long, trembling hands, and doing his utmost best simply not to look.
Then he spoke. Whispering, through the mind of the man on the ground before him. Don't be afraid. I'm here to help you. He hadn't offered the words before, well aware they wouldn't be heeded in the man's terrified state, but now, perhaps, he would listen. Do you want help? Slowly, not looking up, the man nodded. Still trying to hide in plain sight from him. Then, here. A flick of his hand, and an odd, faded card, yellowed with age, grasped between two slender stone fingers. Take it. A get-out-of-the-neitherworld free card. Where it takes you, Beetlejuice will be unable to follow.
Slowly, the man lowered his hands, and took in the sight of the figure before him. Not really that terrifying, if he really looked at him. Just a man in a cloak. Simple cloth. With no clear indication given why, at first sight, he'd been so terrified of the creature. In fact, yes, now he remembered who he was supposed to fear… Beetlejuice. He'd be back soon. Very soon. And when he had no more use for-
The figure in black could see the man weighing his options, deciding if he dared risk throwing off his first instinct of terror, for the chance to… escape. A get-out-of-the-neitherworld free card? He could almost hear the words move across the man's mind. Out of the neitherworld, and then… what? The possibility that something existed beyond it?
A little, strangled sound of hope escaped the ghoul's chest, as he rose to his hands and knees, staring, transfixed, at the simple, faded bit of stiff paper, its image lost to time… As a way out. He'd never expected the neitherworld to become the hell it had, when he'd first come here. The tedium, the eternity, the unending threats of fear and pain… No respite, or promise of heaven, or rest of the grave, or any of the things he'd been promised when he was alive.
So… A way out? With eager fingers, trembling, he reached towards the sliver of salvation that the man in black robes offered, shying, just short of the simple piece of paper, a… A ticket, to something more… Hesitant, before he grasped it, firmly…
A plume of acrid smoke, and the falling of burnt bones, and oily ash. There was only one way out of the Neitherworld, after all. That was the whole point.
The way some hold so desperately to their spent mortality… The figure reflected, almost regretfully, as he bent over to lift the card back from the smoldering debris… A single tarot card. The preacher wouldn't miss it now, and he only had the one. Rest in peace, Anthius. Your time was long since come.
This settled, he turned back to those seated obliviously behind him, somehow having managed to miss this entire exchange, too caught up in their own worries to notice one more addition to the party. He took in the sight of them with a long, steady gaze, then turned back away, resigned to the fact that, for these ones, he could do nothing. He was already overstepping the bounds of his authority. But for this… Well, for this, repercussions could be risked.
The poltergeist was getting married, after all… The chance for this sort of binding offered itself only once or twice an eternity…
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Lydia felt his arms around her, and stretched slowly, knowing before she opened her eyes that he would already be awake, watching her sleep. He'd been doing that more and more lately, like a man with something on his mind. A thought he was working to niggle from its crevice in his twisted brain, and offer her… eventually.
She wasn't expecting his rather smug look of satisfaction as she turned over though, her greeting him with a sleepy smile, and wondering what the hell the poltergeist had been up to now. She had to sleep sometime… "Mm, good morning." She touched the corner of his grin with light, tracing fingers, and took in his pleased expression at some, unhurried length. "You look happy….?" It was, yes, a bit of a question. A sort of, what was she in for now, sort of deal.
"Get up, babes!" He clapped her good-naturedly around the back, half dragging her from the bed in his eagerness, before she herself was really all the way awake. "We got a wedding to get to!"
"A wedding?" Lydia stretched, slowly, against him, and wondered where her red shift had gotten to this time, as she looked about vainly for the slip of red silk. "Whose wedding?" And why did Beetlejuice care? Unless he was planning to cause trouble… Still, if he wanted her to be there too, he couldn't be planning anything too terrible. He'd been very careful to protect her from that part of his afterlife, since getting his memory back.
Beetlejuice snorted, and looked exasperated. "Whose wedding, she says…" He muttered under his breath, pulling her poncho down from its place on her bedpost instead, and tugging it down gently over her head. "Who the fuck's wedding do you think I'd actually give a damn about, babes? Our goddamn wedding!"
