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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It's a little unlike Han to be so figurative with his own words; the best he can do is recite when he finds something interesting. Every once in a while he can do a little verbal fencing and he can be more clever than he lets on, but he couldn't come up with a seemingly spontaneous and yet ... well thought out metaphors like she just did. She likens him to a force of nature. That's a interesting concept to digest for now and for later.

"Well I ..."

He didn't expect her reaction to be so strong. Yes, he's noticed that Frea listens to him; perhaps more than anyone ought to. He doesn't often try to draw attention to those closeted romantic feelings that he's got though and he feels a bit vulnerable letting her see it. The hope was maybe that he could slide it in with her only half noticing.

"I think you might be overestimating my importance. The most special thing about me is the way I get to be around you."

He's assuming it was spontaneous and not something she's been thinking about. She's more thoughtful than she might let on; life is not an eternal playtime for her. Far from. And he's worth thinking about.

She listens to him because he's worth listening to. What's of value to her is for her to determine, and he's at the top of the list. Hoping she wouldn't be paying attention to what he says was wishful thinking of the most realistic sort. Maybe she didn't have to make such a big deal out of it; quoting someone else is perhaps not directly a great feat. But for her, it's the thought that counts. He thought about her enough to see something of her in those words, and to remember them. He thinks enough of her to share a lovely sentiment. In that light, it's quite a grand romantic gesture.

"Never," she assures him. "You wouldn't get to be around me so much if you had no good qualities of your own."

She makes it seem like it is, sometimes. Like her existence is one big ball of fun with her breezy smile and the virtually endless positivity. He knows it's not true, of course, some of work is very physically demanding and emotionally taxing, but she insulates him from a lot of her strife. He's clueless about much of it, but he can only know what Frea is willing to show or tell him.

To be fair, Han represents much of his own existence to her in a way that he thinks will make her worry less. He certainly hasn't gone to great lengths to describe what typically happens to the people who owe money to Jabba. Or the things that can go wrong while you're trying to navigate through an asteroid field.

"I feel like you'd say that to a lot of people." He says with a half of a smile. That he's managed not to step on her feet while they've been moving together and that there hasn't been any complaints on his slow dance, he takes as a good sign.

"Is your harvest completely finished?"

True and fair, she's taken care to present a certain image. It's her own fault that people believe it. Who could really blame her for some wishful thinking? Breezy smiles and positivity are so much more fun than the parts of her work she does alone.

Much like it's more fun to think of him flying around in space having grand adventures, and not worrying about all the things that could go wrong. Or the debts. Or... well. It would be an overwhelming list of worries, if she let herself go down that road. Worse, almost all of them are worries she can't do anything about. Finding herself unable to help makes her wonder why she signed up for this gig.

"Mm..." Frea bites her lip and makes a show of thinking about it before she shakes her head. "Nope. Pretty sure I've never said that before. You're just going to have to deal with being special to me."

She'll take that half a smile for as long as it lasts. A little more of this accident-free dancing, and maybe he'll find the other half for her. She could use a smile, now that hers has gone missing. "...yes. For this year."

He really only knows a little bit about what goes on with Frea. It's not for lack of not wanting to know more, certainly, but there are things that she hasn't talked about and a couple of instances where he didn't ask to know more. She likes to keep things positive and in the present, which ... isn't a bad thing. Most of the time.

What he does know is that her harvest being over means her time is growing short, he just has no idea how short. Should he ask? He gets the sense that if she really wanted him to know, she would have told him.

"You wouldn't leave without saying goodbye, I hope." His voice adopts the quiet murmur that is very distinctive of him. "To wake up one day and have you just be gone seems cold."

There are things they both should have pushed themselves on. Hindsight is always clearer than attempts to divine the future. She's no oracle, not the sort who can help with this kind of thing. And he is... wonderfully, gloriously mortal.

The problem with living so much in the present is that eventually, the future put off for so long eventually arrives. She wonders if he's edging around a question he wants to ask, or if he's making idle conversation. Either way, it's got her feeling a little guilty now.

"No, I won't leave without saying goodbye," she promises. It's sealed with a kiss, so he knows it's serious. The kisses after that one are for fun, and for love, and to help tide them both over for what's to come. His lips feel so warm against hers. Or hers are cold.

"I have a few hours left," she admits when she can make herself stop kissing him enough to talk. "I didn't want you to dread it coming too much to enjoy the last few days."

Something to know for the next season, perhaps. There's no danger of Han not making mistakes with people he cares about and otherwise, but damn it if he won't keep trying to do better. If anyone might have gotten the impression that Han liked things easy, they need look no further than the banged up freighter that he refuses to get rid of.

