[ Preparations are in full swing right after breakfast - although still seemingly unstaffed, the kitchen is a flurry of activity and careless guests may find themselves bumped into if they venture too far into the actual cooking area.
It's safer outside, where guests are encouraged to help dress the maypole with fresh cut, leafy birch twigs and a variety of colourful, seasonal flowers - ox-eye daisies, woodland geraniums, cow parsley, buttercups and lupines. There's also a table and benches to carry out into the community center garden, lanterns to hang in the fruit trees and bottles and bottles of elderflower lemonade, beer and brännvin - midsommar isn't midsommar without snaps.
A little later in the afternoon, with the tables laden heavy with pickled herring, fresh potatoes, sour cream and chives, and Västerbotten cheese pie (and a few other less traditional but perhaps more palatable dishes), guests and residents alike sit down for the midsummer celebration. If anyone wants to partake in local customs such as the little frog dance, Ingvar is more than happy to provide the music. Of course, he's just as happy to teach a few drinking songs for those who want to partake in snaps. ]
Evening
[ As the sun begins to... well, not exactly set, but take a dip towards the horizon, the long table will be cleared for dessert - coffee or tea, strawberries and cream, with the option of an aperitif of your choice. The music will continue with traditional songs, that the residents are more than happy to try and teach the guests - or just sing poorly, as is tradition.
For those who are looking for something a bit more quiet and peaceful, Valborg is spending the evening talking about the magic properties of midsummers eve, the most magical of nights. It says that if you pick seven different types of flowers in complete silence and then sleep with them under your pillow, you'll dream of your future betrothed... ]
Night
[ Those who stay out late will quickly notice that the sun doesn't exactly set tonight. You don't need much light to guide your way back to the cabins. However, as you make your way through a wooded area, you might get the sensation that you're being... watched. Like there's someone following you in the shadows. Surely that's just your eyes playing tricks on you... right? ]
She smiled at him sympathetically. Martha wasn't sure what was going on in his life and she doubted he would tell her. But she could read between the lines and knew there was something there. She knocked her glass against his.
"Good and welcome, and I say we enjoy every bit of it. I expect a dance out of you before I get too drunk to manage it."
Given a while (or enough alcohol) he might well confide in her, as he'd become accustomed to doing the last time they were together - or at least, the last time he was with a version of her. But probably not tonight.
Tonight, he really was doing his best to forget all about his woes, and the Snaps was definitely helping with that. Having Martha with him, happy and cheerful, was definitely helping too.
"I'm up for a dance!" he professed, draining his glass again and only losing his balance a tiny bit as he stood up. He wasn't drunk, yet, but he certainly had a very pleasant warm glow starting inside him.
"Well, as long as it's not that weird frog thing. I'm nowhere near drunk enough for that yet!"
Martha grimaced. She had seen the frog thing and it was way beyond anything she was willing to try. "Definitely no frog dancing. Not drunk enough nor coordinated enough."
She stood as well, feeling her head start to swim. It had been a while since she had this much to drink. Did she have that much to drink? She didn't really remember. Everything was bit fuzzy.
But look! There's there was the maypole, still up and functional. She grabbed Jack's hand and dragged him towards it. "This at lease we can do..." Maybe.
They were kind of in the middle of having too much to drink. At just the right point, enjoying the pleasant buzz and slight lack of inhibitions (not that Jack really had any anyway) but not yet heading out of control.
He let her grab and drag him, laughing with pure, uncomplicated enjoyment, and squinted up at the maypole, now covered in leaves and flowers thanks to the efforts of some of the residents earlier in the day.
"Good thing it's got all those plants on it or I'd think you were suggesting pole dancing!" he grinned, taking her in his arms instead for something approximating the couple dance he'd seen some of the locals performing for them earlier.
((OOC: I'm thinking something like this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KGvU1_7cuYA - which, interestingly, is a dance I think I've actually done! My mum used to teach European folk dancing, and I still do it, every Saturday morning. :-) ))
"Oh hush!" Martha said as she too squinted at the pole. "That's for later after I have at least three more drinks." It wasn't fully clear how serious she was, though her grin suggested more sarcasm than not.
That dance itself shouldn't be as tricky as it was. After all, it was fairly simple. Or it would be if she had her full faculties. Martha didn't mind though as she giggled her way through the set. When was the last time she did something like this?
[FUN! I know a couple of 18th century English dances from reenacting, but those are all in lines with far less touching...]
He laughed. "I might hold you to that!" he said with a wink, as he started them dancing to Ingvar's latest tune. Once upon a time he'd been trained in all sorts of dancing, and for some periods he'd had to visit that had meant folk dancing, so he had some idea how it went and hopped about merrily and pivoted Martha round and round until they were both dizzy and breathless and laughing.
When the tune ended, he gave her a little bow, still holding onto her with one hand as much for his own balance as hers, and then led her back to the drinks, chuckling.
Martha merely laughed. A pole dance was entirely out of the question. She was still aware enough to realize that would end very badly indeed.
She let him lead her through the dance, giggling harder at each fumble and misstep. Why didn't she do fun things like this back home? Life would be so much... so much... the word was gone. But she wanted more of this.
The music stopped and she attempted a clumsy curtsy to his bow. Her eyes flashed with merriment. "It was brilliant!" she exclaimed as they made their way back to the drinks. She picked up a new bottle of something and brought it to the circle where others were singing so she and Jack could partake in both the singing and the drinking.
Jack had always been under the impression that Martha didn't have nearly enough fun in her life, she was so busy running around saving people and looking after her family. Which was why he was so glad she'd come here, where she didn't really have a choice but to relax and do things just for herself.
