For a Song Pt. 12

"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."

I stop playing. That can't be. That is a lie. She is the best and whatever skill I have pales in comparison to that.

"Oh, just shut up and take the compliment," she sighs, "I'm still a better singer. That's never going to change."

I start playing again, very conscious of the noises from my throat. I don't make any of them at this moment. I am just plucking the strings and letting the tune carry itself. I am used to the cold by now. Mostly because Gawain is acting as my heater and Eliza as my wind break. Can't have the entertainment get all cold and chilly. Wouldn't be much of a picnic without a guy and his guitar. Eliza starts playing a terrible game where she dangles a sandwich just above my head. I have to reach up and grab it like a fish on a line, but it's just out of reach. Maybe. I can't use my arms because that would stop the music. Gawain is too busy laughing is cute little ass off to help me. Mutti and Gerardine are watching the water, putting on the pretense of being alert. They are doing a good job of pretending though. Not even a sideways glance towards the food in the basket.

Mutti starts humming and that's good. The music needed words and she's slowly getting there. Just like fingers, the throat needs a good warm up. She's doing it and Gerardine's got an odd look on her face. We shouldn't be having fun, but we are dangerously close to doing that. I'm smiling. Eliza is trying not to smile, but the meat of the sandwich slips out and lands on my face. I stop playing. Everyone laughs at me, including myself. Eliza is to blame, and she will have her punishment later. I slowly work the ham into my mouth and let her clean me up. Her fault, so it's her responsibility.

I am back to playing and everything is all worked up and limber. I'm playing faster and Mutti seems to like that. She likes fast songs and slow songs and pretty much every kind of song except love. She had enough of that in her life, so singing about it just seemed excessive, I guess. Like the odd cloying film on the tongue after too many sweets. The sorrow gives the rest texture and contrast and wonderful clarity, like a salted caramel. Good philosophy, but this is all a picnic, so we need to be happy. That mixes well with love, I think, and we are getting there. The wind is dying down and the sun is peeking from behind the clouds. It is turning into a good day. The sea has a good level of chip, not too calm, not too rough. I think I could go for a swim in a bit. A chunk of ice washes up and I think I will pass. There are more songs to sing and more food to eat and I really, really need something to drink. My throat is dry, and I would like to be drunk.

Something thonks on the crown of my head. A bottle, if I had to guess. And bottles usually have wine in them. I could open them and drink them, and everything would be great.

"I'm so sorry about that bit of trouble my girl caused you in the Sepia," sighs a bubbly voice, slurred and loose and sloshing.

I feel a pair of breasts, almost the size of Eliza's, squish around my neck. They are definitely softer, but I think I still prefer the more familiar pair. I smell sweet wine waft through the air and intoxicate my playing. I am getting looser with the timing, but I think it still works. Eliza's getting flushed and I think she's an angry drunk. Her arms snake over and pull me close. I am not for the stranger. I am already taken. Something kisses to top of my head and a loving hand traces the base of my horn. I'm glad I sharpened it this morning. Finally.

The weight leaves and I see a woman pour around me before collapsing. What I felt was correct. She does have a very, very big chest that spills and bounces and does so many wonderful things. That's nothing compared to the rest of her, all soft and bouncy and sloshing. Starlight pale hair flowing like silk, and she pulls a bottle of wine from somewhere and sets it next to the basket. I'm staring. She knows I'm staring. She moves her shirt and lets me stare more. Eliza pulls me closer, and I stare somewhere else. I keep playing. That's what I'm here for and that's all I need to do.

"Gluhna," Mutti sighs, "Good to see you, but please have some decency. My son is way too young for you."

The music hitches, but I work through it. I knew, but still, to hear it spelled out so plainly is always a bit of a shock. Those times when Cout stared me down from across the way, when Treblex rummaged through my things, when Maman showed up, always had a way of sending a shiver down my spine. I am face to face with the world beyond the pale and it is trying to seduce me. I am not that hard to seduce, but still. It's a bit of a step down the line.

"Oh please," she says, "Age is just a number. And cut me some slack. My age has a comma in it. Do you know how small the dating pool is at that age? My best bets are a coroner and a bird."

"I'm a damn fine catch and you know it," Cout drawls in, a trail of smoke coming from his lips. He drops his cigarette and crushes it under his heel.

"Son, good to see you again like this," he continues as he rolls a fresh one, "And Miss Holioke, I believe I owe you a good conversation. I would have done it sooner, but you've been keeping me busy."

For once, I think Eliza is intimidated. Her face doesn't carry the slight grimace when a threat appears, and she's not quite stone faced enough for the moment. Her eyes go wide and her grip on me tightens. I think she intends to throw me in front of him, as if that would stop the momentum. I can't win against that. I can't even win against the sloven drunk spilling out of her shirt.

"Would you mind turning down the ice storm," Cout says, "This isn't a good time for a picnic."

"No can do, big guy," Gluhna giggles, "Not how I work. Not how any of us work."

"Can't blame a fella for trying. Finchwing's on her way. Don't know about Soddal and Vermil."

"That's fine," Mutti says, "Our uninvited guests have to wait for the tide, so we got time. Jackalope, do you want some wine? No way I'm doing any of this sober."

"That a girl," Gluhna slurs.

I nod and the work begins. The cork opens with a delightful pop and the cups fill with a wonderful babble. Gawain takes it on himself to make me drink and in some rather beautiful bit of coordination, none of it spills down my front. He takes a sip and passes it around. Eliza takes more than her fair share, but I'm not counting. The bottle has filled more glasses than it should, so I think there's a fair bit of shenanigans going on with that.

