The people of Ladidah are throwing a fit over the destroyed wedding and the wedding planners are weeping. Liz's own family is hounding her about her "unlady-like" behavior even as the vorax raiders, the survivors that is, are being dragged off to incarceration and the Brutes are taking the raider ships to turn them in for the credit. Liz decides to give a smackdown, verbally speaking, to them all that 'rich and powerful' is not just for MEN, and 'being able to fight like a fiend', doesn't mean they have to be male, either. And she makes sure her husband is able to give them a few pieces of his mind as well.
@internutter/challenge-03172-h263-they-were-not-invited -- Anon Guest
Kudge thought he'd been in love before the wedding. The snobby gits from Ladidah were having conniptions now that the disaster was over, because now their big showy ceremony was ruined. It was the worst thing to ever happen in their glitteringly extravagant lives.
"At least y'all have lives to complain about it in," he rumbled, ushering a captive Vorax into a stasis pod.
That was when the mother-of-the-bride started going off on a long, complicated rant about how the chefs were trained in the most advanced culinary techniques, and had labored for days to create the bridal feast, how her dress was worth years and some Brute had got Vorax goo on it. She could never wear it again! Not that she actually planned to wear it again, but that wasn't the point. Some paparazzo could have snapped her in a state of dishevelment.
"Oh we sniped them half an hour before the ceremony," said Blaze. At the Ladidah's collective horror, they added, "We only broke their equipment. It's bad luck to kill anyone before a wedding." The question of during or after was left moot.
"The wedding photographer has exclusive rights anyway," said San. "We just enforced that."
"Strenuously," supplied Luse.
Liz's mother didn't take this graciously. She started screaming like a stuck pig. The words that filtered through were: outrage, disgusting, disowned, appalled, disinherited, and mess.
Liz smacked her in the face. Bare-handed, but it was a smack all the same. "I'm glad, you hear me? I'm glad I'm going to a group of people who admire folks for their skill in battle, not how good they look in paparazzi photos. I never have to worry if I'm wearing the same designer timepiece I wore last season because none of the Brutes care about that. They love me for who I am, and what I can do, not where the infonets draw their flakking red circles. They don't need me to have operations to make me desirable. I don't need a trainer to stay on brand. I'm not a product for marketing, and I am glad I am leaving you and all of your bullshit far behind me."
"Well. I never," the mother sputtered.
"No. You never will. Have fun with your pity party. The Brutes and I are taking doggie bags and leaving forever."
She could have gained a mercenary team, but she would have rather lost a daughter.
Kudge Wekka, on the other hand, was never happier to be carried across the threshhold of their new -creatively borrowed- ex-Vorax ship.
[Image (c) Can Stock Photo / oksanabondar]
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