And this was a side to her that he very much enjoyed seeing. Laughing gaily, he picked a couple of glasses and followed her to the gathering, holding out both glasses to her to fill from the bottle she'd swiped. He hummed along with the tune as best he could, and downed his shot at the end of it along with everybody else, gasping pleasurably at the burn of it.
"Have you got any idea what this song is about?" he asked Martha sotto voce beneath the next iteration of it.
Of course, fun could easily tip into recklessness, and the way Martha was drinking, that was a distinct possibility. She had let all her inhibitions down, which wasn't a bad thing in moderation.
She cozied up closer to Jack, matching him drink for drink and attempting to sing along with the songs, though her tongue did get rather twisted with the attempts to sing in Swedish.
Martha leaned in even closer when he whispered to her. "No idea," she answered back, "though I'm sure it's something coarse and rude. Isn't that what most drinking songs are?"
"Of course it does," she replied with a shake of her head. And of course he would know that. She grinned at him as the song ended and leaned over to plant a sloppy kiss on his cheek.
He smiled at her kiss, rather touched. Even if he knew it was largely alcohol-fuelled, the tenderness and affection of it still felt good.
He slid his arm around her shoulders, pulling her against him, and let out a long breath, smiling round at the scene, a rare moment of contentment that he hadn't felt in far too long.
"Best Midsummer ever," he agreed softly, leaning his cheek against her hair.
[OOC: Seems a good place to end this. But I see there's medieval fest and I think Martha's going to do some arm wrestling, pillow fighting, and then drunken shenanigans over there if Jack wants in on any of it.]
((Glad we're on the same page. My kid is upstairs pulling every book off her bookshelf and "reading" each one, so I seem to be in the same boat of writing a tag.))
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GOD I'M SO OUT OF PRACTICE WITH THIS WHOLE RP THING
"Good and welcome, and I say we enjoy every bit of it. I expect a dance out of you before I get too drunk to manage it."
Aww, you're doing fine! Nice to see you back :-)
Tonight, he really was doing his best to forget all about his woes, and the Snaps was definitely helping with that. Having Martha with him, happy and cheerful, was definitely helping too.
"I'm up for a dance!" he professed, draining his glass again and only losing his balance a tiny bit as he stood up. He wasn't drunk, yet, but he certainly had a very pleasant warm glow starting inside him.
"Well, as long as it's not that weird frog thing. I'm nowhere near drunk enough for that yet!"
Thanks.
She stood as well, feeling her head start to swim. It had been a while since she had this much to drink. Did she have that much to drink? She didn't really remember. Everything was bit fuzzy.
But look! There's there was the maypole, still up and functional. She grabbed Jack's hand and dragged him towards it. "This at lease we can do..." Maybe.
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He let her grab and drag him, laughing with pure, uncomplicated enjoyment, and squinted up at the maypole, now covered in leaves and flowers thanks to the efforts of some of the residents earlier in the day.
"Good thing it's got all those plants on it or I'd think you were suggesting pole dancing!" he grinned, taking her in his arms instead for something approximating the couple dance he'd seen some of the locals performing for them earlier.
((OOC: I'm thinking something like this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KGvU1_7cuYA - which, interestingly, is a dance I think I've actually done! My mum used to teach European folk dancing, and I still do it, every Saturday morning. :-) ))
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That dance itself shouldn't be as tricky as it was. After all, it was fairly simple. Or it would be if she had her full faculties. Martha didn't mind though as she giggled her way through the set. When was the last time she did something like this?
[FUN! I know a couple of 18th century English dances from reenacting, but those are all in lines with far less touching...]
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When the tune ended, he gave her a little bow, still holding onto her with one hand as much for his own balance as hers, and then led her back to the drinks, chuckling.
"Oh, that was fun!"
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She let him lead her through the dance, giggling harder at each fumble and misstep. Why didn't she do fun things like this back home? Life would be so much... so much... the word was gone. But she wanted more of this.
The music stopped and she attempted a clumsy curtsy to his bow. Her eyes flashed with merriment. "It was brilliant!" she exclaimed as they made their way back to the drinks. She picked up a new bottle of something and brought it to the circle where others were singing so she and Jack could partake in both the singing and the drinking.
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And this was a side to her that he very much enjoyed seeing. Laughing gaily, he picked a couple of glasses and followed her to the gathering, holding out both glasses to her to fill from the bottle she'd swiped. He hummed along with the tune as best he could, and downed his shot at the end of it along with everybody else, gasping pleasurably at the burn of it.
"Have you got any idea what this song is about?" he asked Martha sotto voce beneath the next iteration of it.
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She cozied up closer to Jack, matching him drink for drink and attempting to sing along with the songs, though her tongue did get rather twisted with the attempts to sing in Swedish.
Martha leaned in even closer when he whispered to her. "No idea," she answered back, "though I'm sure it's something coarse and rude. Isn't that what most drinking songs are?"
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He cocked his head for a moment. "Although I'm pretty sure that word means penis..."
He might not know much Swedish, but he had slept with a few Scandinavians over the years, so certain words had naturally made it into his vocabulary!
He laughed again, raising his glass and downing it again as the singing paused again.
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"Best Midsummer ever."
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He smiled at her kiss, rather touched. Even if he knew it was largely alcohol-fuelled, the tenderness and affection of it still felt good.
He slid his arm around her shoulders, pulling her against him, and let out a long breath, smiling round at the scene, a rare moment of contentment that he hadn't felt in far too long.
"Best Midsummer ever," he agreed softly, leaning his cheek against her hair.
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