Eventually, though, even cuddling wears a bit thin.

  Marigold, Lavender sends. I’m out of architecture thoughts, even though we’re not finished unpacking. I feel like I want to do something that’s a little more active and engaging.

  You could read a book, Marigold suggests. I have some suggestions you could try.

  No, more active than that. I guess I could py a video game but it feels a little silly when I’m already in immersive VR. It’s a waste of the technology. I don’t particurly want to do random quests when there’s no point in leveling up. Really the issue here is that we’ve got… A whole lot of sand and no box.

  Marigold taps her fingers to her lips. Well, you could py an existing VRMMO…?

  At one ten-thousandth speed? No thank you. And I don’t want to slow down to do stuff either. Then I’d have to think about saving the world, and I don’t want to save the world just yet.

  Marigold shrugs. Write? Do crafts? Color? Py with putting in a magic system? Talk to Annabelle about mod configuration? Rolepy? Procedurally generate some nd and go hunting or sailing or just exploring?

  I think going exploring is a good idea, Lavender sends. Thank you, I’ll try that.

  I really really need to do writing, Marigold sends. With this amount of speedup, perhaps I’ll be able to publish something on Earth. But you could try Annabelle.

  Of course, dearest. See you again soon.

  Lavender unsnuggles from her pce at the center of the hoard, and ascends the stairs to the main floor.

  Annabelle, she sends. Where are you?

  Making a little fishing hut on the coast, she sends. Come see?

  Lavender steps out onto the back porch of the little neo-victorian house, heading towards the river. How long is the trip? Should I teleport or just go downriver a bit?

  Annabelle’s warm mind-voice comes back over the telepathic link. I think you’d enjoy the trip. It’s a ways downriver, but not so far you couldn’t paddle it. And there are no rapids or simir; the world’s set to “cozy” right now.

  Alright. Then I’ll come on down soon! Lavender conjures up a small rowboat tied up by the river, and steps into it and seats herself at the gunnels. Taking an oar in each hand, she casts off by menu, and pushes out into the river’s current.

  See you then. I love you!

  Love you too, sweetheart.

  Drifting on the river’s current, Lavender floats downstream, her gaze cast around at the forest all around her. Tiny birds flicker through the trees: both songbirds in bright plumage, and a few magpies whose iridescent feathers glitter in the half-light. The light dapples on the water beneath the forest canopy, and fallen trees half-grown over with moss and others starting to erode into the river lie along the shoreline.

  The sun is high in the sky; she doesn’t think they’ve started the day/night cycle properly yet, since they’re doing setup and haven’t decided if anything - monsters, animals, NPCs - will spawn at night. The river flows on, descending slowly out of the hills in slow winding loops, spreading out zily into marshnds and then gathering together again into a solid band. The boat knows where it’s going, which is good, because Lavender certainly doesn’t.

  On she rows, slow and steady, watching mangrove trees pass by; and then on the far side of the wetnds she comes to a small grove of sakura trees, pink-blossomed and brilliant, as if it were the flower of spring. She smiles to herself; though the generated terrain is a bit silly, it is very pretty, and she’s enjoying the view.

  On the boat wends, down hill and dale, through a high-sided ravine between two greater hills and then down and out a fjord to the ocean. Lavender turns it around on the waves of the sea and looks at the shoreline for signs of occupation…

  And there it is, an old, well-weathered fishing shack with a rge dock outside, smoke coming out of the chimney of the old house and moss clinging to its roof, the beach outside covered in iridescent pebbles that shimmer and shine with strands of mica. It’s lovely, if a bit rustic; she pilots the boat in with just a little help from the simution, and ties up at the dock, then steps up onto the pier with a smile on her lips.

  “Annabelle!” She calls, cpping her hands to draw her attention. “Annabelle, are you there?~”

  Annabelle steps out of the fishing shack, wings fring behind her, and waves high above her head. “Lavender! Lavender, over here!”

  Lavender rushes down the dock and tackles Annabelle in a sharp hug, her arms wrapping hard around her.

  “Been only a few hours but I missed you,” she says into her shoulder. “Still not used to getting to really hug you.”

  Annabelle runs her hands over Lavender’s back and softly smooths her hair. “It’s alright. You know you can teleport to me or Marigold whenever you want, right?”

