Good Solstice, milliways_bar

[jack_inthegreen]

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.

Comments

[mctrillian.livejournal.com]

"Oh, always." Trillian grins. "You should try a Gargleblaster."

[forsaken-bard.livejournal.com]

Asmodean considered.

"Perhaps, I will."

He paused for a moment, and remembers that he has forgotten his harp. This is quickly remedied by a tiny portal, and his harp floats into his hand supported by invisible weaves of air. The portal vanishes.

"Would you care for some music, Lady Trillian?"

[mctrillian.livejournal.com]

"Still got a tragic counterrevolutionary for me?" Trillian asks, grinning some more.

"I was looking forward to it."

[forsaken-bard.livejournal.com]

Asmodean smiled knowingly.

"Indeed, I do."

The bard began to play a beautiful, tragic melody. The song, though without words, told the story of a young man at war. The bard poured such feeling into the music, his face contorting slightly as the the young man left his bride-to-be never to return. The pace quickened as he went off to the war, and to the hardships. Then suddenly one violent chord and all was silent for a few seconds. Sad trickling notes played softly like rain falling on his dead body.

The bard glanced up at Trillian as he finished.

[mctrillian.livejournal.com]

Grinning still, Trillian breaks into contented applause.

"That was really quite beautiful! And moving, except I'm never really very good at feeling moved for very long, hence why I'm clapping instead of being all teary. But it's absolutely beautiful."

[forsaken-bard.livejournal.com]

Asmodean gave a graceful bow, despite the harp. The bard chuckled slightly.

He paused for a moment and glanced around at the dance floor. He slowly set down the harp, and gestured to it. His eyes filled with flames, emanations of the power of Saidin. Slowly, the harp began to play a rather beautiful, if a touch sad dance.

"Would you mind one of those experiences be dancing?"

He stretched out his hand.

If Trillian were to take him up on his offer to dance, she would find the bard to be an immensely skilled dancer, moving with a stately, and deadly grace. He would give the feeling of immense, gentle strength, like a strong man holding a tiny infant.

[mctrillian.livejournal.com]

Trillian is really rather fond of dancing herself, and smiles a bit shyly. But not too shyly or in a sincerely shy way, because a shy Trillian isn't a Trillian at all.

"Of course not. And the strange thing," Trillian says, taking the bard's hand, "is that dancing really is, well, moving."

[forsaken-bard.livejournal.com]

The bard smiles as he dances. The bard moves with the practiced grace of a man who has been doing this for centuries.

"Both literally, and metaphorically, Lady Trillian?"

[mctrillian.livejournal.com]

"Moreso literally, but it is emotionally moving, in the way that ... things are, I guess it's some sort of zen, since usually my brain is more active than my feet, but now it's --" and here, Trillian shuts up as she tries to avoid stumbling just a little, not being exactly Queen Graceful, "-- well, obviously shut down a bit."

[forsaken-bard.livejournal.com]

Asmodean only smiled gently, still moving gracefully as ever.

"Enjoying a dance is a very natural thing."

[mctrillian.livejournal.com]

"It's probably a lot easier when you don't fall often, though," Trillian agrees. "Gravity still works, though."

[forsaken-bard.livejournal.com]

Asmodean considered for a moment, as he danced.

"This might be substantively different if gravity was not in effect, and do not worry, if you fall, I should be able to catch you."

He danced for a moment longer before the song ended. The bard finished the dance with a simple, slow twirl, careful to make sure that Trillian did not fall.

[mctrillian.livejournal.com]

"I should hope gravity is still present." Smiling, Trillian follows along to the end, and then claps very simply.

"... I haven't done that in a while."

[forsaken-bard.livejournal.com]

Asmodean smiled gracefully. His dark eyes suggest that he enjoyed the dance.

"A shame. Indulging in a dance once in a while is a lady's prerogative."

[mctrillian.livejournal.com]

"But this lady," Trillian inclines her head as to indicate herself, "spends far much more time repairing spaceships and doing experiments than revelling in more ladylike entertainment."

"So there," squeaks her pocket.

[forsaken-bard.livejournal.com]

Asmodean chuckled slightly. He glanced at her pocket but decided not to comment.

"You are a woman of the sciences, Lady Trillian?"

He paused.

"It has been many years since I studied such subjects."

[mctrillian.livejournal.com]

"I'm an astrophysicist, with a second masters in mathematics," Trillian replies simply.

Because it's not at all a big deal.

[forsaken-bard.livejournal.com]

Asmodean nodded. He seemed slightly impressed.

"An esteemed profession."

He paused.

"I would converse with you on the mechanics of such things, but it has been far too long."

Amazing what a few centuries would do to one's comprehension of formulas.

[mctrillian.livejournal.com]

"It's probably all changed a lot by now," Trillian shrugs. "Since we're from ... I'd say not exactly the same timeframe."

[forsaken-bard.livejournal.com]

Asmodean nodded. His dark eyes are calm.

"Yes, and the way you speak of things from Ages entirely, perhaps, even different worlds entirely."

[mctrillian.livejournal.com]

"Does yours," Trillian wonders, "have a name?"

[forsaken-bard.livejournal.com]

Asmodean shook his head.

"The world itself, no."

[mctrillian.livejournal.com]

"Mine doesn't really either, probably because I don't have one anymore."

Trillian shrugs nonchalantly.

"It exploded, if you hadn't heard."

[forsaken-bard.livejournal.com]

Asmodean looks somewhat surprised, and then rather bothered, and then a touch sympathetic.

"That is very unfortunate. I am sorry for your loss."

[mctrillian.livejournal.com]

"Arthur Dent and Zaphod Beeblebrox survived it, too, although technically I suppose Zaphod didn't, because he was never from there in the first place ..."

Trillian's train of thought chugs off into oblivion somewhere.