Jack o' the Green (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
jack_inthegreen) wrote2005-06-21 04:09 am
jack_inthegreen) wrote2005-06-21 04:09 am
Good Solstice, ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
milliways_bar
In the gray pre-dawn light, the man in green has been busy.
There are rows of trestle tables set up by the lake--far from the new grave as well as anything else that might be disturbed by such things--and on the central table he sets up the horn of plenty he carved the day before. Now he lays a hand on the wood and quietly asks the elements around it to fill the horn and assemble themselves, so that there will be plenty to eat and it will all be nourishing and tasty. When he has done this the horn begins to fill and soon food is spilling out: fruit and bottles of wine and loaves of bread and slabs of cold cooked meats and wheels of cheese and whatever else a patron might think to ask for.
At the end of the rows of tables there is a wooden platform, with a small raised stage for musicians and plenty of room for dancers. Jack has found no one to play pipes but no matter, there are still musicians aplenty should anyone wish to dance. And he hopes they will, for what's a celebration without dancing?
Beyond the tables there is a small course set up for races, just a starting- and finish-lines marked off. There is a large rope for tug-of-war, various props like sacks for sack races and spoons for an egg-and-spoon race, and a pitch for bowls and another for playing horsehoes. He thought about playing tossing the caber but decided that might be pushing things a bit, even here.
Farthest from the bar proper is the bonfire, currently unlit. He pauses there and asks the fire within the wood to do no harm to anyone, that there will be no stray sparks or wayward ash to burn.
There is a great deal of magic at Milliways for him to draw upon and soon the party preparations meet with his satisfaction. He blesses the area before he goes back inside for some more rest before the party begins: that no one will be hurt in play or eat themselves sick, that not even a dancer's ankle be turned.
When he is done the morning fog is just beginning to burn off. It's going to be a beautiful day.
There are rows of trestle tables set up by the lake--far from the new grave as well as anything else that might be disturbed by such things--and on the central table he sets up the horn of plenty he carved the day before. Now he lays a hand on the wood and quietly asks the elements around it to fill the horn and assemble themselves, so that there will be plenty to eat and it will all be nourishing and tasty. When he has done this the horn begins to fill and soon food is spilling out: fruit and bottles of wine and loaves of bread and slabs of cold cooked meats and wheels of cheese and whatever else a patron might think to ask for.
At the end of the rows of tables there is a wooden platform, with a small raised stage for musicians and plenty of room for dancers. Jack has found no one to play pipes but no matter, there are still musicians aplenty should anyone wish to dance. And he hopes they will, for what's a celebration without dancing?
Beyond the tables there is a small course set up for races, just a starting- and finish-lines marked off. There is a large rope for tug-of-war, various props like sacks for sack races and spoons for an egg-and-spoon race, and a pitch for bowls and another for playing horsehoes. He thought about playing tossing the caber but decided that might be pushing things a bit, even here.
Farthest from the bar proper is the bonfire, currently unlit. He pauses there and asks the fire within the wood to do no harm to anyone, that there will be no stray sparks or wayward ash to burn.
There is a great deal of magic at Milliways for him to draw upon and soon the party preparations meet with his satisfaction. He blesses the area before he goes back inside for some more rest before the party begins: that no one will be hurt in play or eat themselves sick, that not even a dancer's ankle be turned.
When he is done the morning fog is just beginning to burn off. It's going to be a beautiful day.
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He grins.
"Are we taking part in that?"
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"Oh, wouldn't that be a spectacle? Flopping free and easy, dancing like an Englishman. People pay money to see that at freakshows, perhaps."
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"That they are. I didn't have to ask if my bum looked big in it or anything."
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"With this body, wouldn't you be?"
He looks Charlie over.
"I suppose, with yours, you could do cute or sexy. Hmm. Choices, choices."
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Cute? Sexy? Most days he thinks of himself just as 'goofy'.
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"No, you do not look twelve. The thought is... quite disturbing."
He squints.
"Were you prone to wearing skirts at twelve?"
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"I'd have said twenty, actually. But when I was younger, you have to remember, we all looked younger than we were. When I was seventeen, I looked about fourteen. It was terrible."
He grins.
"Of course, now I'm eighty-six and I look twenty-seven."
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"You did not look twelve, good lord, Charlie."
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"Well, don't be so damn silly. Honestly. Twelve! You were sixteen or seventeen and looked it, if not older."
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"Underneath all my clothes, I'm naked too."
Tickle tickle tickle.
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The near-foot in height David has on him is entirely unfair.