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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That smile is one that Brienne would recognize anywhere. It kindles her own to an even brighter shine. Her arms are open and ready to catch the bundle of energy in a dress. The sway of her own garments swish with the movement and Frea is scooped up for a whole turn. Thankfully the grand venue has the room!

Why she still gets pink in the cheeks is anyone's guess because the compliments have been so genuine and frequent. Brienne dips her head before taking another admiring look at Frea.

"And to say you are anything less than beautiful would be a lie," because her own beauty is undeniable. Who cares that they don't have masks or brilliant disguises.

The spin chases a laugh out of her and Frea's not quite ready to be put down when it's over. Her arms keep close around Brienne even when her feet touch the ground again. Her skirt is all tangled around her legs now. It's fine.

That blush. Oh goodness. "I would never want to make a liar of you." But she won't always be beautiful. That's a trouble for later. A few hours, but still, later. "What do you want to do first tonight?"

Well, since she is still up, in the air and in Brienne's arms she doesn't have to part from her immediately. A moment still will help that tangled skirt.

Kind, kind words. "First? Well, let us take a turn about the room. There are so very many people in costumes. And I have reason to believe there will be wonderful things to eat."

Not immediately. Long enough to get her out of another bit of trouble--this time, she didn't get into it alone. A kick of her feet should set her skirt straight enough to suffice when she's set down.

"Mm, people-watching. Good choice. I'm sure the food'll be good too. Think they have lemonade?" They can find out when they get to the bar. For now, she'll take Brienne's arm and let herself be lead on a meandering journey of discovery.

Out of trouble, yes. The taller woman is happy to enjoy the moment where they are the same height thanks to some upper body strength. She beams and watches her skirt swish and flick to a more accommodating state of being. The touch down is gentle, very gentle.

"Oh, I like that very much." Especially when it's actually lemonade and not alcoholic lemonade. Arm and arm they sashay. "Have you ever been to an affair like this, Frea?" Fall is such a strangely short season here. Still something to get used to.

She gives another flick of a foot to make sure the train of the skirt settles behind her instead of beneath. Another crisis averted, thanks to her charming champion. Still, it was fun being the same height while it lasted.

"I don't think I've ever been to a party this fancy before, no." It's so fancy, she's even wearing shoes. Shoes, Brienne. It's worth it to see Brienne sashaying about. She leans over to rest her cheek against Brienne's arm and smile up at her. "You're probably used to these."

Either she lifts Frea, stoops, they're seated or...they're laying down. That is also an option that is not one to be practiced here. Linking arms and walking through the colorful parade of people doesn't require the same height.

"No?" her eyebrows lift in surprise. "You look every bit the part." And is ever a festive person anyone would want at a party. Brienne smiles a little. "I have been to a grand affair or two." And in all of them arrived alone and a guest or host to no other. "I never had so much fun at those parties."

Tonight, flying is also an option. Not that Frea doesn't often feel like she could walk on air, but not usually so literally. Walking on ground is good too, with the right company.

"Well. Costume party." She smiles up at Brienne. "And you set a good example, so regal and strong. Always so proper." It's said with fondness. These are traits she admires. "You'll have more fun at those parties in the future. After all, you've seen and done things nobody back home ever has or ever will. You'll hold your head high and be unbothered by all the petty little things other people squabble over, and everyone will want to know your secret."

Dancing, floating, flying... all manner of hanging about. Each option with it's benefits. Being close to her dearest of companions is preferred.

"An example," her head dips to the side and Frea's smile is returned twice as bright. "Me? I'm only conducting myself as I was taught to." By her Septa rigorously. "No party can compare to this one, it's true." Though she is not so sure that she will have fun because of that. Though Frea's observations hare so very astute and she has never come to doubt her judgment. "If this is your first ball you simply must dance."

Parties are always better with close and trusted friends nearby. Clearly, having Frea close is helping Brienne relax, if she can narrate a phrase like 'hanging out'.

"Yes, and a good one," she insists. It has been decided to be so, and who's going to challenge Frea on this? Not even Brienne, not so very much. Just enough for modesty's sake. Surely Brienne knows she's been a good and calming influence on the seasons so far this year. "Of course! What a splendid idea."

That was an invitation to dance, right? Because Frea's headed for the dance floor now, her hand sliding down Brienne's arm until she can catch the knight's and tangle their fingers together. No escaping her now!

The luxury of having so very dear a friend as Frea wasn't one she knew until now. Arm in arm, she feels the most at ease in a crowd of people. There are tall people, taller than she. And some women. Who would have imagined?

