nexus_sages | made waves with some friends I know

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made waves with some friends I know

The season is a'changing, the weather is warmer. The forecast calls for high temperature, low humidity and a light breeze. A near perfect day. What better reason to gather the friends and have a good time with a bonfire? Grab a beer, have a seat. Cheery tunes fill the salty air. There's plenty of room and so much to eat.

Matt Murdock is actually dressed for the beach. Still likely more than usual. He burns so easily. There's no way he could have done this alone. Anyone who is anyone in Nexus knows that there is that distinct Verity Willis touch on everything. If the sounds and the sights don't get you, it is going to be whatever Clint has on the grill. That man is magic.

[ooc; Come on in, guys and gals! Hop threads, twist time for sooner, later and all things in between. It's a real party. Don't be shy!]

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Whole moments with out a worry. Who could have possibly known!? Not Brienne. The Seven have given her a wonderful gift in Frea. That's the only explanation she has.

Solid touch, and so real. How can it be so dream like at the same time? The way the light catches on her hair and the flowers seem more fresh and a live on her head. Oh her face could color all over again. Bother.

"It seems to be clear over here." Their structures are growing easier and stronger with each undertaking.

If Brienne is very good, she might get a whole day without worrying about anything more than what Frea's wearing. Wouldn't that be glorious? Truly, a divine gift.

There are reasons for the way Brienne is feeling, but would she believe them if she were told?

"Excellent choice." It gets easier with practice and teamwork. Sometimes their height difference even helps: Brienne can hold things up and Frea can do the low work. So, frame arranged, sheets draped and tied off, blanket spread... "Perfect. Thank you."

A whole day? The intervals have become longer and longer. It's like a dream, a song and all pleasant things beyond her touch at home. Which makes it more bitter when she finds that it's a place she misses. Nexus is beautiful, kind and safe.

Brienne has to warm up to new things. She would believe in time. For now feelings are on her so hard and fast if they were weapons she'd be dead.

Holding things, weight down, tying. "I like it very well myself." She stands back to examine their work. The wind is gentle and it holds well. Brienne slips her sword beneath the blankets. Just in case.

The Nexus is full of lovely things, but home is home. The desire to fit in burns hot in most people. There's no shame in it. But while she's here, in this safe place, Frea hopes to help Brienne learn to carry her worries without letting them control her.

All in her own good time.

"We make a good team." Since they'll be going swimming, that means Brienne will have to contend with Frea taking off that shift. First, though, she takes off her flower crown and hangs it from one corner of their tent, treating it gently and making sure it's secure. The handful of fabric is pulled off and flung onto the blankets with considerably less care.

"Ready to swim?" Obviously, Brienne is not. Surely she doesn't mean to swim in that kaftan?

Why couldn't Westeros be as Nexus is? That is also something that really does muddle with her emotions. So many would benefit. But then again it's harshness has no place in a land of peace. They are not meant to overlap, in those ways. Here she will take in Nexus' safety and enjoy every bit that she can.

Like so many of Frea's smiles.

"That we do, yes." Frea removing her crown makes Brienne remember her own flower she places it under the canopy and off to the corner so that it won't be crushed.

"Y--erm." That's right. She is covered up. She clears her throat and pulls up at the fabric. There's so much of it. Off of her it could be some one's blanket or tent, couldn't it? There. Now it is off. Her arms aren't sure of what to do after she sets it down with the virtually see through thing that Frea had on a moment ago. They are quite the pair.

Because with nothing to compare it to, even the most idyllic peace means nothing. Through the knowing of harshness, people learn to appreciate the gentle; the knowing of war defines the knowledge of peace. There is no rainbow without the rain.

Brienne can have all the smiles she'd like. Why, look, here comes another one: the confirmation they're a good team has her grinning again.

More of her means there's more to love. Frea never comments negatively on Brienne's size. If things get awkward, they'll find a way around it and carry on. No big deal. No more than the fact Frea's so slight in comparison. Frea knows exactly what Brienne should do with her arms, or at least her hands: she should give them to Frea to hold because she's reaching for them. "That suit looks good on you. C'mon, let's put it to good use."

It does damper her hope to someday (and already this is a notion my, my, my) to have Frea visit. But one cannot exist without the other. That's why there are seasons to balance and the one god has seven faces.