  “I know. I just… It’s the aesthetic of the thing.” Lavender giggles and unhugs from Annabelle with a soft smile. “It’s good to see you.”

  “And good to see you. Come in, sit by the fire.” Annabelle smiles and gestures Lavender into the small house.

  Lavender comes inside, and sits in one of the cozy rocking chairs by the small fire. There’s an old-fashioned iron stove in the corner of the room, lying cool for the moment, a bookshelf full of battered paperbacks about pirates, tackle boxes by the side of the room, and a pair of modern compound bows hanging up on the wall.

  “I thought you might want to go hunting,” Annabelle says. “You’ve been training with that bow for exercise - I wondered if you might want to try it out here too.”

  “I guess my major compint about hunting’s been dealt with, yeah,” Lavender says. “Since the deer aren’t actually aware, they’re just NPCs here.”

  “There’s realism settings for it too, of course,” Annabelle says. “So you wouldn’t even have to make it as difficult as it is in the real world, where they can smell you.”

  Lavender smiles softly and nods. “I’ll think about it. This is a cozy little pce. I assume it’s to come back to after sailing and to keep your sailing gear in, yes?”

  “Yeah,” Annabelle says. “The boat will be next, but I want to get her perfect, so I’m going to want to think about her long and hard before I build her. I want to touch every pnk that goes into her.”

  “Aww,” Lavender says. “That’s precious. Good luck with that, then.” She shimmies her shoulders against her chair. “You know what, I think I could curl up with a good book after all. Do you have any of my bound web fiction here?”

  Annabelle nods, and pulls out a heavy book with a rooster on the cover. “You were midway through this one, st I checked?”

  “Thanks, Annabelle.” Lavender smiles. “I think I’ll curl up here by the fire, then.”

  “Want a pet bed?” Annabelle asks.

  Lavender considers, then shakes her head. “No, it’s better to sit up while reading. But thank you for the offer.”

  “Alright, then. I think I’m going to go fish off the end of the dock,” Annabelle says. “Feel free to send a tell or just come on out to chat.”

  “Will do, love,” Lavender says. “Will do.”

  And she settles in to read for a while…

  But reading wears thin, too, and slowly, like a memory dawning, Lavender comes to the realization that she’s stalling.

  The truth is, she wants to get married. She wants to be Marigold’s, forever and ever. And she’s not going to have any more guests than Annabelle for the foreseeable future, not when Earth is running ten thousand times slower. Two hundred years till someone new, unless she skips ahead, and she doesn’t want to skip ahead. Every year with her loves is so precious.

  A soft smile comes to her face, and she takes a deep breath.

  Annabelle, she sends. I want to marry Marigold.

  Aren’t you two married already? You said the words to her in a chat channel long ago. It’s what you mean in your heart that matters, not the ceremony or the legalities of it.

  We are, Lavender sends. But… I want to honor the old forms a little, and I know Marigold will love it. In a way she wouldn’t love a rger ceremony.

  She worries her fingers against each other in her p, thinking again about Marigold, Marigold, Marigold. And I still want to look in her eyes and say the words. It’s different, doing it over a chat channel. I want to reaffirm my devotion to her, in my own heart and in the eyes of the only other person who really matters.

  Alright, love. Annabelle’s mind-voice is warm. I’ll officiate for you, if you would like that.

  I would.

  When?

  Lavender takes a deep breath, and exhales. Now would be good. Less stalling.

  I’ll meet you in the rose garden by the house. Annabelle’s mind-voice is firm, decisive.

  Lavender nods, and turns her attention to Marigold.

  Dearest, she sends. I want to marry you. Again, face to face, with the proper forms. I want to be yours in heart and soul forever. Annabelle has agreed to officiate. Is that alright?

  Of course it’s alright.

  Marigold’s mind-voice shimmers with overflowing affection, joy and satisfaction inter-braiding in her heart.

  Let us go together. Come to my side.

  Lavender teleports, and arrives back in the Hoard, still in her hoard-treasure’s uniform after all this time. There’s no better thing to wear, for her.

  Marigold catches her out of the air, and settles her firmly back down on her feet. She wears a long dress that is the perfect green of the deep forest, a perfect silver circlet on her brow, and her wedding ring still rests on her finger, silvery and solid.