She cast a short, surprised glance at him, momentarily caught off guard by the news that they'd be getting married today, which was again, news to her, but then offered a small, wry smile, figuring this was after all, the way Beetlejuice was most likely to do this.
"I thought it'd been a while since you brought up the idea of us getting married." She acknowledged, just a trace ruefully. "You're not a patient man, are you?"
"Hell no!" He was looking for something, now, patting his pockets when it didn't immediately reveal itself on any of the surrounding surfaces, and giving a grunt of satisfaction when, apparently, he found it. "Okay, got all the details worked out babes, just need you there, and we can seal this little deal! Sound good?"
"Sounds wonderful." She murmured honestly, feeling one, brief regret, that there would be no friends or family at this wedding- for all she'd ever had them- just her and her groom. "Say, B, you given any thought to where we're going to spend our honeymoon?"
Beetlejuice gave her a short, amused look. "Hell babes, I gotta do everything in this marriage?" A dismissive wave of his hand. "You think of someplace! I don't give a fuck!"
Lydia laughed, lightly, quite sure he did in fact give a fuck, but was trying as usual, to come off as a hard ass. "Okay," She agreed, latching onto his arm, and tucking her face gently into the groove of his shoulder, "Venice it is."
The poltergeist arched one brow. "The living world?" He grunted, now unable to feign disinterest. "Hell, all right, you wanna cause some trouble…"
"If necessary." She agreed, more or less amiably, before giving a little yelp, and wriggling out of his embrace. "Percy!" Beetlejuice snickered as she dashed away into another room, clad only in her feather-light poncho still, hurrying to get the damn cat's breakfast.
Following her languidly into the kitchen, he gave the cat a slightly less good-natured glare as it gazed at him balefully from atop the fridge, its wide, unfaltering eyes among the few that dared meet his directly. The cat yawned, showing its pearly, elongated teeth, and deliberately turned its ass to him, flicking its back paw in distaste towards him, even as it greeted its mistress with a low yowl.
Giggling, Lydia scooped the, now much larger, kitten into her arms- fully grown now really, and a kitten no longer- and buried her face into its short, coarse fur. The gray beast rumbled, like it was angry, but proceeded to hook its claws a little too firmly into what little clothes she wore, and begin grooming her soft skin with its raspy tongue, purring under its dirty little threats… All intended for the poltergeist, of course, as he spared brief little looks towards the unwelcome sharer of Lydia's affection.
Competing with a damn cat… Beetlejuice mused, brushing past both without so much as a glance, and pulling a carton of aged cream out of the fridge, sucking down the last of it as the greedy thing watched. Petty vengeances, but he couldn't skin the damn thing without upsetting Lyds… Well, anymore. What the hell he'd been thinking… Though there really never was any telling, when Lyds was involved, was there?
"Did that mean old poltergeist drink your breakfast?" Lydia cooed, casting Beetlejuice a flirtatious glance as he wiped his mouth off with a scowl, before pulling open a half-broken cupboard. "Don't worry, Percy… I have a whole new can of that really rich stuff you love, that I've been saving for you right here." Cradling him in one arm, she fished around amongst a couple dozen jars with old neitherworld grotesqueries that had gotten jammed in there over the years, and pulled out a bright blue can with a raspberry throwing demon on the label, all in yellow. "Dragon's milk for my little hell-kitty…"
Beetlejuice groaned, inwardly. That shit cost an arm and a leg! Well, roughly. Maybe a couple fingers too, in his line of work. But he gave her that cash so she could blow it on herself when he was busy, not so she could pamper the damn cat! "Lyds…"
"I know." She agreed quietly, giving him a gentle, sweet look, that somehow stole away all his arguments before they began. A sort of, she knew she wasn't supposed to, but he couldn't get mad at her over a can of cream, right?
Grumbling under his breath, he tried to ignore the whole process of breakfast-giving to the little gray snot-rag, and fished something dead out of the fridge to chew on, on his way to the chapel. "Hurry up and get something to eat, babes…" He warned her, his good mood only slightly soured since, hell, they were getting married today after all, "Gotta be there real soon, 'fore the cops cut everyone loose."