This is absolutely an invitation to dance. And a little easier to introduce. Frea is the more vocal of the two. Brienne also cannot imagine the evening without them dancing together. Their fingers lace together so well. They have a way of just... linking and well at that! It makes her smile a heated, secret grin. Dancing. Ah, yes! They make their way, her long garment swishing with Frea's dress until they find a place for the both of them. "Dancing and food are teh best parts." If it must be gauged on singular aspects and not people.

It's one Frea feels very strongly should be repeated every, oh, every six months or so. Brienne likes orderly things. They can put her on a yearly plan, one annual installment of Frea for the low low price of being wonderful.

There are so many kinds of people here: tree people, bird people, fairy people, mostly people-people. Brienne's far from the odd one out. The costumes, too, are often more outlandish than what Brienne's wearing. Is it good for her to feel ordinary sometimes?

They might have been made for each other, given how well all the edges of their personalities fit together. Frea glances over her shoulder from time to time, flashing glimpses of that bright smile of hers, crinkling around the corners of her lips and eyes betraying how genuine it is. When they've found a spot in the crowd she steps closer to Brienne, shifting her hold on her friend's hand without releasing it. "Are they? Poor me, coming in third," she teases. "Do you want to lead or shall I?"

Being wonderful? Wonderful at all times? Oh if any of the court in Tarth could see her now. Rough, rowdy and cross, Brienne of Tarth all sweetness, grace and smiles! It's a payment she gladly makes. Frea inspires her.

Feeling ordinary is a secret desire of hers. Right up there with being a knight which is alas not an ordinary thing. Funny how you get the things you want sometimes when you believe it will never come to be!

"Hush. If you are to compete nothing else would win!" Tease for tease. Coming to one another's arms she's reminded of the dilemma. "Erm... I can lead." And try her best to be princely. There are some dancers who doing appear to be following any kind of decorum or step. Frea should have at least one formal dance.

Brienne is naturally wonderful. Frea knows this to be a fact. She's an expert in nature. And wonderfulness. And Brienne. Those people in the court in Tarth clearly didn't bother to get to know her properly.

Wishes are often contradictory. Learning how to balance them is one of the harder lessons in life. Easier to do together.

"Oh, so I'm not even in the running?" It was a good attempt, Brienne, but this isn't quite over. Frea has a lot of fight left in her. One formal dance might be all anyone's getting out of her, but for now, she won't argue. She reaches up to smooth Brienne's hair out of her face before resting her hand on her friend's shoulder. "Like this?"

A nature expert cannot be disputed! And to think that there is finally someone that's an authority on the complicated subject of Brienne, well. No one can, could or should argue. Adolescence is a difficult time for anyone, to have expectations of a noble house on your shoulders with those of your gender. Those times are past. They have helped her be who she is right now. And still, still she is wonderful.

Frea could lend a hand in this wish balancing. She is a wish come true. It makes perfect sense.

"I did not say such a thing." Complete with a gasp for the suggestion. "I mean you're in a category all of your own." Whiiiich can easily be twisted some other way. It's impossible for Brienne to remain flustered with such a gentle, helping touch. "Yes, like that." And they are already holding hands and so her own rests at Frea's waist. "Ready?" She can't resist and leans forward to press her lips to the other maiden's forehead.

The best thing about being an authority on Brienne is spending time with Brienne. Possibly better now that adolescence is behind her, but Frea's certain that baby Brienne was just the cutest thing. She has been wonderful, is wonderful, shall be wonderful.

They already balance each other so nicely. Wishes and all.

Frea giggles at the gasp. She does adore when Brienne's feeling playful. "Oh. I see. So I'm not even good enough to compete against the things you like best?" Oh, such a sigh she releases. It's amazing how much air fits in her lungs. At the end, when she's quite deflated, she drapes herself in Brienne's arms. It'll take a moment for her to perk up enough to dance. Or, well, that kiss speeds the process. She couldn't possibly keep playing like that in the face of such delights. She'll perk right up. "Mm-hmm."

They did say she was a very fair infant. Big blue eyes, stubborn yellow hair as usual and most importantly surviving those tremulous years of infancy in a medieval age. She has wondered what the plan was from there. Did the Seven intend for her to have a journey here? To meet Frea?

That giggle makes her heart flutter and she has to fight to try and seem chest fallen. Brienne is no actress. She ends up laughing a little. "I would never, ever insinuate something so untrue." And Frea must know it. Surely! Feeling their bodies lean softens her expression to a secret, savoring smile.

"Best get a dance out of you before you run away." The music has been playing and they start at the beginning of an eight count. Stepping and swaying.

Stubborn hair, is it? Well, well. That's not the root of things Frea would have suspected. Just goes to show. Whatever the plan for her dear friend, Frea's glad she had this part in it.

