nexus_sages | Samhain Ball Redux - Second Star to the Right

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Samhain Ball Redux - Second Star to the Right

Something flits through the skies of the Nexus, bobbing and swooping only to climb again, an ecstatic aerial dance. At last, mirth of the moment giving way to some other whim, the flying figure drifts groundward, turning and drifting like a falling leaf until his feet, clad in pointed-toed green suede moccasins alight. Forest green tights hug lean legs all the way up to a bright green tunic, belted with rich brown leather and a bright brass buckle. On his left hip hang a set of pan pipes; on his right, a black-handled knife. An impish grin curls his lips, his eyes sparkle with the promise of mischief, and a pert green cap sits atop his head, crowned by a lone red feather. Could this be the black-suited GQ cover model who makes himself ubiquitous in the better-traveled spaces of the Nexus? Could it be Schön?

It is. "People of the Nexus, friends, in the world from which I hail we stand on the cusp of a special day, a harvest-fest when the walls between worlds grow thin, when masks and costumes are worn to frighten away wicked spirits--or to invite them in on more congenial terms. Today we bid Summer adieu, and raise fire and song to meet the long night! Join me, for an evening to last a lifetime, and a farewell to a season well-loved." His hand rises, pointing to where two bright beacons blaze in the churn of the Nexus' heavens. "Second star to the right, and we'll keep on 'til morning!" Crowing with laughter, he soars for that distant point like an arrow, leaving a trail of sparkling, glittering motes of light for anyone interested to follow.

Perched on the border between the parklands and the residential district, the night sky is like a pillow of iridescent black velvet, on which have been scattered an embarrassment of diamonds. Like an enormous pumpkin, a harvest moon presides over the shimmering vista, orange and plump. The air is cool and crisp, punctuated by the crackling hiss of dry leaves in motion every time a breeze picks up.

At the center of it all sits a stately house of Gothic style, ivy-clad and waiting. A square tower stands vigil over the entryway, tall windows overlooking the flagstone drive looping around a fountain full of water as blue and bright as a tropical sea. In the fountain stands an island, and if one peers closely enough, one might imagine they see figures moving about--on the deck of the tiny ship anchored in a cove, or swimming and splashing in a lagoon, or even creeping through the wooded interior. Of the house, the windows of the wings seem dark, perhaps waiting, but the line of the roof is limned with some glow from beyond, and the faint throb of distant music promises that the evening holds more than surfaces. The door stands open, a silent invitation to every brave soul who passes by.

((Happy Halloween! Enjoy the festivities, threadhopping is encouraged, tag back whenever you have time, and don't worry about missing out--we'll still be here when you get back.))
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Visualosity
Entrance
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Wherever she is, Matt will find her. Or she will find him in time. He is wrangling a very darling Miss Bobbi Sox who is a curious little monkey this evening. No monkey would be left unattended especially at a fine to-do. So Matt Murdock has assumed the role of monkey caretaker. Foggy was very helpful in finding this outfit. He might have missed his calling on the theater front. And with no small amount of enthusiasm assured Matt that red is not his only color.

But where to find Verity? He tilts his head this way and that, paying attention to sounds and smells. Not too different from Bobbi's method. Though she has eyes.

They make an adorable pair, her little monkey and her man in a big yellow hat. The hat makes it harder for her to find him, and once she does, it's also the best reason for his finding her before she can sneak up on him: giggles, even from midair, are easy to recognize.

"What in the world are you wearing?" She descends enough to give him a hug and leans in under the hat to give him a kiss. "Are you her banana or something?"

Be gentle, Matty, you know what her childhood wasn't like.

That giggling laugh has never been coming to him from such a height. Matt tilts his head up to smile up at her. His arms are careful with the dainty fabric---and wings.

Gentle, always gentle. "I guess that is how they came together at first, yes. I'm the Man in the Yellow Hat. Bobbi is Curious George for tonight." Bobbi recognizes one of her people now. How is she doing the thing that she is doing? Bark! Bark! Matt scoops up his monkey dog so she can get better scritches and scratches.

Sure it has--he usually insists on going first when they're on patrol, and their path leads down as often as up. But there's no balcony there... Verity's not feeling as careful with him. His costume will survive a strong hug and eager kiss.

"Oh." Yeah no she's not really sure what he's talking about. But okay, it's a thing. Bobbi gets a smile and scritches. "Well, you two look adorable. Hello Bobbi. What's got you confused, huh? You've seen things fly before."

Bobbi is a great fan of upsies. Flying would be the ultimate upsies!

