I suppose the most pertinent question would be whether or not these kids were in their right mind; they weren?t.

Love did that.
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Or stupidity, but at this point who was really paying attention?
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One really mustn?t ask how their actions came about. The story was too far fetched for even them to believe; a plot reminesant of a Shakespeare comedy, or a sitcom. It?s best to just nod your head and smile for the remainder of this story. Please, dear reader, try not to fall out of your chair.

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They made a mad dash for home: two sets of feet pounding the cobbles of WestEnd. The pair's breaths caught in their throats, hands linked together in a sweaty grasp. There was only twenty minutes left until the courthouse closed. Erin reached the porch first pulling Bastian behind her. Two sets of damp hands went for her purse. Little fingers made it in and out first and she turned to shove the key into the door. A push right....thunk. A push left....thunk. It wouldn't open!
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"Hurry! Unlock it!" Bastian crowded in on Erin, hands slipping around her waist as she tried to open the door. Her dress wrinkled under the urging of his fingers, and she pushed back into him, laughing. Push right...thunk. Smoke floated up from their mouths, the cold causing their breaths to mingle like snakes in the early evening. Push left...thunk.
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"I am?you?re distracting me!" Erin laughed and swatted at him. Push right and...clickclick; they finally got the door open! Both stumbled inside of the foyer. It was a tangle of arms and legs as they pushed over the threshold; his arms were around her waist, her hands pushed back on his stomach; their legs were twisted and intertwined. As the couple stumbled towards the bedroom, Erin called out, "Dibs on the bedroom! I need to change."
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Bastian, giving Erin a most mischievous look, pulled away from her, letting her tumble to the floor. It was easy now for him to beat her to the bedroom, taking the spiral stairs two at a time. She scampered after, clawing herself to her feet before dashing behind him up the stairs. Erin was no match for Bastian, though, and he even managed to shut and lock the door before she got there.Erin pounded her fists on the hardwood door.

"Sebastian de Vernon! Let me in there this minute! We?re going to be late!" Her voice was a cross between a panicky whine and matronly demand: just shrill enough, just sad enough, just mad enough.
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"Alright, alright!" He swung the door open and grinned. There was nothing different about him, just that cheshire grin and twinkling eyes. Erin grabbed him by the shoulders, yanking forward. Bastian gave a yelp as he was pushed into the hall and had the door slammed in his face.

Sometimes, dear Reader, being anxious is more than an annoyance, but a warning. OUr heros, however, were too stubborn to admit to that. Now that they were there, it was almost unthinkable that one would back down in front of the other.

This is how the worst mistakes are made.

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He was fine until the courthouse came into view. Suddenly, the knots in his stomach from earlier in the day were back. Instantly, he felt sick and nervous, wanting to turn and run the other way. But he stopped himself; Erin was worth this. She was worth proving this to?that things could stay the same. He just had to keep reminding himself that ?She?s worth it.?

Erin saw the courthouse and wanted to scream. What was she doing? This was her worst nightmare... to be married again. To have to face that reality. She knew Bastian would never bet her or yell at her, but once she was *his* wife it would forever be different. He would be forever right, she forever wrong; he would forever be in control. She couldn't do this. Ruin him like this. But Erin would, had to. She had to prove to him that marriage wasn't worth it. That they could be together without it.

The courthouse was white brick, dwarfed by the buildings around it. An overworked satellite to the burnt down courts, the building seemed to be a hub of activity. A mix of races and classes similar to the Red Dragon Inn circulated outside, mulling about at the base of the stairs. Up, up, up the stairs and through the doors??they?d made it! It closed in 7 minutes, but that didn't matter; they could stay until they had been helped.
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Sebastian led Erin to a seat and then went up to the counter to see about getting a marriage license. As he approached the window the teller sneered at him. She was old with long blonde hair that collected around her shoulders in a small wasps nest that could only form in a government office. Her lipstick was smeared to cover about an inch around her lips, making her mouth appear frighteningly large. She sighed, a wheezy sigh(too many years of coffee and cigarettes). Her mummified fingers slid him a ticket with a small printed number and her weathered voice(sandpaper for the ears) announced their twenty minute wait.

