The wedding was only three days away now and all of Demacia was anticipating the event. All the newsstands were concerned with speculation over the event, tabloid magazines ran trashy pieces about "Shyvana's secret Dragon lover," and everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves, everyone except Poppy. She sulked about in the Royal guest room, having trashed every dress the seamstress had designed for her for being "too girly," "too frilly," and "too froo froo-ey."
She needed to see Jarvan about some unfinished business she had with him before she could give him her blessing. That and she wanted this crazy woman with the fabric to stop trying to "enhance," her bust line by stabbing her with pins and posing her like some sort of doll. Poppy was no doll, she was a powerful warrior and would be respected as such. Putting her far more comfortable armor back on and dismissing the forlorn looking seamstress, Poppy set out for the prince's quarters.