Frea knows. She wouldn't joke like this if she weren't sure of her place in Brienne's affections. And in her arms. Letting herself go so limp and helpless does leave her open to all sorts of mischief. It's lucky for her that Brienne is too much a lady to indulge in the good tickling Frea most certainly deserves.

"Run away? Is that what you think I'm going to do?" The teasing is clear, but something about it has put Frea out of sorts enough to miss the first step. She hops a bit to find her place again before settling into the dance with Brienne.

The plan thus far involves staying in Nexus, soaking in all there is to see and to know. And that certainly means remaining Frea's close companion. Close she will stay.

Being able to joke is huge. So many a time before now she had thinner skin. Frea treats her with consideration, with care. Brienne now can appreciate the joy of giving and receiving teases. Her heart is unharmed. The more time they spend together, the more it glows and grows within her chest.

(Tickling will happen this evening. Happen when Frea least expects it!)

"Run or turn and fight, is it a fight you're looking for?" Her eyebrow lifts in challenge. Now as they are in some kind of motion, any missed steps are just fine. Brienne ducks her head so that they are closer.

If only she could stay as close as she has been. But Frea would only feel worse about what's coming if anyone tried to go with her.

It's been a good season of growth for the both of them. Brienne's learned so much and is blossoming. Her strength is more than a shell and her beauty is allowed to shine through. Frea's so proud of her.

(Eep!)

"A fight? With you? Never." Frea may be trouble, but she knows when to concede. The ducked head lets her reach up and kiss Brienne's cheek all the better. "You're far too dear for that."

Most troubles lie behind or far ahead. For now Brienne is here in Nexus. Her troubles are not immediately threatening to her life nor anyone elses. (That she knows of--goodness!) It's a safe space. A place where she can grow and learn with understanding and nurturing verses criticism and unrealistic expectations of her own character. Frea has been there at her side. The lady herself too is continually blooming.

Teasing, tickling and all manner of games are a part of their flirting. What a life!

"I'd much prefer to lay down arms than to raise a sword to you," she answers softly, dare we even say sweetly. Once again a color comes into Brienne's face at the kiss and her own words.

Pretty words, a pretty moment. This is very similar to many day dreams she had. Though she never imagined that feeling pretty also meant to be with someone so pretty. Remembering to be the lead in the dance keeps her rooted in reality.

Every bloom fades. Frea is looking uncharacteristically tired. But it's been a long harvest, she's been working so hard... and so has Brienne. They've learned such a lot together.

A life of flirting is a happy life indeed.

"Well, good. I don't even have a sword, it'd be such an unfair fight." She nudges her nose against Brienne's chin playfully. "If we're gonna fight, we're gonna do it together, right?"

Such a lovely sentiment for a lovely moment. Friends, closer than close, and comrades in arms too if it should come to that. Letting Brienne lead her around the floor lets Frea relax into the unfamiliar dance and keeps her rooted, too.

Tired, and still, still beautiful. That's a thing that does not change. Though blooms indeed have their cyclical life. Brienne holds her closer as they have their exchange amidst the dance.

"I... have no sword in this moment," she admits in a hush as though someone could hear and do something about it. "We shall fight together, yes. This is your treaty then?"

If she felt so inclined, Brienne could carry her through all the steps. The count of four over and over, sometimes dull. Not here. Not now. The lights are bright and pretty, the crowd strange and exotic. Frea sweet and comfortable in her arms.

If everyone had faith like Brienne, the worlds would be better places. It's a faith that will be tested, but there's a fair chance of rewards.

"Yes. Together." Frea reaches up to seal the pact with a kiss dropped delicately on the tip of Brienne's nose. "You've spent a whole summer taking care of me. Next summer, I'll help you more with your duties."

Brienne could probably carry her through the whole winter, if either of them were so inclined. She wouldn't enjoy it. "You've been happy?" What an odd question. "I know the summers here are short compared to what you're used to."

Once Brienne has come to trust someone, it is not easily shaken or severed. She swore herself to Lady Stark's service, enough to make unlikely alliances. And Frea has gone above and beyond what anyone has ever done for her, it is a deeper bond forged from the same mythical steel as Oathkeeper.

The kiss makes her expression bloom in its own way to a wide, smile. Their talk was always joking. Still, an affirmation that they should not be enemies is very important to hear. "There is much time before than. Whatever shall we do?"

Step. Sway. This way. That way. The question is an odd one. She sees no need to be thrown so and answers readily. "Oh yes, I have been. And I am." More happy than she has been at most parties. "I'm not looking forward to a winter but it shall be short too... and no where near as savage."

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