Lá Bealtaine [open thread, come one come all]

[Damon]

Calden is over by the table. Or at least near it. After asking around a bit -- he's brought an uncooked, spiced haunch of elk, after all -- someone's pointed him at a cooking pit with some spare room. Someone's found a usable roasting rack to put over it. Grimacing at the smoke and the heat, Calden crouches down to tear a small vent-hole in the foil wrap, and then heaves the entire haunch of elk over the fire. Almost immediately, the scent of heating herbs and spices begins to waft up, but it'll be a couple hours before it's ready.

Which is fine with him. This isn't his first Beltane shindig. These things go all night and sometimes half the day after, and people will get hungry at the oddest hours. They definitely don't stay PG-rated either, but he imagines the kids will be ushered off to nap in the farmhouse or something when things get a little more ... unhinged.

Dusting his hands off on the seat of his jeans, Calden stands up. There's already an impressive array of food and drink laid out. There's a young woman deliberating over the choices and Calden, making an effort to not let his dad get under his skin and ruin the night for him, calls out to her.

"Stay away from the haggis," he says. "I'm Fianna through and through, and I don't even touch that stuff."