Lydia lifted one, curious eyebrow at this, but didn't argue, fishing through a second cupboard to find a rather plain brown box, with a glued on picture of puffy, bright-colored chunks of something sugary. "All right, I'll just eat this on the way…" She agreed, scooping out a handful of the sticky, crunchy things, and eating them from her fist, one at a time, while she seemed to wait for… something, expectantly.
Finally she paused, one bright blue puff halfway to her lips, and prompted, with half a smile, "Am I going to be wearing this?" Well aware that if she did, Beetlejuice would probably kill everyone in the whole damn place, long before any sort of ceremony started.
"Smartass." He flicked his hand at her absently, dropping bits of what might be gristle from said hand, as it still held his undefined breakfast firmly in its grasp, and she was swept, in an instant, in red lace, pouring and folded and accented with black, with veils and satin and what appeared to be some kind of silver-tinted leather as a tight little cinch around her waist.
Blinking, for a moment without any decent response to the appearance of something, after all, so to her own taste, she stared at it with wide, dark eyes, while she finished off her handful of cereal, before smoothing her fingertips slowly down its surface. "B…" Barely a breath, "It's beautiful…"
"What the fuck did you expect?" He grumbled, looking considerably more pleased. Good, she loved it… Hell, he knew she would! His babes, right?
At his words, she was caught off guard again, finally taking in what he himself was now wearing… A gray, thick, pinstriped tuxedo, all done up with cummerbund and everything, sporting a black and white striped bowtie, and shiny white boots, all not only brand new, but somehow, incredibly, clean. Beetlejuice however, was his usual grimy, moldy self, but then again, two miracles in one day was asking for a bit much. Even for a wedding. "Cool." She said simply, fighting the instinct to straighten the crooked bowtie.
"All righty!" He bared his teeth at her with a good-tempered grin, rubbing his hands together. "Let's get hitched!"
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Everything was exactly as he'd left it, he was satisfied to see as they pushed open the small, ornate door to the chapel, offering the first glimpse of real daylight to those trapped within. "Check, check, and check…" He hissed under his breath, taking in the decorations, the witnesses, the… Wait. What? A frown traced his lips, irritably, as his last check seemed premature. …The hell was the damn preacher?
Getting ready to be really and truly annoyed, a brush of movement caught his gaze before he could go hunt down the errant 'holy' man, and he paused, squinting towards the altar. To his surprise, it looked to all appearances, as if someone else had decided to take the absent dead man's place. "Stay here, babes," Beetlejuice muttered under his breath, suddenly wary, and wondering if the whole deal had fallen apart that quickly, and they were now sitting smack dab in the middle of some kind of half-assed trap.
The man in black didn't seem to notice his approach, tapping a small flat dustpan against a heavy woolen sack, and appearing, for the moment, like he honestly couldn't care less… Until he turned a moment later, the poltergeist now close enough to do someone serious damage, and greeted him with a slow, somber nod. I'm afraid your arranged speaker won't be able to attend, He murmured smoothly, as if not the least bit afraid of the deranged dead man now plotting the different ways he could kill him… Again.
See? He tipped the mouth of the bag forward, and a rank, bitter smell rolled out, even as enough light peeked in through the opening to reveal what were, undoubtedly, some poor idiot's burnt up remains. Beetlejuice grabbed the sack, scowled, and cursed under his breath, reaching in to run his fingers through the wet, clinging ashes.
"Well hell," He muttered, swiping said hand absently across his forehead as he pushed the sack away again, and leaving a smear of the deceased deceased's soot across his pale skin. "What the fuck am I supposed to do now?" This couldn't have happened when he still had time to go track some sorry s.o.b. down, no… "Hey, hold on." A thought occurred to him, and he gave the robe-wearer a short look. "What the hell are you doing here, anyway?"
As he could not preside over the scheduled duties this morning, I am here to take his place.
The ghost explained in a calm, unhurried manner, for now focusing all his attention on the poltergeist, and none on the girl at the far enough of the church, casting not so much as a glance around at the hostages, initially… Though after a moment's thought, she pulled her camera to her from goodness only knew where, gazing through the lens at the various bound and gagged dead, maybe to add to her wedding album. No sense wasting a perfectly good chance for disturbing photos after all…
You are Betel Geist, aren't you? The man went on, as Beetlejuice's interest lingered over the girl, utterly ignoring the two of them. Seemed she liked her first wedding present… Still he was talking. Why? Your wedding is the first item in my schedule.