Usually he has a means of closing the distance fast. Jumping up to get her isn't an option here and now. Matt gladly soaks up her strong embrace and stronger kiss.

"Monkey tamer and monkey." More or less. Bobbi's tail is wagging so, so fast. "And she's bananas over you." Yup. He was waiting to tell her that.

People around them murmur. A few complimenting the color and excited whisper of the character in Verity's direction. She's being admired. "I know you look wonderful, sweetheart." No matter what she wears, he's sure of it.

The distance isn't there for long. She's far too eager to be near him again. But not yet, not just yet... after the kiss she lets herself float up and back again, just enough to remind them both who's tethered to the ground and who is not.

"Oh, is that it? Then you got the costumes backwards," she teases. Bobbi's going to be a little doggie helicopter if she keeps that up. The joke is horrible and gets the laugh he's expecting. She loves it. "Aw, well, the feeling's mutual."

Is she being admired? She doesn't notice. This happy moment has her whole attention. "I always do, to you," she reminds him fondly. "Are you thinking happy thoughts?"

To be in her presence, ah, that's the gift always. And besides, they are at a party. Both here to see and be seen. His head stays tilted her way, no glasses so his eyes are soft focus and adoring her way.

"There's always next year, right?" Or some other heavily costumed occasion that doesn't involve hand to hand combat. Matt pets Bobbi, with or without the gift of flight she is glad to be here. That makes three of them!

Happy thoughts? "Yes. You're my happy thought. Why? Does your costume come with special features?"

It makes her knees flutter when he trusts her with that look in his eyes. Tonight, she doesn't have to worry about falling, nor his hearing the way her heart flutters and stumbles into a new rhythm.

"Always next year," she agrees. Bobbi gets one more scritch before Ver's hand falls to the pouch at her hip. The pixie dust comes out sparkling, chiming softly, and floating on its own breeze. "Yes, in fact. Don't you get the reference?"

When the dust is dispersed she has her hand out to catch them. Just in case.

He still has a good idea that Verity digs his goofy looks. It only inspires more listening to her heart or any kind of sigh. Her airborne nature does make it less of a worry of whether or not she will fall.

"I do but--" well, she is magic herself. Matt lifts his head and swears he can hear a kind of tinkling, twinkling noise. Magic is not detected in the usual way. And his skin feels a tickle coming out as a laugh in him as his feet leave the ground. Happy thoughts she said. Mrs. Verity Willis Murdock. Sleeping in. The night air on his face. "Woah." His sense of balance is impeccable. He still reaches out for her hand. There's Bobbi to think about after all.

"That's more like it."

His looks are kinda her aesthetic. She can't fall for him any further than she already fell. He really is her devil.

Bobbi, being 57% happy thoughts, is having no trouble at all with this new relationship with the ground. It's exciting! And her tall ones are doing it so it must be okay! OMG maybe she can be as tall as they are! No treats are outta reach now!! (Verity might have needed to think about this a little longer...)

She takes Matt's hand. Her fingers lace between his. His sense of balance is better than her own, but a change is a change. The happy thoughts are a change. Mostly, she just wants to hold his hand. He's strong and brave and deserves all this happiness. "You're a natural. But that makes sense, they say that every devil was an angel once..."

Brown eyes full of mischief, nice jaw, smug smile and all of it really not a big deal for him. Nothing visual is all that much. Verity is gorgeous to him. Fact.

Bobbi hovers at a much higher level than before. Matt is going to really have to keep watch over her now. Already she is sniffing and doggie paddling in the air. This is a can of worms they have pried open and then some. Treats, pets and general tallness add to Bobbi's happy thoughts.

Her people are a little distracted. Matt's fingers lace with Verity's. Equilibrium lets him know which way is up. And he tries to take to it like somewhere between swimming and dancing. "Ah, now there's a missed costume opportunity. I'd have to borrow your halo." Because she's always an angel to him. Now that they're on the same level, literally, he can come closer and be the one to lean and give her a kiss. The brim of his yellow hat tipping back some, thankfully still keeping it's precarious balance.

He's sure smug all right, but she can't help but think he's earned the right. And that smug smile is so very kissable. He's free to think she's gorgeous, but she knows he's handsome. Fact.

Such a problem if this pixie dust doesn't wear off by the end of the night. But Bobbi's not worried about that. Her tail is wagging hard enough to provide propulsion. There are so many more things to chase now that she's moving in three dimensions!

"What makes you think I've got one?" She's no angel, and she knows it. How he's so convinced she's good is beyond her understanding. It's his biggest blindness. Hers is any flaw he might theoretically have, maybe. When he leans in for the kiss, she tugs his hand lightly to pull him closer. Her other hand curls around the back of his head. To hold his hat on. Seems legit.

