Picnics

Picnics, as a rule, should never be planned events.  You should wake up in the morning, discovering that it is a fine day outside.  Sauntering over to the kitchen, you muse upon the fact that, after all, life is too short to spend so much time under planks and shingles, eating your meals of the desiccated corpse of a tree.  Then, you pack your basket, set off for a favored spot, and take your feast al fresco.

So, at any rate, was Conrad's explanation for why he and Zephyre were disembarking about 20 miles from the city limits, at a lakeside park right about where a forest faded into scrub and meadow.  Not that she minded much.

"Aw, thanks Conrad.  I really did need to go hunting pretty soon."  She grinned back at him, her three tails twitching in excitement.  A stray bit of the sun glinted off her elongated fangs, in a way quite literally dazzling, as far as Conrad was concerned.

"You're welcome!  I'm rather glad you're not the sort that burns in the sunlight."  He responded with a grin of his own.  His smile had only one fang on the left, which gave him a rather weird look.  Not just because of the asymmetry, either; Conrad was, by appearance, a cross between a mouse and a jackrabbit, both herbivorous and not known for possessing canines of any sort.

Zephyre, herself a harmonious blend of the vulpine and the feline, pressed her lips together ruefully, but her eyes were still smiling.  "Well, I would have preferred to do this by moonlight, but hey!  If Amun-ra's feeling generous, I won't spurn him.  He really has outdone himself today."

The pair made their way along the edge of the woods to the bank of lake Belvoir, Zephyre sniffing the air for local wildlife and Conrad carrying along his own lunch in a basket.  Along with this was also packed an empty wine bottle, which he handed over to his partner.

"You know, love, I generally prefer these when they're full.  Why'd you bring an empty one?"

"It's for your lunch.  I wasn't the only one struck with the idea of a picnic," Indeed, other couples and families were beginning to gather along the banks of the lake. "If you were to drag, say, a deer carcass over to the picnic blanket and drink the blood fresh, it might attract attention.  I can't say, but it might."  Conrad deadpanned.

Zeph smirked in acknowledgment of the joke, shifting her grip on the bottle as she prepared to stalk off.  "And what, pray, would you do if some snooty wine-taster asks about the vintage?"

Conrad appeared to ponder this conundrum for a few seconds, before breaking out in a wide smile.  "Why, I'd let him sample it!  Then, while he sputters and chokes I shall recite certain facts about the Bordeaux vineyards in an aloof tone of voice, capping off by saying that he couldn't tell a good vintage from yesterday's bathwater."

That managed to get Zephyre to laugh out loud, and giving him a playful slap in parting, she set off in search of prey.  Conrad, meanwhile, busied himself in setting up the blanket on a promising spot, shaded by one of the few elms in the country that disease had not wasted.  His own repast consisted of whatever fruit that hadn't bruised in the fridge, pale unlabeled cheese (deceptively sharp cheddar, as it turned out), half a baguette not yet stale, and cole slaw.

Not for the first time, he mused on the dietary contrast presented by him and his beloved.  Zephyre took the classic vampire approach, with an added care for the innocent bystander, while he, a half-vampire himself, didn't even touch red meat, raw or cooked.

The long and short of it was that it took planning to have their meals together.  Conrad contemplated a future in which every dinner would probably count as a date.  *With the added complication of having to deal with the carcasses.  You just don't think about these things at first.  Who knew logistics was such an important part of a relationship?  Still, if I couldn't blend the macabre with the romantic, I'd have no business being with a vampire.*
He smiled, thinking back to the first time he'd accompanied Zephyre while she hunted squirrels.  He almost fancied he could hear that hypnotizing tune she'd sang, being carried on the wind…


It wasn't too long before she returned, bearing a mostly full bottle.  It would have been completely full, except the excess seemed spattered on her arms.  Conrad sucked in a breath through his teeth.  "Ooh.  Did the deer give you trouble?"

Zephyre sat down, rubbing at the stains with a napkin.  "Oh, the deer was perfectly alright.  You, on the other hand, forgot to give me a funnel."

"Oh.  Sorry."  The hybrid flushed with embarrassment.  Zephyre let him stew a while before relieving his anxiety with a smile.  

"It's alright, love, I've had messier feedings.  I only hope the carcass won't give us trouble, I had to leave it where it was."
"I shouldn't think so," He replied, bringing out a wine glass.  "They're in season."

She giggled as she poured out her lunch into her glass, draining it in a swallow and doling out a refill before speaking again.  "Feels a little weird drinking it like this again.  I didn't used to have to hunt for blood, back at my village; the priestesses got offerings, and there were farms set up for royalty.  Sometimes they brought the prey to the table, but they mostly served it in glasses."  She took another sip, before conscientiously offering the cup to Conrad.  He waved it away, his mouth already full of bread and cheese.  Zephyre shook her head in amazement.  "I really don't know how you do it.  A man of vampiric heritage, and a vegetarian!"

Conrad shrugged.  "Can't really take credit for it; it's pretty much for the same reason you're restricted to a liquid diet.  I don't have the enzymes for anything else.  Incidentally," He said, as he reached back into the basket, "If you feel the need for variety…" He produced a chilled bottle of Pinot Grigio, along with two extra glasses.

Zephyre laughed, "Aw, thanks.  A girl always appreciates variety!"



The pair lunched companionably as the afternoon wore on.  The sun hadn't set, but the moon was reminding the people below that it was always overhead, even now.  Conversation spread and wandered in that luxuriant manner it does when no one is in any kind of hurry.

Most of the bottle of red had been finished by now, and significant inroads had been made into the bottle of white.  Conrad was resting back on his right elbow, his left arm around Zephyre as she leaned into the crook of his shoulder.  He'd noticed that she'd trailed off speaking in the past minute or so, and when he followed her gaze, he knew why.

Further along the banks, other picnicking families had by now finished their meals, and their children were playing together by the lake.  Conrad could hear them indistinctly from where he was, and he knew Zephyre could too.

"Thinking about them?"  He whispered into her ear, and he could feel her nod.  He knew where thoughts were now; with two children who were not with them.

"The twins would have liked this.  I don't think they ever got much chance to get out."  Zephyre murmured in a melancholy way, saddened that she couldn't even say for certain.  They'd had so little time together…

Conrad was known for always having a ready word, but he frankly confessed to himself that he felt tongue-tied here.  What could you say to a grieving mother that didn't sound trite or stupid?  It was arguably his fault-

"No it wasn't."  Conrad looked down in surprise, to find Zeph looking up at him, and reaching up to stroke his face.  "You mustn't think that."

"How did you-"

"You're not difficult to read, love.  You wear your soul on your skin."  She managed to smile, a bit.  "We're given tragedies, which nothing can prevent.  We can mourn, but don't let your doubts ruin your joys.  We may take the bitter and the sweet together, like the best vintages."

"Yes…" Conrad leaned down to kiss her, which he held for a few seconds before breaking off to look in her eyes.  "You've had to drain the bitterest dregs before you ever had a chance to taste the best, though."

"Hmm," She hummed, "And knowing you, Conrad, you'd probably march right into the hall of the gods, and demand it straight from the vineyards of Osiris."  A little bit of her smile began to return to her eyes, answered by the glimmerings of the hybrid's own.

"Yep."  He pulled her into a close embrace, whispering, "That's a promise."