[ WP ] Two persons are without any possibility of ever having any direct interaction . They become magically connected . Each of them knows what the other thinks .

What happened at the wedding was a scandal, and the reputation of the most noble House of Sandor never recovered. 
 
 It was supposed to have been a relatively modest affair, since Elishia was Duke Sandor's seventh child ( and fifth daughter ), and the baronet that her family had selected for her had superlative bloodlines, but unfortunately, possessed somewhat less than superlative credit. That being the case, there were only 420 guests, the bridesmaids had been limited to a meager sixteen, the bridal gown cost a paltry 2,700 ducats, and the Grand Cook's suggestion for an entree consisting of bird of paradise tongues in basilisk *foie gras* had been quietly ignored. 
 
 So it was all the more surprising when Elishia stood at the altar, and rather than taking her vows as she had in all the rehearsals, instead turned around, grabbed the sword out of the scabbard of one of the attending guardsmen, and in one smooth motion hacked the train off her wedding dress. Before anyone had the wherewithal to respond to so sudden and so shocking a turn of events, Elishia delivered a solid kick to the delicate regions of her betrothed ( to whom she had -- in private company and on more than one occasion -- referred to as a sod ) and then took firm hold around the waist of a certain bridegroom ( to whom she had -- in private company and on more than one occasion -- referred to as'tasty' ). 
 
 At this point, the stories told by the 420 guests, 48 guardsmen, sixteen bridesmaids, and one archbishop tend to diverge slightly, but most accounts agree that the events included a short swordfight as the startled guardsmen tried to restore order, that the rope which held the heavy chandelier was severed, and that Elishia and her new beau were borne aloft as the mass of wrought iron and candles crashed to the floor, whereupon they broke through the cathedral's stained-glass central window which had been commissioned by High Pope Bodacker XII and was generally reckoned to be priceless. 
 
 Elishia Sandor was never seen again -- at least not by reliable witnesses -- and rumors of a fair-haired adventuress roughly matching the young duchess's description are almost certainly inaccurate. 
 
 * * * * * * * * 
 
 A half a world away, Thangron the Barbarian woke up blearily. He immediately regretted waking up, because even without opening his eyes, he recognized the soft feel of a chiffon dress around his legs. And under that... under *that*, there were *unmentionables*, and he could tell that they were silken and frilly and not barbaric at all. And he could barely breathe. A corset. Of course there had to be a corset. 
 
 When he opened his eyes, all around him, there were dozens of delicate flower arrangements that must have taken hours to complete. And some... was that...? Yes, it was needlepoint. Bloody *needlepoint*. He reached for a bowl of water and saw that his face was elegantly made up with expensive cosmetics that would take hours to scrub off properly. Thangron roared and cast the bowl to the side. 
 
 **'' BY THE BLACK TEATS OF KAL-ETH THE BRINGER OF PLAGUE AND FAMINE, *WHY DOES THIS KEEP HAPPENING TO ME? *'' ** 
 
 
 