Kisses make him smug. Her affection too. So many factors. They go in circles like this. It's not so bad a thing, isn't it? Love into love into love. And the happy thoughts keep going. Hopefully this pixie dust will wear off or else the Devil of Hell's Kitchen is going to have one more power to get used to.

...the apartment will also need to be completely Bobbi proof from the doorknobs and up now. That waggily tail keeps going and going. Matt will rely on the swish, swish sound to find her if he can't trail the smell. And she is a wonderful smelling as far as dogs go!

"Call it a hunch." No real proof other than belief. He's very big on belief. Their kiss keeps growing, pixie and animal trainer. What a pair. Matt hugs her closer, as close as he's allowed with the extravagant fabric. "Couldn't you say that you're almost an angel right now?"

Love into love into love. That a wonderful way to live. It'll keep her floating forever, with or without the pixie dust. Even when her feet are on the ground, she's lighter now, less weighed down. That's a power the Kitchen would do well to learn.

Yes, if Bobbi's pixie dust doesn't wear off before the end of the night, they'd be in trouble. Maybe a good wash will help. It's not hard to follow the pupper, swishing tail and happy barks and all.

The dress doesn't get in the way of much. No more than other outfits. The wings, well, he'll have to work around those. There's room for his arms to slip beneath. It's a glorious kiss and leaves her momentarily breathless and permanently happy. "Are pixies and angels very much alike? You're the expert on all things religious."

They'll keep their hearts flying. That hasn't ever stopped since they started. Little thrills and surprises make it a roller-coaster ride. As if their life didn't have enough excitement as it is!

For now, someone really should capture a picture of them. A flying monkey, a flying man and a pretty pixie. Samhain Ball is the gift that keeps on giving. Matt already felt a swell of appreciation for the occasion. This is how they met. And now a whole year behind them and so many ahead, his smile brightens again. How did he get so lucky?

"Well... Winged creatures. I think you're still a little on the devil side being a spirit of nature. One blessing away, I think." Matt always enjoys the sound of her voice, especially moments like now when she's happy. Being in the air separates them from the crowd and the sound.

Their lives are more of a roller coaster than anything on Coney Island. More loving and with better landings, too. They'll always be ready to catch each other.

This would be a great time for someone to start snapping pics. Pity they could never post any of this on FaceSpace. It's a small price to pay for so much joy. One whole year. Almost a year from when things had a proper start. A few of the bright spots in her memory of the time. She's still got the silk dress she wore last year. Maybe she'll put it on later, for fun.

"Mm, not little," she whispers. It's a good thing nobody else can hear her. "But I have a blessing, honey. I have you." She could keep talking, but the moment demands a kissing interlude right here. "What more could I need?"

This kind of action, who needs season passes to any theme park? No lines, best seats, best everything.

FaceSpace is overrated. Matt will gladly tell Foggy about the wonderful time. (That is if he doesn't show up himself.) And Just having a private snap or two mean the world to Variety later. Mat will be sure to seek out someone with a camera before they miss the opportunity. How often can someone snap a picture of them flying? And on this day of all days. It's something he won't ever forget. A picture would be nice though for her to have and to describe to him if she's ever so inclined.

Matt laughs softly at her corrections. It only makes him hold her closer and press another kiss to her face. There's gonna be a lot of that. Just as well they're removed from the throng. "I'm not sure... the minute you think of it, tell me though. We'll work out the rest." Because this feels like heaven to a devil like him. Always does when they're together.

No lines now, but the wait for admission was pretty long. They'll have to make up for that somehow.

She's found so many uses in social media. It's been a good way to stay nominally connected to people without having to actually have anything to do with them. Matt just can't enjoy it the way she does, and that's okay. A private picture would mean the world to her. She loves being able to look back on these good times. She'll happily spend their evenings cuddling after dinner describing her photo collection to him. He features prominently.

Perfect reaction. Just what she was looking for. Being pulled closer inspires her to press closer in turn. They may not be crushed by a crowd, but they're going to crush her dress at this rate. She doesn't care. The kiss is returned with a happy sigh. "I know. I will." Anything she needs, they'll work together to find it. That's how marriage is supposed to work. "A dance?"

She is a member for life now. And the vows only seal the deal. All the thrills she could handle or ever want.

Sometimes not having to enjoy the social media the way others do is less of a worry on him. Public opinion about vigilantes, lawyers, Hell's Kitchen well being and whether or not he's smiling in pictures (with Verity he's always smiling) are things he can go on not thinking too much about until necessary. Their private photograph collection is best enjoyed on the couch or in bed, curled up warm and tight with her voice painting the pictures in his head of moments past.

