"I know you're wrong for me,
gonna wish we never met on the day I leave."
In August of 2022, Astrid Boutella must reconcile with a three hundred year old relationship that's fractured in more ways than one when her former lover breaks out of mystic...
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"I was hanged for living alone, for having blue eyes and a sunburned skin, tattered skirts, few buttons, a weedy farm in my own name, and a surefire cure for warts;
Oh yes, and breasts, and a sweet pear hidden in my body, Whenever there's talk of demons these come in handy." — Half-Hanged Mary, Margaret Atwood
ISSUE #1. THE BLOODY NUPTIALS
♰
May of 2005.
"Sweet or dry?"
Astrid scrunched her nose, smirking cheekily, "Let's go dry. I need something brittle to drown out the horrible romance of the evening."
Her great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great granddaughter (that's twelve generations) mirrored her grin and handed her a flute filled with sparkling champagne, before joining her at the table. "I know. It's so nauseating, isn't it?"
The brunette chuckled into her drink, taking a small sip as she glanced around the venue. The Moonraker Hotel was a lavish, ancient manor between Trowbridge and Bradford with twenty three suites, moss-covered cobblestone walls, a sizable garden house, and vibrant green canvases of outdoor forestry. The actual wedding ceremony took place in a Baptist church a couple of miles away, but afterwards, a procession of cars led them to the manor's milking parlor, where the reception was taking place. By no means was it the wedding of the century — nowhere near the extravagance of Grace Kelly and Prince Rainier, or Diana and Charles — but it was a truly delightful party. She didn't know the bride and groom personally, only managing to briefly introduce herself and congratulate them the morning she arrived from London (that's two train rides from King's Cross and Leeds, thank you very much), but they seemed genuinely happy and very in love. Currently, they were feeding each other canapes while uncontrollably giggling in front of the fireplace, making Astrid cringe with awkwardness, though she supposed she couldn't blame the young couple.
Truthfully, the (technically) twenty-five year old didn't mind weddings, wasn't cynical in that way yet, but they could be exhausting all-day affairs. The only reason she bothered to attend was, because her granddaughter Donna begged very nicely for her to come as her plus-one, seeing as her boyfriend was still stationed overseas in Helmand. She had the weekend off, and made zero plans with Sabrina or her brothers, so there was really no reason for her to say no to free food, drinks, and dancing.