A smile comes to her own lips too and taking her friend's hands now has her in the moment once again. "Thank you. Yours... it is an excellent choice." Which would gain attention. Yes. Brienne looks up from Frea's belly button back to her face. "Shall we have a race?"

Brienne doesn't give Frea enough credit if she doesn't think Frea could survive a visit. But then, Frea hasn't given Brienne much of a chance to see her as anything but soft and lovely. They're both so wrong and yet, so right...

Ah, there it is, the elusive smile she so adores. "Thank you." Yes, there's so much to see isn't there? Her belly button isn't what she usually considers her best feature, but whatever makes Brienne happy.

"A race?" She glances at Brienne, top to toe and back, then grins. "Sure. What's the winner get?"

Too many women have been wronged. And they are of various strengths. It's true that Frea still is some sort of fabled royalty to her. The image is so very difficult to shake. Then again, there is no way that a princess of old would be standing with her and be so dear so fast to Brienne the Beauty.

And it makes her smile the more. Belly button was the most neutral place she could find that wasn't her shapely legs or well shaped bosom. Ahem.

"The winner gets to keep the most impressive shell in the other's possession." Oh. They're going to collect shells by the way. It is decided.

The thing about fairy tales and fables is that anyone can stumble into one. Brienne should be grateful hers has such a nice reprieve.

Brienne can stare at any or all of those places, if she wants. If the flat pale expanse of Frea's stomach seems safer, that's okay too.

"Hmm." Frea considers the implications of that challenge before giving a nod. Swimming, then something to eat, then collecting shells; that sounds perfect to her. "Agreed. On the count of three? One, two..."

Mortals and the mythical don't usually have a pleasant result. She hasn't been kidnapped or made a pawn in yet another game. The only games Brienne is engaging in are of her choosing.

While she's considering, she again appreciates the two pairs of hands for her to hold and lightly, lightly swing with the wind. "Three...?"
'
The corners of her mouth curl.

Well, there was that run-in with a fairy godfather...

Hand swinging? Brienne really is starting to relax! Frea's enjoying it so much she almost forgets what they were counting for. Oh yes. Racing. Hmm, that means she needs one of her hands back--but not both. Holding hands while they race into the waves means nobody gets left behind. Yes. This is ideal.

And if they have a tie, they'll just have to trade shells.

Frea whoops with joy when she splashes into the water. The cold water brushes up over her ankles before retreating. She chases it across the sand, kicking up the foam and twirling around in the spray and laughing. Always laughing.

Such a man that he is! They should cross paths again in the future. Brienne believes that he is just like that at all times: dapper, enigmatic and prone to glitter. She must tell Frea that she had promised him a feast in return for kindness.

Just a little hand-swinging, yes. Progress. Brienne lets go of one hand, anticipating another. Together? Oh. That doesn't seem like a bad change at all. Off they go across the sand. She finds herself laughing, laughing too at the first cold splash over the tops of her feet.

The last time she even saw the sea was from King's Landing. The water was not nearly so inviting.

Dapper and enigmatic, yes. Glitter, not so much. Not until the next Samhain ball, anyway. But very deserving in feasts. Frea will have to hope she's invited too.

A little progress is only going to encourage Frea to hope for more. It's a slippery slope, Brienne, from the cold peaks of moral certitude down into the valley of joy.

And then there's laughing. Be still, her heart! Frea grins up at her friend, enjoying the moment while it lasts. "You have a nice laugh."

Perhaps the sparkle in his personality and smile shall suffice until that time. As to feasts, Frea is automatically included. What manner of appointed protector would Brienne be if she wasn't a part of it? And a little support for hosting any event with no prior experience would be invaluable.

Being in the cold for so long she really has had only a vague idea of what she had been missing. What started as exclusion has ended up to be self-imposed hermitage. But the way down is so inviting.

A kick to the waves sends more water to swirl. "Oh..." Brienne hadn't realized she was laughing. She's been stern and vigilant slowly coming to be carefree as well as warmer. "Not so much as yours." She starts to step into the waves.

Schön does sparkle in his own way.

Frea is great at feasts! They'll host the best feast Westeros has ever seen. Food and flowers will be abundant, and the weather will, of course, be perfect. A lingering taste of summer in a land facing too much winter. It shall be every good thing.

The way down is strewn with flowers and ends in Frea's arms. There may be an occasional thorn, but what does that matter when there'll be kisses better?

"I like it." It's pressing, but it's the last of the pressing. A little reward for Brienne's bravery in letting herself laugh again. "When's the last time you went swimming?"

