“…dragged him straight to the house and he married us on the spot!” Tamara spreads her hands wide, an incredulous smile on her lips.
Deirdre claps her hands together, also smiling broadly. “Even more romantic than the first try! There was no doubt in my mind that he would still sweep you off your feet.”
The young witch blushes, bowing her head to the older woman. “You were right, Oracle. There was not even a hint of hesitation in his step.”
The taller woman rolls her eyes and fixes Tamara with a mockingly stern stare. “Please call me Deirdre. All day long I hear: ‘Yes, Oracle’, ‘No, Oracle’, ‘As you wish, Oracle’. It’s enough to drive you mad. It would be nice to have one person who would treat me as a friend instead of a walking religious icon.”
Tamara leans over and gives her a quick hug, “Of course, Deirdre. You have been a wonderful friend.”
The older woman catches her breath at the wave of images, covering the moment by sipping her cider. As the disorientation passes, she smiles knowingly at the girl.
“And your wedding night was romantic as well?”
Tamara blushes even more. “He is very… dextrous.” She clasps her hands over her mouth, stifling a giggle. She reaches down to stroke her fox’s red fur. “Although we had to kick this one out of the room. He kept peering at us over the edge of the bed, whining like a neglected child.”
Deirdre laughs and takes another sip. “Despite his youthful vigor, I’m sure Nicholas was happier not having a curious audience.”
The Oracle leans forward, giving her friend a bittersweet smile. “I’m so happy for you, Tamara. Nicholas is a fine young man. Strong, well respected, capable. Certain to be a loving husband.”
One of the bevy of images replays itself in her mind’s eye.
And a good father.