Beetlejuice gave him a short, bemused glance at the unfamiliar name, started to answer, then paused as his bride-to-be started humming behind him, a tune uncannily similar to the one that had been playing through his mind the night before, before falling it into words, as she turned her attention from the guests to the decorations. "Here comes the bride, dark, dead, a fright… Here comes the groom… something, something, broom…"
"Huh." Beetlejuice watched her for a minute, well aware she was trying not to see how many things would, to most people, probably seem wrong with the current situation. The fact that she was now photographing skeletal bats, rather than the guests he'd chosen for her so carefully, was enough to prove that to even the thick-headed poltergeist. Making sure she wasn't upset over anything real important, he turned back to the man in black absently, not sure what he'd just been about to argue about.
"Um… Whatever. One robe-wearer's as good as another, right? Just make sure you… Lyds! Look the hell out!" Grumbling under his breath, he turned his back on the intruder, and, bodily, dragged Lydia away from the one of the dead, trying to snag at her, in some hopeless bid at taking a hostage. "Can't take my eyes off you for a goddamn second…" He muttered, with an undercurrent of gruff affection. "It's like you just ain't taking this wedding shit seriously…"
Lydia made a small sound of disagreement, tucking her slight frame into his arm nonetheless, looking not the least bit concerned over her 'near miss…' She could take care of herself, after all…
Then she paused as she took in the ghost in front of them, the center of her eyebrows puckering a little as she stared. She couldn't put her finger on just when, but she swore to herself that she'd seen this guy somewhere before. Funny… The people she knew in the neitherworld were more or less limited, after all.
The ghost, for his part, returned her gaze, without a word, before seeming satisfied by, something, and turning back to Beetlejuice. If you're concerned about my authority, then I assure you, the marriage will be legally binding. Not that I suppose that really makes much of a difference to a creature such as yourself...
Beetlejuice just nodded absently, frowning. Not really caring what the guy said anymore. He had not missed the exchange between them, however brief, nor did he miss now the way Lydia continued to stare at him, like she was trying to figure out something, and she wasn't sure what. But it sure as hell had her interest, more than he did. Today of all days, he was not putting up with some hoodie wearing shit-head stealing his thunder.
"Whatever, hell, yeah sure." He straightened his bowtie between the thumb and forefinger of his spare hand, shot their new preacher his a long, measured glance, sure there were even more reasons not to like the guy… And in the end, not caring, and grinned, weighing it, and figuring that as far as things went, this could have gone much worse. They still had a preacher, right? And when the day was over, hell, they'd be married, and this guy? This guy would probably be dead.
"Ready, babes?" He murmured, lifting his head a little, to brush the crown of her soft black mop under his lips, breathing her in for one sweet moment, before laughing shortly, and giving her a little push. "All right, let's do this right! End of the aisle, music starts, you start walking!"
"No bouquet?" Lydia murmured, batting her eyes at him slyly, before, before he could do a damn thing, using her own small grasp of power to pull a tiny batch of black violets out of seemingly nowhere. Of course, it was all illusion, she couldn't magic up the real thing without knowing what it was and where it was, and all sorts of possession of ownership shit, but it was pretty impressive, the girl not even yet being a year dead.
So Beetlejuice grinned, let her make due with her fake flowers, and surreptitiously stashed the big bunch of red roses and baby's breath he'd snuck in from the real world. "Suits you real good, Lyds." He assured her earnestly, before turning his back on her, and with a little shooing motion of his hands at his sides, urging her to stick to the 'plan.' "Go on, hurry up, let's do this!"
Lydia obligingly moved to the far end of the aisle from her husband to be, smiling affectionately as she watched him wave his hand, and with an unnecessary flourish, start up the big echoing pipe organ to one side. She grimaced a little, at some of the notes he hit… He could do pretty much anything he wanted to do with his magic, but that didn't mean he knew the first thing about music. And well, he was pretty much playing by tone deaf ear.
