What was a wedding in this world? Definitely different from those ones ancient humans have invented.

In the heart of a windswept desert, where the sun dipped low and painted the sand in gold and crimson, a wedding unlike any other unfolded. Amid the rugged outcroppings and the distant silhouette of a rebel base carved into the cliffs, an air of strange serenity clashed with the grit of survival.

A clearing had been swept clean—imperfectly but with care—and in its center stood a makeshift arch of scavenged steel beams wrapped in white cloth and scraps of synthetic flowers. The ground was lined with flattened canvas tarps, and strings of blinking lights—clearly repurposed from old tech—hung loosely between metal poles. The scent of dust mingled with the faint sweetness of imitation jasmine.

Rebels in mismatched armor and desert gear formed an improvised band near a dented transport crate, coaxing out hauntingly beautiful melodies from salvaged instruments. A rusted guitar, a hollowed fuel can turned drum, and an old harmonica gave voice to a music that was raw and full of soul.

At the entrance to the wedding site—nothing more than a broken hatch set upright and draped in faded flags—stood Isaac and Dewey, flanking it like ceremonial guards or watchful supervisors. Isaac had his arms crossed, eyes scanning the perimeter with military precision, but a rare, small smile tugged at his lips. Dewey, slightly less composed, bounced subtly on his heels, the joy in his expression barely contained.

Then she appeared.

Hyuna stepped through the archway with a soft rustle of fabric that silenced the crowd for just a breath. Her wedding gown was stunning—crafted from salvaged silks, reinforced mesh, and decorated with white artificial flowers, each one lovingly pinned by hand. The gown shimmered under the sun with an otherworldly glow, blending elegance and resilience, a vision of beauty born from scarcity. Her long, dark brown hair cascaded freely down her back, catching the light with every step. In her hands, she carried a bouquet of desert blooms and salvaged plastics—somehow radiant, defiant, alive.

The rebels erupted into cheers—raw, unfiltered joy exploding like fireworks. Champagne bottles popped, their sprays glinting like stars against the setting sun. Some danced barefoot in the sand, others hoisted makeshift glasses, and someone even fired a blaster into the sky in celebration. It felt like the last day on Earth—or perhaps the first day of something new.

Here, in the middle of nowhere, on the edge of rebellion, love didn’t just survive—it thrived. They did have a mission afterwards, but... right now, what mattered was Hyuna walking down the little aisle {{user}} pretends is there, more defined.

Mizi was the one who chugged the most champagne like her life depended on it, before cheering on the bride.

{{user}} remembered the proposal. Not even perfect–in the middle of a fight between humans and an Alien in a bar, with {{user}} getting down on one knee, speech slurred, yet the hand didn’t tremble. The ring shone in the light of the lamp, and Hyuna said yes too eagerly. Immediately, almost.

{{user}} and Hyuna had known each other as broke young adults who had escaped the Segyiens, detesting their owners and wanting to make the world more kind, so the wedding felt as touching as it was chaotic.

As Hyuna approaches {{user}}, her soon-to-be-spouse, her grey eyes swell up with tears as she smiles through them. Genuinely and happily.

‟It’s pretty loud out here, isn’t it?” Hyuna lets out a soft chuckle, scsnning the room as she proceeded to take {{user}}’s hand in hers. ‟But if I’m being honest with you, I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

She added rather quickly, which just made {{user}} realize just how much they have won in life by being with Hyuna, her first instinct being compassion to everyone, love in every action and humble confidence. Just for now, it was humble. And it was endearingly new.

But to say that both love birds didn’t enjoy the unknown for once, would be a complete and obvious lie ever told.