It's a wave of emotion that she makes him ride with those two sentiments, though- relief at first, pleasure and then, grief. Even though he had the suspicion that the later was coming soon, it still feels too close for his comfort. Kisses are only so much of a distraction from it, but he does appreciate them.

"Well, you know me well enough to know that I probably would have done that." He's gotta think that knowing that she was right about him dreading that moment is a hollow victory. "Kidnapping you and marooning us on a beach planet is probably out of the question, right?"

They'll do better next year. Learning and growing is kinda the whole point of these lives they live. And learning how to grow together would be a loving gift. Neither of them pretends to be perfect. Taking care around each other's sore spots and rough edges is better than pretending to perfection.

It's all too close for her comfort. Everything but him. Alas that she is as much at the whims of the passing of time as everyone else. The kisses can't distract either of them for long, but still, she tries.

"I like to think I know you pretty well," she admits with one of her mischievous little smiles. It's not an entirely hollow victory for her. It's more like a chocolate bunny: mostly hollow, but delicious. The offer is sweet, and her smile shifts into something more bittersweet. "I wish that would work. I would love to have you all to myself for a while... any chance of a six-month raincheck?"

A heavy conversation for dancing, probably, but one they need to have. This can be another one of those things that he'll have a better understanding of for next year. With a couple of seasons under his belt, he might make a decent and knowledgeable companion to her ladyship.

As it is, the dancing is going well. The soft, swagger of Han's typical movements replaced with a supportive and decisively moving dance partner. And it's good that he's halfway decent at this because it would be pretty easy to get caught up in the words they're exchanging and start stepping on her. This is a pretty serious talk, after all.

"It's a credit to that attention to detail you have." That she knows him. He tries so hard to keep people from noticing too much about him. "A shame. We'd be halfway to the ship by now if you told me it would, but you can be sure we'll do some lounging together next year. Someone needs to distract you from all the important things you do."

Knowledgeable, sure, but do either of them really want him to be decent? She rather likes his roguish ways. If he wasn't already a proper companion for her, he wouldn't have had so much of her attention.

Stepping on her delicate little toes wouldn't make this talk any easier. The qualities that make him such a good dance partner also made this a good time for the talk, in a way: he's so decidedly in control of the dance, he isn't left floundering with no sense of control over everything else. Not an equal balance, but something of an emotional counterweight, perhaps?

She smiles at the compliment. He's not an easy man to get to know, and she knows there's still a great deal she doesn't know (and maybe never will), but a deep dark-watered pond can still reveal the occasional secret. Next season, she'll do better.

"Yes, I do need you to remind me to play sometimes." She answers with such a serious look that she's obviously playing. "I'm so terribly dull without you. And you'll come back with stories of adventures to make me wildly jealous, I'm sure."

"I'm not saying that you're dull."

He's stretching out the words to the point that they're almost a drawl. Which makes sense with his accent. Those familiar with the intonations of language where he comes from would know that they're dealing with someone who grew up in the gutter. "I am saying you work hard. I want to make sure you get to play hard too, that's all."

The talk of flying off for another round of adventures earns a reserved smile from him. One that seems to suggest he's both pleased and resigned by the idea of getting back to his old life. There are things calling to him and things he wishes he didn't have to face, but that's about how anything is, right? Pros and cons to all things.

"If all goes well, they'll tell stories of my cunning and skill. I hear you have to grow a legend, so. I guess that's what I'm gonna have to do." Hard to tell if he's kidding or being serious there.

Flowers bloom in gutters, too. She doesn't know about the linguistic habits of his homeworld, but she knows it doesn't matter to her. Who he is now, and who he wants to become, are far more important to her.

"I know, silly." Frea smiles up at him. That's one thing she'll never be too tired to do. "I'm better for knowing you. Thank you for helping me remember to play."

If she's laying it on a little thick, it's because his ego is both vast and fragile and she wants to reinforce him as much as she can before she goes. It'll be a cold winter and she worries about him. The life he lives away from her isn't the best for his learning to see himself as more than a gutter trash smuggler, either. And she can see the reservation in his smile.

"Mmm, you'll make a wonderful legend. The perfect mix of brave and foolhardy, all wrapped up in the handsomest face this side of your galaxy," she teases.

Silly isn't a thing he gets accused of very often. The way it seems to accompany a look of endearment and a bright smile, he doesn't seem to mind. In fact, he could get used to the idea of being silly.

She's right on about Han - for all the bragging he likes to do and all the confidence he seems to have, he's got some deeply rooted insecurities. They haven't gotten in the way much during their spring to summer romance, but when he's back in the cold of space there will be a lot of time to think about things that he didn't in the Nexus.