"Cold," shivers Treblex. She's perched on my log, but not for long. She scampers up to my shoulders and starts worming through my clothes. I finally break. I stand and dance to a song of claw and scales. Gluhna's howling. Cout's chuckling. Mutti is cackling. Gawain's giggling and Eliza is just plain laughing at me. I catch Treblex under my left arm and hoist her by the tail.

"Cold," she chatters again, just in case I missed it the first time.

"Miss Gluhna," I say, "Are you sure there's nothing you can do about the cold? Treblex here can get kind of... crabby when she's cold."

To demonstrate my point, she tries to bite my nose. She does not succeed, but she does wriggle around rather effectively. I drop her and she scampers down to Mutti. Without so much as a mote of protest, she lifts her skirt and the lizard chambers into warmth and love and wonderful darkness.

"Same answer," Gluhna giggles, "But y'know you could always, like, start a fire. I hear those are pretty warm."

She does have a point, but we don't have any firewood. Really, this entire ordeal was rather shoddily put together. Whoever was in charge of planning this really didn't think it through. I sigh and go back to playing. It is warming up anyway. The sun is out in full and honestly, it's kind of nice out. Nothing so grand as a balmy summer's day, but novel enough for a cold weather picnic. Or it could just be the wine.

A bird flutters overhead. The clouds part in its wake. Each break of its wings brings more and more sun. Blinding, it is blinding. I forgot how brilliant the sun could be. I shiver and I am not cold anymore. The bird circles overhead one more time and finally we have a good day on our hands. Finchwing circles one more time before diving headfirst down to our little party. I flinch a bit. She's decided that she wants to be big this time and I can't help but listen to the voice in my head that says it's a threat. The three pairs of eyes and the glittering death wings don't help the image. She's silent, staring me down as I shrink away to nothing.

"Good," Mutti sighs, Treblex poking her head through her cleavage, "That's the short list. Got a couple more coming, but they'll be late as always. Tides' turning, so I think we should prepare for the others. More wine, anyone?"

Gluhna's hand goes up and I put my order in. I see a ship on the horizon, and there is something to be said about not doing any of this sober.

---

I'm three glasses in on the strongest wine I think can exist. I've had liquor that didn't hit as hard. But it loosens my fingers, and I am playing so beautifully out of control. I'm not sure if anything I make is a song at this point. It is nice though. And no one complains. If anything, it makes the day so wonderful. Gluhna's dancing under the care of Finchwing. Her hands are up and I'm pretty sure her top's going to come off at some point. That's almost an inevitability. Eliza would get competitive and take me back to the house and do terrible things to me. Gawain's off playing with Treblex, baiting her with piece of seaweed. The ship is getting closer and closer with every passing minute. The docks are down a way to the south, so there's a good chance they'll have a good walk as well. Walks are always a good thing to have. Bracing.

Mutti has her turn with the guitar. She's good. She's always been good. She'll always be good. I don't think there's anything else she can be. Even without her arms, she'll still sing like a chorus of songbirds caged and clipped. She likes sad things, and this is no different. Good sad. It's nice. I like being this kind of sad. I get to hold Eliza close, and she holds me close and everything is close. I could go for more sandwich, and I think that can be arranged, once the new people come ashore. They just launched the landing boats and they're working on it. I wish they would hurry up.

Eliza's getting antsy. She wants her scythe. She wants a sword. She wants anything sharp and pointy to help her stay safe. There are so many things that wish pain and hurt on her and use. And she can't do anything without her tools. The plan doesn't involve violence, so how can it be a good plan? It's not a plan she knows. I tap her shoulders in time with the music. It helps, I think. Me, at least. She taps back and it helps her as well. The sharp stick on the log also helps.

The boats land. The music does not stop. It slows for a moment, as Mutti finds something to suit the mood.

"Upon grass, out of luck,

it's just our usual stuff and all.

But where have your footsteps gone?

What am I doing here?" she sings. The sorrow washes over me in a complete and crushing wave. I feel a tear streak down my face. Eliza holds me tight. She holds me to her chest, and I hear her heartbeat quicken and break. Gawain crawls over to me and lets his head fall on my shoulder. I snake my arm around him and pull him into the hug. The courtesy is extended to him and we'll wallow in our wonderful pity.

"I hate when you do that," I sigh.

"Yeah, but it's fun for me," Mutti says.

"Sad," hums Treblex. Her scales shimmer and turn a deep abyssal blue for a moment, before coming back to black.

The landing party staggers as the wave hits them, but they are prepared. They march and they walk and they rattle the sabers they are supposed to. I reach for the wine. There's company and they need drinks. It's only polite. They've probably had a long voyage and they deserve as much hospitality as I can tolerate giving them.

It's a company in full regalia. Shiny arms, flowing silks, the proverbial knot of threads embossed on the metal. All prim and proper and ram rod straight. There's another set of boats coming, so I think we're dealing with about double what we have right now. The numbers are not in our favor. Oh well. How terrible. We are unprepared for such a calamity. My hands snake over and cop a feel. Eliza swats my hand away. That's fair. She's not sad anymore. She's not thinking about the oncoming violence. She's mad at me, so she is in her right mind. They march. It starts something in my companions. They know the beat and the rules. They know where each step will lead. They are coming closer and closer. I break away and pour the wine. Definitely something odd with the bottle. IT feels heavier than it should. Even when I spill it, it doesn't run out. This is a good bottle. I think the vintage and what not are below par, but anything infinite is amazing.