|(#TwilightRealm, #Witches, #Dorch #Fae, #Oakenlings, etc. belong to the lovely @LadyLeaf - Fatine belongs to the equally delightful @DuskyAsianRose)
Istharé was clearly in heaven, despite having only fruit juice to drink. Everyone wanted to dance with the bride. The fact that she was a Witch of the Union of Vengeance seemed to be temporarily forgotten, or simply didn't matter so much now that she actually was Ooneil's wife. She was virtually one of them, and those who couldn't actively appreciate her at least accepted her.
As far as the dancing, 'anything goes' appeared to be the unofficial Lyllaen motto. While some of the Fae gyrated purely to their own inner drummers, the large communal dances were mostly three-dimensional variations on some form of Highland Fling. After all, why have the ability to hover given to you by your wings if you're not going to use it? Istharé's partners had the courtesy to stay on the ground while they were twirling her around, however.