  She takes Lavender by the hand, and leads her up the stairs, step by step, up into the lounge; then out the back doors into the rose garden, underneath the canopy of the redwoods, with the river close enough to hear and see. It rushes and babbles, soft and gentle.

  At the far end of the garden, Annabelle stands. She has a book in her hands, but it’s no bible; it’s another story, about a woman who had nothing and yet found beauty in life nonetheless. A treasured object; Lavender had read it, word by word, over voice to her wife when they were both hiding from their respective families, in the closet and searching for any spark of light.

  Seeing the story in Annabelle’s hands pierces Lavender through, and she takes a sharp breath.

  Marigold squeezes her hand, and leads her on. Up two small steps, to the pnter of roses Annabelle is standing before. She outstretches her hands and ys the book ft between them.

  “Both of you,” she says. “Lay your hands on her. Your precious thing. The spark and fme of your care for each other.”

  Lavender reaches out, and rests her hand atop the book; and Marigold reaches out, and rests her hand atop Lavender’s.

  “I am here,” Annabelle says, “to affirm the sacredness of your bond, in your own hearts, before the only people that truly matter. Though we all know that in this world there is no higher power to appeal to, nonetheless, there are things that matter to us humans. In every century, in every country, this rite has persisted; the joining of two people in an eternal bond, to be broken only by death.”

  Annabelle looks from Marigold to Lavender. “I won’t provide vows for either of you. I will simply ask: Do you, Lavender, take this woman, Marigold, to be your wife, for all the turnings of the world, till the stars die in the sky and the st bck hole in the universe finally evaporates to nothing?”

  Lavender takes a breath. “I take Marigold as my wife. I swear to love her, to serve her, and to obey her, to worship at her feet and be her pything for all the turnings of the world. I swear to cherish her, to keep her always in my heart, and to always come back to her, however far I may wander. I am hers in sickness and in health, in joy and in sorrow, from the dawn of day to the dusk of night and back again. I will always love you, Marigold. I can no more stop myself from loving you than extinguish the sun.”

  Annabelle turns to Marigold. “And do you, Marigold, take this woman, Lavender, to be your wife for all the turnings of the world, till the stars die in the sky and the slow mechanisms of the universe wind to a final stop?”

  Marigold nods. “I swear to love and keep loyally in my heart my precious Lavender. Let it be death that parts us, and nothing and no-one else. I am hers and she is mine. I will never betray her, never cast her aside, and tend to her with kindness and gentleness for all her days. She is my property, now and for always.”

  Annabelle smiles. “May all your oaths prove true.” She looks from Lavender to Marigold, and back again, then smiles. “By the power vested in me by your two loving hearts, which know the answer already better than I ever could, I now pronounce you wife and wife.”

  She looks from Marigold to Lavender. “You may kiss the bride.”

  Lavender and Marigold turn as one, and press in close as they can. Their lips touch, deep and full and firm, and then they part, half-panting, intoxicated with each other and with the depth of the moment.

  “Congratutions,” Annabelle says. She hands the book back to Marigold. “Take good care of her. And may your union prove long and fulfilling, for all your many, many days.”

  Marigold smiles. “I will.”

  And hand in hand, she leads Lavender out into the gardens, and from there on into the great redwood forest, there to keep and cherish her as she promised.

  ~*~

  In an anonymous clearing somewhere in the depths of the forest, Lavender stoops down among the raised roots of an ancient tree, and through a yered illusion of a hillside, into a small and cozy nook lit by soft pink light. The roots of the tree braid past the view out and down into a small dell by the river, and long quilted mats of pillow have been id out between them and the back wall of the small space beneath the tree’s trunk. The space is just big enough for the pair of them to lie together.

  Here, Marigold and Lavender curl up and rest, hands tangled together as Lavender reads the old story once again, Marigold reading over her shoulder. The book’s pages turn slowly, page by page, and the sun slowly sets in the distance, bringing out a tapestry of silvery stars.

  Marigold closes her eyes gently, and ys back against the pillows, curling up against the far wall of the small nook. Lavender kisses her forehead, and smiles. She’s missed lunch and supper in all the commotion, but she doesn’t mind. She doesn’t need them any more, anyway. All she needs is right here with her.

  She ys her head on Marigold’s shoulder, and closes her eyes.