She waited for him to turn, grinning big as a cat that's just gotten in the catnip, and now, urged her back down the aisle, to join him. Rolling her eyes, giggling, she decided to make it a drawn out affair, taking smooth, sweeping steps to the side, then the other side, then doing a semi-pulled off pirouette, before turning back to him with a little, guilty smile.
Admittedly, she didn't know why she liked teasing him… But well, maybe she just wanted to remind herself, at every available turn, that he was hers again. For so long, she'd only thought of herself as his, never once considering that it should be the other way around too… But that was then. And this? This was now, wasn't it?
Her eyes softened though, as she began walking down the aisle for real this time, and saw the long familiar dead man waiting for her. She knew every inch of him now. The shape of every patch of green, the curve of every muscle… The curve of that gut- she loved that gut- And knew that crooked smile of his by heart. He waggled his eyebrows at her when she was halfway down the aisle, rocking on his toes a little, and she wanted to giggle, his hands shoved in pockets he shouldn't have…
He looked incredibly happy. And it was stupid, it was stupid, but when she realized how much this day meant to him, and not just to her, her throat started feeling thick, and her eyes sort of welled up a little. Damn it. Everything had changed. She was grown. She was dead. She was marrying the guy who'd for so long been just her best friend. No more. And yet it still kind of felt like those first few nights, when she'd followed him so eagerly into the dark, wondering what would happen next.
"B…" The gentle endearment fell from her lips like a prayer as she finally reached him, tears overflowing her cheeks now, and a weird, awkward little smile on her face. He straightened up a little, looking pleased as punch, even as he reached out with mild reprimands about how 'it was her goddamn wedding,' and 'shouldn't she be happy,' even as he wiped the salty wetness away with his thumb.
Funny thing. She wasn't sure she'd ever seen him grin so big, but damn if it didn't sound like he was having trouble talking too…
He touched her chin gently with his thumb, tracing invisible lines across her cheek… Still looking, for all the world, like he was hell-bent on causing some sort of trouble in the next few minutes, since that was his usual look. Instead though, he just cleared his throat, wiped his free hand across his lips, and blinked a few times, before chuckling, and turning back to the robed man, a bit like he wasn't even aware he was there, as he spoke to him.
"Okay, great. Let's do this." He hooked his arm through hers, and at the touch of his cold fingertips at a bare place on her arm, she felt a rush of warmth, and stood there, slightly dizzy, blushing, as it finally started sinking in that they were getting married. She twisted her ring nervously with her thumb, and looked up at the 'preacher,' smiling bright as life. Married. To the ghost with the most. Cool.
Dearly thee among the dead, the stranger murmured, inexorably drawing Lydia's gaze back to him, even from Beetlejuice, Those who have chosen neither the path to heaven, nor the road to hell, gather before us this dawn. This voice, soft, intoning, familiar, again. Hear the vows of these fallen, to bind unto each other, in love, and unlife, and unending, within this Neitherworld they claim as their home.
Betel Geist, murderer, monster, a shadow of your former self, and as formidable as ever before, do you really offer to tie your unending existence to this dead mortal girl? To have and to hold, in this world, and in this time, in all adversity, against all odds?
A pause here, pointed, as the man before them let his unsaid next words gain significance, before softly, Forever and ever, said Death, lest ye part?
Beetlejuice was frowning, warned by whatever second sense he had of such things that there was something odd that had just happened, but pretty sure he didn't know what it was. "Yeah, sure, whatever." He agreed, giving the other man a long, studying gaze. "I do. What the fuck of it?"
She felt a chill of warning down her spine, but what could she do? Tell B that something was wrong, when he already knew it? That she saw in the slender black bones of his fingers, heard in the velvet echo of his voice, the memory in this man of someone she hadn't thought about since… Funny, she couldn't remember how long. Funny…
Lydia… Innocent, corrupted, pawn, and queen… Do you really offer to tie your eternity to this twisted soul of a man? To have and to hold, in this world, and in this time, in all adversity, against all odds? Forever and ever, lest ye part?