And moments like now? They deserve to be lived up to their maximum. What's a pressed dress in comparison to how they'll look back on it? He forgets anyway because it's so lovely to have her in his embrace. Being in the air is something he never expected to enjoy. "Oh yes, please." A dance and another, and another. He'll try not to fill up her card. And the comedy of the moment is that even if he was about to be a doofus and play blind, there's no way he'd bump into anyone but Groot this high up.

She wouldn't call herself much of a thrill-seeker, but life with him is unquestionably thrilling. Happy beyond any measure she expected to ever know, even when they're risking life and limb, she must be a thrill-seeker after all.

He'll never get caught up in the political nastiness, it's true. She can read the funny tweets to him, and describe the better sorts of memes. They don't need to talk about their image in the press unless he wants to. The private pictures, the ones painted in their minds, are the best sort. Any memories shared or made when they're curled up warm with each other are to be cherished.

The dress doesn't matter. Green isn't her color and she doubts she'll ever wear it again. She doesn't even care if people start to talk about how it happened. Why would she be ashamed of the affections he shows her? He's wonderful. Even if he wants to play the bumbling blind man, no other partner pleases her so well. Sorry, Groot. "Please? Hmm, I should take you to more balls."

The thrills make settling down and settling in even more enjoyable if absolutely nothing else. Verity has proven time and again that she can most certainly rise to the challenge. And Matt? He has made it a point to be less careless, less foolhardy. It's hard to go home all busted up. Body armor can only do so many things.

They are two birds on the wing with no armor or big cares in the world. Matt doesn't mind his own outfit--canary yellow--getting wrinkled or ruffled. Foggy tried to tell him that he made the color work somehow. It just feels inexplicably different. Lady in green, gent in gold... the both of them are a sight. Matt will be interested to hear about all the details later. For now he takes her hand and puts an arm about her waist.

"So I can be extra, extra polite?"

Settling down and in, but she hopes he'll never admit how much he's settling for her. She'll always do her best to rise to his challenge. If she can be a protective influence, too, all the better. Neither of them enjoy the nights where he's battered and bloody and she's lecturing him at the staccato pace left in between breathing and magic.

Two birds with no cage, free to go where they will. Never flying too far from the other. She loves him like crazy, but nobody would mind that outfit getting ruined. Even he can't entirely pull it off. It just means she's looking forward to getting him out of it later all the more. Hand in hand, her fingers curl around his palm, her thumb caressing the flesh below his. A hand on his shoulder, curled as intimately as the one on her waist. "Yes. You are shockingly rude to me, Matthew Murdock," and he should be able to pick up from her tone about now that she's teasing, "and I shouldn't let you get away with being so demanding."

Never that manner of settling. Oh not by a long shot. Matt is more in the mode of roosting to stay. She isn't like any other person he's ever known. And now that he has, to be without her would be unthinkable. Yes, he is independent and self sufficient, but he has found something special with her. Something that wasn't there with any other before. It's worth any kind of scolding.

This much yellow only looks good as a sundress in the most polite of assessments. And so they fall into step with the music, dancing on the air as they would on the ground. Her teasing always makes him laugh. "Oh no, then this means I'm going to be punished if I misbehave from here on out? Is that it?" Matt squeezes her close if only to hear a squeak. It's hard to be threatening if you squeak, Verity.

Nesting, she'd call it. The setting about preparing a place to be home. Something they should be doing together. Pity she can't leave him all the Swedish DIY to put together while she shops for curtains. Another gendered stereotype foiled.

Dancing on air is divine, even if she's dancing with a banana. Bananas are good! Every dance with Matt reminds her where she belongs. Rhythm, pattern, and partnership all come together in these moments. And teasing, too. He gets that squeak he was hoping for, and then she's blushing, but she tries to recover. "Yes. I might refuse to kiss you for a whole ten minutes."

Preparing a home to suit they life they have together. Yes, that is far more like it. They may have to splurge and have the Swedish DIY models already constructed and delivered. Or... set a side a lot of time for Matt to figure it all out with a reader. Good thing his livelihood doesn't depend on it. Verity can still pick the curtains or anything she likes.

Thankfully it's just a banana color and not the complete shape. Bananas are good, to be a banana perhaps not quite so great. The smile on his face is about as bright as he is. "Ten minutes!" his eyebrows lift in shock. That smile falters a little. "I--I don't know if I can handle ten. I must have really done something wrong." Teasing still, the thought of not kissing her for any amount of time is heavier than he thought.

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