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It was only a matter of time. Now it's official.
Thorn belongs to
PORNGUY !
Art by
ifhy !
Joelle belongs to me!
There were now dozens of guests crowding Saint Joseph’s. A classical, rustic setting in the Louisiana style. Drinking at the tables while sampling the classic Creole food and chatting or dancing to the band’s tune in the garden. So much mirth in the air and in the voices of the guests. Guitars mainly. Lyrics shifting from English, then to French with an unrelenting energy.
Thorn did not recognize many of the faces here. He knew some by osmosis; the panther clan for sure, one of Joelle’s colleagues here and there, a Mardi Gras friend over there. The rest of the guests he was laying eyes for the first time. Odd how the venue was dominated by her friends and family yet that knowledge did not drown his spirit. He’d accepted the fact he needed to move with Joelle in order to nurture their relationship, and this kind of obscurity was one of the compromises he had to endure. It was a logical compromise. An acceptable compromise in the grand scheme.
The bride sat in splendor at the bridesmaids’ table with her mother. He stole glimpses whenever he could. How could he not? Even though she was a mature woman with children there was a youthful radiance. Her beauty rivaled that of the younger girls, but the firm body betrayed her hidden character. The panther had not forgotten to invite her closest friends, colleagues mostly. Thorn’s posse was slim in comparison. No matter. He smiled, drank his wine and told himself it was all proper.
Thorn, Jean and Regis sat next to the door leading to the lobby. Each had a drink. Red wine for the cat, whiskey for the deer and a gin for the old panther man. Thorn drank heavily from his glass and leaned into the chair. His belly was full of Creole style gumbo shrimp and salad and his mind loosened by the sweet summer wine. He hung his jacket on the chair and loosened his tie to feel some of that summer wind. The panther man, still in his suit jacket and unphased by the weather, took a drag from his cigar and tapped the ashes on an ashtray next to his feet. The deer sat cross legged, jacket hung on his chair and shirt sleeves rolled over, and dutifully watched over the cat like a best man should.
Jean’s grandchildren dutifully tended to the guests alongside the waiters, making sure the aura of the place was maintained. For the children, this catering was their way of showing their devotion to their mother. For the elderly panther man, it was his way of making sure his daughter’s special day remained special. Why would he entrust the services of a different establishment, when his own employees and family could do the job just fine? He was a stubborn cat, hard boiled at times, something that became apparent the moment Thorn laid eyes on him. Rough upbringing by the bayou and decades of manual labor had made him unmovable regarding certain matters. Luckily, his daughter’s relationship with Thorn was not subject to his trademark skepticism.
Jean smiled and patted the cat on the back. His pelt was more white and grey than black, but he was still a strong man with firm hands. When he spoke, his voice was a thunderous growl courtesy of years of smoking.
- “So I reckon you’ll be coming to our little corner of the world, son? My bel fanm said you two were discussing whether to settle in Los Angeles or here.” he leaned forward and said “You can guess where my chips are.”
Thorn gave the man an honest smile. Just over an hour ago he’d officially become the husband of Joelle Beuregard, now officially a part of the clan, now officially earning the title of “son”. It sent a warmth through him.
- “We’ve talked about it, me and Joelle.” the drink helped bolster his confidence. Now, he spoke with the same vigor as the deer did during work hours. “Need to go back and pack things up, lots of equipment if you’re an artist. I’ll continue my career alongside her, occasionally travelling back, since you know, already got clients and all that and a man needs to keep them close. It makes more sense given how you and the children are here. That and well, I’m lucky New Orleans is the capital of jazz. Might learn a thing or two!”
- “That’s true, even if the New Yorkers tell you otherwise. You subscribed to the old jazz days, boy?”
- “Depends on what you mean by the old jazz days, sir.”
A man came over offering congratulations to the groom and the bride’s father. He handed the cat a cream-colored envelope, told him to spend it wisely before mixing with the crowd. Money. A decent stack judging by the thickness. One of several gifts he’d received today. He put it in his jacket pocket. He promised himself he’d spend it on his wife and the kids.