Food and flowers are usually things boasted of from places like Highgarden or Dorne. Boy will they be in for a treat! At the very least, Tarth has to offer views like no other in the Seven Kingdoms.

Oh but what are thorns truly? Life has its barbs. And Brienne has a bark rough exterior. When there will be kisses oh then any thorns should be just fine.

She still smiles. No other reproach or remark aside from a little more color. That's the standard is it not? "I can't place the day but it was before I left to pledge Tarth for King Renly. I'd say more than a year." Another kick to the water. "Too long."

A fine feast and splendid views are key ingredients in the recipe for a fairy tale. At a noble knight, a maiden fair, a dark and mysterious man... it's unlikely to be easily forgotten, this feast of theirs.

Every life has its pains, it's true, and these thorns have roses.

It's a good standard to maintain. The gentle back-and-forth will let them both ease into the changes ahead. Frea kicks some water in Brienne's general direction, intending to splash her a bit. "Then I'm doubly glad we came today. Thank you."

The songs and stories practically write themselves from here on out. And goodness knows those last for all time if the tune is right. Those that would never be there would know of what came that day.

Every rose worth possessing will have thorns, else how would it be a rose?

Frea's demeanor has made the slow divestment of personal armor a liberating task. Splashing is it. Brienne has to stoop to touch the water with her fingertips and swirl it about, still holding her friend's hand. "Thank you." Giving into the whim she flings her fingertips in Frea's direction.

There'll be a few unexpected twists and turns along the way. So long as it all has a happy ending. Stories for the ages, ah, those are glorious things.

Everyone worthy of possessing a rose knows a rose cannot be possessed, only loved in the way it will allow.

Splashing it is, and now she's hoist on her own petard. Unreliable things, those petards. She tries to look indignant about getting splashed--for about a half a second. Then she is, predictably, laughing. "You're welcome!" She splashes in Brienne's direction again.

Can there be a happy ending? There are almost always uplifting endings in songs if not a cautionary tale. May the day be bright and goodness win. How right Brienne was saying that in the songs it is always summer.

There is much to learn. This is not a simple art of gardening. Oh no. This is a new skill.

Indignation at splashing is the standard response. So is a retaliation after said splash. The water is cold enough to get a wince and a brighter laugh out of Brienne. Full water war is now waged!

Every story has a happy ending if it ends at the right time, and likewise, every other kind of ending. It's a matter of timing. If their story ended here and now, with them hand in hand on the cusp of the ocean and the future, it'd be an ending of hope and happiness.

Frea's garden requires tending as careful as the most delicate bloom, but oh, the rewards.

It might not have been her most inspired or surprising reaction, but sometimes the predictable is comforting. But if it's war, well then. She's dragging Brienne further out into the water where their differences in height won't matter so much. She suspects Brienne swims like a fish, so she isn't worried.

Hope, happiness, oh all the things that she could bottle up into her heart to protect until the end of her days. Brienne's high watermark of pleasures keeps getting challenged by Frea's abilities.

There's a reason why people tread lightly in gardens among the flowers. This much Brienne knows.

"Deeper?" she asks but there's not a hint of worry. She follows. And not without splashing at her, scooping handfuls again and again her way. It will be some time before depths can challenge her footing. And yes, Frea she swims very well. Soon choice of dress doesn't matter at all either. Will you look at that? Beneath the waves no one can see. Despite her comfort in open water there is this nagging impulse to hold onto Frea.

If she could give Brienne hope and happiness for the rest of her days, Frea would consider herself the most successful May Queen ever born. A rising ride of pleasure lifts all spirits.

Once they've learned their ways around each other, Frea won't seem so fragile. She requires a deft touch, but a sure one.

"Deeper," she confirms. Brienne may still be on her feet, but Frea's bobbing with the waves now. It's harder to swim while holding Brienne's hand, but it's worth the effort. Seeing Brienne playing is worth so much more than a little inconvenience. They can splash each other and laugh and bob together, and hold onto each other in more ways than physically.

You mean she isn't already? Well right now she is making headway. Hail to Frea, may she reign forever more. Surely there are much grander feats than making a giant warrior woman happy.

Deftness could be applied to other arts not just swordsmanship. Right?

After a time Brienne finally dunks her head beneath the water and come up to spout water. If it so happens to be in Frea's direction, so be it.

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