Samhain Ball Redux - Second Star to the Right

[u_can_have_it_4_a_song]

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.)) YouTube Playlist Visualosity Entrance Ballroom Banquet Bonfire Dark Corners

Comments

Yes, that's obviously the problem.

[brave_heart_verity]

He's smarter than he looks. "Thank you! The flying is purely Schön's fault. Never dare that man to find something you think isn't to be had. Like pixie dust. Want some?"

So that's what's in the little pouch dangling at her hip. A hand hovers over it, but she doesn't reach in without permission. "You understand how it works, right? I know happy thoughts aren't particularly Doom-ish, but still."

What else could it be?

[aw_hawkguy]

He is right about way more stuff than people ever give him credit for. Boomerang arrow. "Never? Wouldn't that be the perfect way to get it, though?"

Behind the tinfoil mask, Clint gives a laugh and flashes a grin. "Sure, lay it on me. Doom demands pixie magic, for Doom has not had enough pixie stix to fly on his own yet!"

I couldn't possibly begin to guess. :P

[brave_heart_verity]

Being underestimated does give him certain strategic advantages. The first time. "Only if you really want it." The look she flashes Clint suggests she wasn't expecting to have to actually do this.

"Is that how it works?" She dips a few fingers into the pouch and withdraws a pinch of dust that she sprinkles over his hair and costume. "Let's see how this compares. If it works, we know you're not a Doombot."

[aw_hawkguy]

Hey, people keep underestimating the Avenger who's just a guy. Even his teammates, sometimes. "Well, that's the trick, huh?" Clint is a carny and a thief--he learned long ago not to make bets you can't cover.

"Gotta stay in character, right? I could shake my fist and yell about Richards. Wait, no, happy thoughts..." He concentrates on something for a moment and, with a delighted laugh, floats up off the floor. "Ha-HA! This is even better than the sky-cycle! Thanks, Verity!"

[brave_heart_verity]

That's less fun. Verity has faith in him. "I suppose so." She's not a carny or a thief or much of a gambler. More fool she, for making bargains with a fairy. As it goes, she's not in a bad spot, just a slightly embarrassing one.

Ver moves a half-step back to give him room to sort out the whole flying thing. It's not as easy as it looks. But she's smiling up at him once he starts to float. "You're welcome! Sorry to blow your Doombot cover." No, she's not. "I'll make it up to you?"

[aw_hawkguy]

At least Verity's a protagonist in one of those stories where she has to endure looking foolish for a moment and then comes out of it well.

Clint may need a minute to orient himself and get the hang of flying without a jetpack or similar. Good thing he's got some green sweatpants on under that robe. "I could probably still sell the Doombot thing. Some kind of levitation, or happy-thought simulator, or whatever. It's Doom, the guy builds more lifelike robots than Japan, and for worse reasons." Oh, but she's offered to make it up to him? "How?"

[brave_heart_verity]

Well, that's a point. There are much worse kinds of roles in stories. She's met a few, maybe was a few. No, thanks.

Verity hovers nearby, a hand out for him if he needs it but not pressing. He'll learn, she has no doubt. It's likely not his first time feeling weightless. "I'm sure. He does love his 'bots... but not in the way that might have cheered him up, and I'm not sure if that's a pity or not."

That's the question, isn't it? She thinks for a minute before offering, "I'll make dinner for you and Kate?"

[aw_hawkguy]

"Some people just hold on to their crappy moods," Clint muses, turning a slow midair somersault as he tries to get a handle on his balance. He's not falling, though, so he'll figure it out. "Can't be happy unless they're mad."

But hey, that offer: "dinner? You've got yourself a deal!"

[brave_heart_verity]

"You don't say." It's amazing how she can give him that kind of look and not lose her own ability to stay midair. Must be the proof in the pudding. Or it might be her endless fondness for her brother. (Six of one?)

His eager acceptance of her offer makes her smile. "Day after tomorrow I'll bring something by, then."

[aw_hawkguy]

Half dozen to the other.

"Bring something by? Aw, c'mon, Ver, make a visit of it. I'll get Kate to actually stick around, we can have a nice time all together."

[brave_heart_verity]

"That sounds nicer," she agrees with a smile. Winning the young Avenger around has proven difficult, and not just because Kate is prickly about women Clint brings home. Time travel makes things so difficult.

"Ready?"

[aw_hawkguy]

"Looking forward to it." Straightening up, Clint flashes his adoptive sister a grin. "I think I've got this."

[brave_heart_verity]

Yes, let's make it crystal clear for the people following along at home that they are no blood relation to each other. They're only two lost souls from broken families trying to cobble together a sense of belonging with each other.

"You look good. Think you can dance?"

[aw_hawkguy]

Exposition is everyone's responsibility.

"Thanks. Do you think the answer's ever 'no?' Let's go!"