[ 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? ]
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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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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