"No snacking," Mutti says as she smacks my hand, "You can wait."
I cannot wait. She made honey cakes and I want a honey cake. She even did that frosting for them. I am not a man to resist temptation at the best of time and I have no other options before me other than to snack. I reach forward again, but Mutti raises the wooden spoon in a battle-ready position. Wisely, I retreat. There are some smoked sausages over there that would be a much better target. They're already cut up, so it'll be harder to take inventory later. I'm a genius. I also have sore knuckles as she whips around and catches me. I regret nothing other than the fact that I was caught. I sit back down and keep my hands to myself. I will be a good boy now, because that is what I'm supposed to be. The shadows slink behind me, and I have a small bit of cheese before me. Not the best, but I'll take it. The shadows shift and tun and Gawain goes back to wrapping the sandwiches without a word.
"Are you sure we're going to be good without wine or something," Eliza asks. She's in charge of the deviled eggs, filling them with a gentle touch I wasn't aware she had. They look good, with a slight swirl of the filling and dusting of pepper.
"Yep," Mutti replies, sliding another full sandwich across the table, "Any responsible guests will bring a gift. If they don't then they don't deserve it.
"Never been to a picnic without wine," Gerardine says, "Kind of feels like it needs it." She's finishing off the last of the honey cakes and we're more or less done. I feel somewhat useless, but that's kind of what I'm used to. I'm told I'm in charge of the music once we've started, so there's that. Everyone else gets to enjoy the picnic to their heart's content, but I have to work. Terrible little arrangement, but I can't fight it. I think I have earned a bit of presnacking for my future efforts. Time is a bit of a fickle thing, where the earnedness of current actions can come from future events, in my opinion.
I sneak my hands back to the stack of honey cakes in a desperate attempt for something sweet. One more rap across the knuckles and it's from Gerardine. She takes a bit too much pleasure from it.
There's a nervousness in my stomach and it drips down my legs. I can't sit still. My foot keeps tapping and shaking, rocking the whole house. No one pretends to notice. Or they might not, preoccupied as they are. Gawain looks at me with concern. He's done with the sandwiches and he's just waiting for the last of the eggs and cakes. The waiting doesn't make him nervous. If anything, I think it suits him better. He just wants to cuddle and snuggle, and I am thinking about taking him back to my room while everyone else works. No one can stop me.
"Jackalope," Mutti sighs, "Go fetch a blanket from the closet. There should be one big enough on the bottom shelf."
I huff and pout but do as I'm told once Eliza glances at me. She's having fun, surprisingly. Never thought she'd take to the culinary arts, but I'm interested to see where she ends up. Sauces and stews and pastries and probably something really fancy once she gets the proper space for it. Might just be wishful thinking on my part, but I trust her in the kitchen more than me. She has more experience with sharp things. The blankets are indeed where they should be, all washed and neat and folded. From what I know, their collective tenure as fort walls and ramparts are long behind them. I pick a nice red checkered one with fringes and tassels.
Gerardine is wiping her hands and now it's all over. Everything is set up and ready. My guitar is all strung and shined and polished. My new jacket is hanging up on the hook by the door. It looks happy there. It belongs there, next to Mutti's shawl. And Maman's cloak. Didn't notice that, but I don't know why anyone would put it away. There are no better places for cloaks than hooks by the door. My bandana is there too. It works, in my opinion. Think I might use it as a cravat or something like that. My hair's gotten long enough to style and braid or just hang loose. Really should have put more effort into ideas for my appearance. Now I have to scramble. It'll be fine.
---
It is fine. More or less. Didn't account for the wind and that certainly messes with the image.
"Kind of cold for a picnic," I mutter.
"Oh shush," Mutti says, "It'll be fine. It'll warm up by the time we sit down. Might even be nice enough to swim."
I look out to the water. There are chunks of ice in there. I don't think anything can swim in there. Even the fishes and the whales and all the things that supposedly like the cold would move south. Hard to swim in ice. Not even possible as far as I know. I'm right. Gawain and Eliza agree. They don't say anything, but the way he is pressing into me and shivering, I think that speaks for itself. Eliza's teeth are chattering, but that's partly her fault. Still nothing underneath and the wind is not kind to flowing capes. Gerardine seems fine and I don't know how. She's not in with Gluhna and as far as I know, Soddal doesn't care for the cold in any significant capacity. So, it may just be her. She's crazy. She's insane. I don't like that fact about her. She should be cold and miserable like all of us. She just takes the basket and starts smoothing a plot out. I start rolling a log of driftwood in for a makeshift bench. I bet it can also weigh down the blanket. We need rocks too, but I'm having a tough time spotting those.
Mutti comes out and starts putting out dishes. A moment passes and they're already covered in sand. I didn't have the greatest hopes for this, and they've already been dashed. I don't want to bring anyone else down though. I have happy songs to play with shrill strings. I think I can make it work. It takes a moment to get the strings up. They liked the sleep they were getting. I feel terrible. They deserved more rest.
My fingers need moment as well. The knuckles and joints crack and pop. It's nice, that bit of free tension. It's good. I am in my element. I shiver. My element is cold, and I have some issues with that. I didn't choose any of it. I feel like I should have had some agency in that. My wanted element is warm and soft and in a bed with many other people. I may or may not have clothes on. That particular fact depends on a multitude of factors. I'm not sure what they are, but that's the cold talking. Can't focus. Part nerves, part cold, part Gawain sidling next to me and using my coat as a wind break. I play the first thing that comes to mind.
"Gummed up, brain dead and can't decide.
You can't pray enough, you can't hide.
You can be cool, or you can cry," I sing. Not sure where the words came from, but it works. Slow bounce and it flows easy enough. Definitely better on a piano or something, but my guitar works. Could use some horns in the background, but I am struggling to think of a tune that wouldn't be improved by that. Everything needs horns and bass and enough percussion to deafen an elephant. Not that hard with their big ears, now that I think about it. Analogy is breaking down and that's fine. I can play with nonsense so long as it flows down my arms and through my fingers.
Gawain's swaying to the music and that makes me happy. He likes the music. I crack open my eyes and Eliza's nodding along. Mutti is a bit more into it and Gerardine is begrudgingly tapping a singular toe.
"I hate to admit it," Mutti sighs, "But I think you might be a better guitarist than me."