The feeling of paper on Bastian's hand relaxed him a little. It was cool, smooth, perfect. His fist closed around the paper. It crinkled in his grasp, making a painfully low noise that only he could hear.

Those twenty minutes were spent in silence. At one point, Sebastian pulled Erin into his lap; his fingers wrapped around her waist and he lifted her up and over without effort, without thinking. If you asked him later how that twenty minutes was spent, he couldn't tell you. Neither could she. Erin fidgeted and played with her skirt, slender fingers rolling the fabric into little balls and then releasing them. Sebastian fidgeted and played with Erin?s hair, twirling it around and around his roughening fingers. Neither could speak a word; afraid to jinx it, or that the other would back down.
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Suddenly, a voice cut through the room. "Number 24. Last call." Sebastian jumped and unfurled his fingers, looking at the paper in his hand. His vision was blurred, his hearing echoey, but it was unmistakable; they were number 24.
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"Erin," he whispered. "That?s us?"

Erin blinked. She came back to reality, pulling herself from the depth of her thoughts. What was she doing? She hadn't noticed ending up on Bastian's lap; she hadn't heard their number get called; she hadn't even seen the little piece of paper. She was shaking, a leaf in the November air. Bastian hadn't noticed yet; not even when she latched her fingers around his arm like a vice; probably because he was shaking too.

By the time they made it up to the Justice of the Peace, Bastian couldn?t feel his legs and his mouth was dry?.so dry; it tasted as if it were stuffed with cotton. They answered questions and signed papers, verified information and signed more papers. The "sign heres" and "initial heres" and "date theres" began to pile up. Erin couldnt' tell what she was writing anymore: her name, her address, her name again, was she a Rhydin citezen, did she have a job... Bastian scribbled furiously next to her, but she couldn't concentrate. It was taking her forever. Finally, she finished, handing her pile of papers over to the judge, who stood at last. Bastian thought this was it. He tried to swallow, but he couldn?t. That lump there had grown into a mountain. His entire body was shaking, but so was hers. They clung to each other, drawing strength off each other... What a sight they must be. Two kids, shaking like leaves, and looking more terrified than happy.

Why were they doing this?

"I?ll be back with the license for you to sign. It will take a few moments." The judge was middle aged with a mop of dark hair atop his head. He bustled by with indifferent speed. His robe was a little too big, clearly he had lost a lot of weight, the skin on his neck hanging loosely down to his chest. Looking down at some documents while he spoke, his voice came out nasally, a shrill squeak in an otherwise quiet room. He gathered up some documents and turned. "You will need a witness by the time I return." And with that, he swept off into a back room a flurry of robes and nasally coughing.

Sebastian drew in a breath. Seemed like the first taken since entering the building. The air was stale, as if the windows hadn't been opened in years. The yellow tint of the white walls had transfered into the air. Bastian suddenly felt a little trapped there, in the room; a little as if this wasn't the best decision for them. They deserved a better wedding. He glanced down at Erin who was still clinging to his arm and shaking; it changed his mind. She looked happy and excited and scared to death. It was beautiful and touching and heartbreaking all at once. He smiled and opened his mouth to speak, "I guess we need to find a witness."

Erin looked up at him. Her eyes were wide with fear and excitement. Her mouth curved in a smile, while her brows furrowed. She looked like a scrambled version of herself. Each part of her face a different emotion. She tried to speak, mouth opening and closing a few times before she just nodded.
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"Want me to go find one?" He smiled warmly when she nodded again. Erin's fingers were white knuckled as she clutched to his coat; she was afraid that if he left, he'd never come back.However, it only made Bastian's smile grow. "I take it you?re coming with, eh?" He spoke softly and reassuringly rather than purely in jest.