- “Reminds me of The Godfather.” said the deer, giving the panther man a curious look. “Ever seen The Godfather, grandfather?”
- “You been to weddings before, boy?” asked the panther.
- “None this lively.”
- “Well I’ll tell you, this right here is the norm around these parts. Big city folk love making things niche and formal and devoid of character. Out here, everyone’s your friend.”
- “Making deals today, hmm?”
- “Ou vle…hmm?”
The deer finished his glass. He motioned towards Timothy the middle Beuregard son and politely requested a refill. Timothy always struck Thorn as a shy and good meaning boy. He reminded him of himself.
The young man gave the deer a nod and took his glass.
- “Honored to be your best man, Thorn.” the deer smiled and pointed a finger at the cat. “This right here is one of the best, most beautiful creatures I’ve ever seen in my entire life. Trust me when I tell you only happiness and fortune await your daughter.”
- “I wouldn’t let her if he wasn’t!” laughed the panther man, giving the cat another pat on the back. “My kids deserve only the best, and so do their kids. You can give them the best, can you, Mr. Thorn?”
The cat’s smile widened.
- “Indeed I can, sir. Indeed I can. For the woman I love, everything.”
- “Good man.”
At the bridesmaid’s table Joelle was bombarded with questions about her relationship with Thorn. The typical list. His career. His interests. Why she married someone half her age. Was there a monetary or legal angle? But it was her mother who whispered the hard hitting questions.
Marcelle Beuregard did not share her husband’s submerged cynicism. She was an old woman with a weak but genuine smile who would much rather spend her time doing work or read or listen to music than entertain people’s worries and inadequacies. But whenever she spoke of a topic serious or demanding immediate attention, she cut like a razor.
- “Mother, Thorn’s going to take care of the kids like they’re his own. Don’t give me that look, please.”
The old panther woman let out a heavy sigh.
- “You know I worry…ever since he left, I haven’t stopped worrying.
Joelle gave her a reassuring look.
- “I love him and I’ve matured since the last time I married. Don’t worry. He’s not like that.”
Thorn belongs to
PORNGUY !Art by
ifhy ! Joelle belongs to me!
There were now dozens of guests crowding Saint Joseph’s. A classical, rustic setting in the Louisiana style. Drinking at the tables while sampling the classic Creole food and chatting or dancing to the band’s tune in the garden. So much mirth in the air and in the voices of the guests. Guitars mainly. Lyrics shifting from English, then to French with an unrelenting energy.
Thorn did not recognize many of the faces here. He knew some by osmosis; the panther clan for sure, one of Joelle’s colleagues here and there, a Mardi Gras friend over there. The rest of the guests he was laying eyes for the first time. Odd how the venue was dominated by her friends and family yet that knowledge did not drown his spirit. He’d accepted the fact he needed to move with Joelle in order to nurture their relationship, and this kind of obscurity was one of the compromises he had to endure. It was a logical compromise. An acceptable compromise in the grand scheme.
The bride sat in splendor at the bridesmaids’ table with her mother. He stole glimpses whenever he could. How could he not? Even though she was a mature woman with children there was a youthful radiance. Her beauty rivaled that of the younger girls, but the firm body betrayed her hidden character. The panther had not forgotten to invite her closest friends, colleagues mostly. Thorn’s posse was slim in comparison. No matter. He smiled, drank his wine and told himself it was all proper.
Thorn, Jean and Regis sat next to the door leading to the lobby. Each had a drink. Red wine for the cat, whiskey for the deer and a gin for the old panther man. Thorn drank heavily from his glass and leaned into the chair. His belly was full of Creole style gumbo shrimp and salad and his mind loosened by the sweet summer wine. He hung his jacket on the chair and loosened his tie to feel some of that summer wind. The panther man, still in his suit jacket and unphased by the weather, took a drag from his cigar and tapped the ashes on an ashtray next to his feet. The deer sat cross legged, jacket hung on his chair and shirt sleeves rolled over, and dutifully watched over the cat like a best man should.
