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The ride had been kind of long, even with spells to speed it up. Or it'd seemed that way to Carlisle; they'd picked Casia up ridiculously early, since they had to be ready to go when the sun started to rise. With an apologetic smile, he'd attempted small talk but no one was much for chit-chat at three in the morning. Well, except Carlisle, whose opinion apparently counted for nothing. Still, around four, he tumbled out of the car after tapping Casia gently on the shoulder; in the pre-dawn stillness, it seemed a little weird to see everything lit by a soft red tone.

He straightened his sweater and jeans. This scene was familiar to him, and so the impressive vista didn't really phase him any longer; but, to the left, there was a mild-looking stream that led to a lake, supposedly, since they were no where near an ocean. A forest of ancient trees rose out of the small hillocks (populated with flowers in enough varied shades of color to deserve the term 'riotous', even in the near-dark) a few hundred yards ahead. People milled around- some of them looked normal enough, dressed warmly like Carlisle, but then there were some who were clothed in a shiny black carapace or had more than the average number of facial features or limbs. Not exactly nightmare fuel, but still rather strange if you weren't expecting it. Carlisle, apparently, was.

Gesturing for Casia to follow him, he led her away from the stranger folk, over to stand near a small table underneath a tree. "Do you want some coffee or something? I think Erinne has muffins. She's over there." He smiled, pointing out a girl with brown hair in a raincoat. "If you don't, we can go now, since we're the youngest." With an all-encompassing wave of his arm, he indicated the expanse before them. "As long as we don't go past the streams, there's really no limit..."

Pausing, he glanced back towards her. "It's up to you, though," he said.

If he'd known about Casia's worries, he would have immediately assured her that there were no blue meanies, nevermind that he didn't even know what they were. He just knew that he'd never seen anyone blue who was mean, which would preclude the existence of blue meanies, or so he would have supposed. Carlisle liked most of the people present, actually. "All right," he agreed, turning to the table. It was crowded with decanters, some labeled in English and others labeled in something like the runes that had been on the schematics Carlisle had given Casia for Jane on Monday. He went directly to the one labeled 'house'.

"There's all kinds of flavors and stuff," he said vaguely, "But the regular kind is always the best, and that way you're sure no one's messed with it because the flavor's kind of distinctive, you know?" He never actually worried about someone messing with his food, but he had been told to tell this to Casia on account of her guardian (mother? aunt?) and her seeming reluctance to be around magic. That was a shame, at least in Carlisle's opinon, because he'd grown up around magic and it made life, well, magical. Nothing like watching his aunt pull a butterfly out of thin air, anyway, not to him.

He offered the first cup to Casia and shrugged, saying, "Maybe I should explain how it works first, or something? If you haven't been maying before, you might not know what to do..." He smiled back, but wondered what she was thanking him for. Wasn't like he'd done anything yet...

He laughed, but not unkindly. It was more a 'i was sort of expecting that' kind of laugh, and he was cheerful about it. "I know, it's hard to get used to, right?" Carlisle tossed his hair, oblivious as to how feminine it made him look; he'd braid it in a minute, of course, since having it falling everywhere in his eyes would be inconvenient whilst bounding through tall grass. "I'm still not used to it yet but it keeps you awake and stuff."

After her answer, he wandered over to the tree and sat beneath it, right on the roots so as not to get wet. Dew was still condensing; the sky off to their left was turning pink with the sunrise. "Well, May Day is the first day of spring, traditionally, at least in the family," he said, then he realized he was rambling so he stopped. Took a deep breath, and continued: "Anyway. You get a basket, and you go out to fill the basket. The dew when you may is supposed to have youth-restoring properties."

(He decided not to mention that it actually did have those properties. She seemed kind of jumpy about magic, after all.)

"There's all kinds of weird traditions, but most of them are for guys, except for the crowning of the May queen, but that happens on the first of May, so you don't have to worry about it; we're too young to vote, anyway. Actually, you'd be competing, wouldn't you? You're really pretty, I bet you would win-"

He thought that maybe now would be a good time to shut up, so he did.

Carlisle was definitely not an old man. An old man would be able to read! Or so he would have hoped, anyway. (It was probably a good thing that Casia hadn't said that aloud, at any rate.)

He was already bright red when she first blushed, and pale enough that it looked rather like he was glowing more than he already did. After a minute, he smiled in a strained way and then stood, offering his hand. "You want to start? I'll go get the baskets and everything if you do."

Looking around, he pulled a red hair tie from around his wrist- the black marks on his fingers were conspicuously absent, presumably gone because of Jane's advice - and started braiding his hair like it was the most important thing in the world. It didn't cross his mind that he might look... bratty, or something. He just needed something to distract himself from saying dumb things to his friends.

"Ah, it's almost dawn," he said quickly as he tied off the end of the braid. "We could go now?"

"Sorry," he said, "I don't like it when my hair gets in my eyes." He hadn't noticed her trying to braid her hair; he probably would have only been mildly confused (and amused) if he had. Now that his own hair was out of the way, he looked around and strode off to grab the necessary items.

When he returned and Casia asked her question, he dropped the basket he had been holding out to her. A startled and highly confused laugh followed as he bent down to grab the metal handle; it was woven about with ribbons in bright, gay colors and tied with complex knots. Both of them, in fact, were more woven of thread than of reeds, but he didn't seem fazed by it. "Only if you want to," he said, trying to maintain a wide-eyed innocence but the fact that he had punctuated it with another laugh made it clear he was just kidding.

He pointed out towards the treeline, kicking off his shoes and saying, "This way," and suiting action to words, hands linked together behind him. As Carlisle entered the tall grass, it became obvious why he had kicked off the buckled shoes; already the material of his pants looked soaked. Doubtless he would have lost them anyway. "We're looking for lilies of the valley," he said, "once you've found one of those all the flowers are fair game."