Wedding
Hermes watched and smiled as Orpheus and Eurydice planned their wedding. While hardly official, Orpheus saw it as practice for the future, and Eurydice indulged him.
Orpheus had already imagined how they would afford such an expense, and Eurydice asked about more practical concerns, like who would come and where they'd get the tables and chairs. He'd smiled and said they could borrow Hermes' furniture, and they'd invite anyone and everyone around them who could come.
His happiness was infectious, and in spite of herself Eurydice began to dream too—at first cups made from hollow stones, but Orpheus encouraged her to think bigger. Their wedding would have napkins made of spider-silk, beautiful and sturdy, cups glimmering with encrusted silver, and the finest clothes money could buy. They'd have so much fruit the seeds would scatter freely on the ground, and birds would circle above them to bless the union.
Then, with a grin, she asked if they could practice kissing, and Orpheus was happy to oblige.
Neither of them knew, though Hermes did, that their imaginary wedding was much like the one Hades and Persephone had so long ago.