Her mouth was dry, and for a moment, she swore she met his gaze beneath that shadowed hood, and her words were stolen away… But then she felt a gentle squeeze on her arm, and turned in surprise to see Beetlejuice, a bit surprised that he was still there. This was a binding, didn't he understand that? No, no, even she didn't understand it, and um…
She couldn't say no. Not when they'd come this far. Come hell or high water… Yes. She wanted to be with him forever. "I do." Whatever this was, they could handle it. This was Be she was talking about. And who was this guy? Just Death. No way in hell, Death could ever keep them apart… Even if she only recognized, on some subconscious level, that this was who she faced again.
A brief sense of pressure built around her, as quick and unpleasant as having her ears mildly pop, and she was left wondering oddly, working her jaw as she tried to settle her sense of balance, what the hell that had been… But the preacher was already moving on. Then each will wear the other's ring, and the binding will be made, and eternal.
Lydia turned to Beetlejuice, certain there was something she should say, but forgot what it might be, the moment she saw him holding up the thick band of gold, grinning. Seemed he'd already moved on from whatever was bothering him… He held the ring so that she could see the tiny, ornate 'L' on it, smirked, and slid it, without a damn thought as to why he shouldn't, onto his finger.
Oddly, the sense of pressure vanished, leaving Lydia wondering mildly what had been bothering her a moment before.
I now pronounce you man and wife. You may, the man behind them intonated calmly, almost anti-climactically, kiss the bride.
B swept her up in a bear-gripping hug, leaned in hungrily, eyes flashing… And planted the most delicate, tender kiss she'd ever gotten from the man, gently on her lips. Drawing away, and adding smugly, "What d'ya think of that, babes? Man and wife."
"I'd say… It's about time." Lydia smirked, returning his kiss, sweetly, with one of her own… Only to be caught, now, by his far more demanding lips, leaving her quickly breathless, and laughing. "You're terrible, B!"
"Damn straight!" He agreed, looking much satisfied as he half released her, already pulling her back down the long aisle without so much as a second glance. "So Venice, right? I guaren-fucking-tee you babes, you're gonna love it! Let's just drop by the old place, pick up a few things… Wait!" He stopped short, and gave her a faux sheepish look. "What the fuck am I thinking…?"
A flick of his fingers brought up two well packed suitcases, and left them in, admittedly, rather questionable, over-touristy traveling clothes, making Lydia laugh, again. Which had more or less been the point. Rubbing his hands together before grabbing her own, he flashed her his most charming grin, started 'forward,' and…
Nothing happened.
The smile died slowly on Beetlejuice's face, as he considered the lack of them moving between worlds, as they should have been. He put dropped the luggage in his other hand, reached out, and 'felt' the air before him… But it wasn't like he was having trouble moving the first of the locks… It was like the first of the locks wasn't even there.
Lydia considered him with a puzzled, worried gaze, before, as much as anything to break the building silence, she cleared her throat, and looked around them. "Should we… let them go first?" She prodded, not really as concerned about whether or not they did as she knew she should be.
"Someone fucking will eventually…" He muttered under his breath, staring straight ahead again for upwards of a minute, before turning back to her, with an inspired grin, and tucking her possessively under his arm. "What the hell you wanna go to Venice for anyway, babes? You ain't even seen near the best shit in the neitherworld yet!"
She smiled, pretending she didn't know that, for whatever reason, he couldn't take her to Italy now, and rubbed her cheek against his shoulder, her mind spinning to think of a good place to suggest. "What about the No Nagging Falls?" She prompted, well aware that there was, after all, a sight of falling water like nothing that existed in the living world anyway, with its insane heights, and impossible angles, and- occasionally- it's corkscrew bends.
"Sure, sure…" He seemed a little absent, but the smile he flashed her seemed genuine enough, as he led her through the front door of the still darkened chapel, and into the waking world beyond. "Hell, maybe make a visit to the traveling city of Roam while we're at it… I hear it's underwater this time of year!"
So Lyds knew something was up too, but wasn't letting on. Hell of a woman, his wife. He didn't know himself who'd changed the rules, or when, but she was gonna see him through it… And hell, whoever was locking him out of the living world, seriously didn't know him.
Change of rules, huh? All right then babes, let's change the rules…
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