Jean’s grandchildren dutifully tended to the guests alongside the waiters, making sure the aura of the place was maintained. For the children, this catering was their way of showing their devotion to their mother. For the elderly panther man, it was his way of making sure his daughter’s special day remained special. Why would he entrust the services of a different establishment, when his own employees and family could do the job just fine? He was a stubborn cat, hard boiled at times, something that became apparent the moment Thorn laid eyes on him. Rough upbringing by the bayou and decades of manual labor had made him unmovable regarding certain matters. Luckily, his daughter’s relationship with Thorn was not subject to his trademark skepticism.
Jean smiled and patted the cat on the back. His pelt was more white and grey than black, but he was still a strong man with firm hands. When he spoke, his voice was a thunderous growl courtesy of years of smoking.
- “So I reckon you’ll be coming to our little corner of the world, son? My bel fanm said you two were discussing whether to settle in Los Angeles or here.” he leaned forward and said “You can guess where my chips are.”
Thorn gave the man an honest smile. Just over an hour ago he’d officially become the husband of Joelle Beuregard, now officially a part of the clan, now officially earning the title of “son”. It sent a warmth through him.
- “We’ve talked about it, me and Joelle.” the drink helped bolster his confidence. Now, he spoke with the same vigor as the deer did during work hours. “Need to go back and pack things up, lots of equipment if you’re an artist. I’ll continue my career alongside her, occasionally travelling back, since you know, already got clients and all that and a man needs to keep them close. It makes more sense given how you and the children are here. That and well, I’m lucky New Orleans is the capital of jazz. Might learn a thing or two!”
- “That’s true, even if the New Yorkers tell you otherwise. You subscribed to the old jazz days, boy?”
- “Depends on what you mean by the old jazz days, sir.”
A man came over offering congratulations to the groom and the bride’s father. He handed the cat a cream-colored envelope, told him to spend it wisely before mixing with the crowd. Money. A decent stack judging by the thickness. One of several gifts he’d received today. He put it in his jacket pocket. He promised himself he’d spend it on his wife and the kids.
- “Reminds me of The Godfather.” said the deer, giving the panther man a curious look. “Ever seen The Godfather, grandfather?”
- “You been to weddings before, boy?” asked the panther.
- “None this lively.”
- “Well I’ll tell you, this right here is the norm around these parts. Big city folk love making things niche and formal and devoid of character. Out here, everyone’s your friend.”
- “Making deals today, hmm?”
- “Ou vle…hmm?”
The deer finished his glass. He motioned towards Timothy the middle Beuregard son and politely requested a refill. Timothy always struck Thorn as a shy and good meaning boy. He reminded him of himself.
The young man gave the deer a nod and took his glass.
- “Honored to be your best man, Thorn.” the deer smiled and pointed a finger at the cat. “This right here is one of the best, most beautiful creatures I’ve ever seen in my entire life. Trust me when I tell you only happiness and fortune await your daughter.”
- “I wouldn’t let her if he wasn’t!” laughed the panther man, giving the cat another pat on the back. “My kids deserve only the best, and so do their kids. You can give them the best, can you, Mr. Thorn?”
The cat’s smile widened.
- “Indeed I can, sir. Indeed I can. For the woman I love, everything.”
- “Good man.”
At the bridesmaid’s table Joelle was bombarded with questions about her relationship with Thorn. The typical list. His career. His interests. Why she married someone half her age. Was there a monetary or legal angle? But it was her mother who whispered the hard hitting questions.
Marcelle Beuregard did not share her husband’s submerged cynicism. She was an old woman with a weak but genuine smile who would much rather spend her time doing work or read or listen to music than entertain people’s worries and inadequacies. But whenever she spoke of a topic serious or demanding immediate attention, she cut like a razor.
- “Mother, Thorn’s going to take care of the kids like they’re his own. Don’t give me that look, please.”
The old panther woman let out a heavy sigh.
- “You know I worry…ever since he left, I haven’t stopped worrying.
Joelle gave her a reassuring look.
- “I love him and I’ve matured since the last time I married. Don’t worry. He’s not like that.”
Category Artwork (Digital) / All
Species Unspecified / Any
Size 1728 x 2132px
File Size 4.08 MB
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