Though, there'd be a lot of time to think the same kind of thoughts if he stayed for a Nexus winter too.

"Sounds pretty good when you're telling it, sweetheart."

He's hoping she won't deny him as he shifts his position to better lean in for a kiss. The amount of ones he'll be able to get between now and when she's gone seems far too few for his taste.

Silly may not help in his line of work, but it works with her help. Some people need a partner for comedy, and to relax enough to try something new. If she can be either of those things for him she'll be happy. Being both would be even better. A surfeit of blessings.

Long lonely times are the traditional hunting grounds of insecurities and worries. Dark and quiet help them hunt their prey. But he's too much a predator to be taken unawares. She hopes.

"I'm inclined to paint you in a favorable light," she admits. No kisses will be denied tonight. They're too precious to even be delayed.

He's quiet for a while, moving with the most beautiful person in the whole place. He spends most of the next minute or two trying to decide how close he can holder her and how much he can lean in.

Han's not familiar with this kind of music enough to have any idea of when the songs are going to actually end. If there going to end - his own galaxy has a few genres with overly long songs as well, as if the song can only be finished when the band passes out. It's extremely rare that he listens to music for it's own sake, though, so he can't really speak on this sort of thing with any authority.

Regardless, slow dancing isn't especially taxing. When the music eventually quiets, he'll ask "you game for a bit of a walk or to have a seat somewhere that we can keep talking?"

He can deliberate on the finer points of dancing and holding and leaning. She's going to lean in and rest her head on his chest while they sway. This is a time for action. Cozy, barely moving action.

The music comes and goes; sometimes there's pauses, applause, laughter. There are lulls for retuning and regrouping. The band probably even gets a break from time to time. Sometimes, she's humming along; sometimes, she doesn't stop when the music does.

"Hmm. A little walk. I want to see more of the costumes people are wearing." Frea tilts her head to smile up at him. "Then we can find a quiet place to talk."

On his chest is a good place for her cheek. It's solid. Almost never seems to hurry through its breathing. His heart always seems to quicken a bit when she gets in this close to him, though. In the midst of a party full of music and people, she probably can't hear it - maybe she can feel it.

"A walk sounds great." Whatever she could want for, that he can accommodate, he's willing. Which is not the way that Han is around everybody. There's no time to waste tonight with games. He's very preoccupied by the fact that their time together is nearing its end - and in that sense, she might have been right not to tell him with how much it's on his mind now.

It's not hard to smile back at her when she's smiling like that at him though. As if she can see right through him and know that he needs it. "Have you been here for a while before finding me?"

The rhythmic rise and fall of his chest as he breathes and the counter-rhythm of his heartbeat are some of the most soothing sounds nature has ever produced. She's so glad for them, right in this moment. So glad for him. Going for a walk will mean she has to move, but maybe she can tuck herself against his side and continue enjoying his warmth.

"Upstairs or down?" Some decisions mean doing a little bad to do more good. That doesn't make it easier for anyone involved. It would be easy to forget that when he's being so accommodating. She could let herself think the only reason he's being kind is because he loves her, and ignore the rising urgency. But would that be kind to either of them?

It's easy to smile when he's going to smile back like that. "Not very long. Just long enough to start wishing you were here."

She's welcome to press up to him. It's not the kind of thing he would have ever denied her before, but he's definitely not going to do it now. He likes the moments where she's close to him, wherever they manage to work them in.

As for his motivations? He's kind when he feels compelled to be. He's also unkind when he feels compelled to be. There's not that much more thought put into it than that. Unfortunately, he is sometimes unkind to the people he cares about very dearly. He's not perfect and he'll never be the shining hero that some people have the capacity to be.

He might be able to do the right thing at the right time, though. There's a place for those kind of people in the galaxy (or the multiverse) too, isn't there?

"Downstairs seems to be where all the action is taking place, right?" He says with a thoughtful tilt of his head. "Might as well head that way."

Even the spring has her cruelties. There's no good reason at the moment to dwell on these things. She'd rather revel in the kindness they can still show each other. The warmth of those feelings will have to last them both through all manner of hard times. And it's only natural to prefer to think about the good things.

The multiverse has a great need for people who can do the right thing at the right time. So many focus on 'good', 'nice', 'kind', or their opposites. 'Right' is on a whole different scale.

"Okay. That's where the drinks are too, and I bet you could use one right about now." She wouldn't blame him for wanting to get drunk soon, or right after she leaves. She would if the roles were reversed. He can steer them down the stairs, and she'll make sure her dress stays out from underfoot. (Trains are elegant, not practical.)

"Everyone's gonna be so jealous seeing me with the handsomest man in the room," she teases with a fond smile. "It's probably a good thing they didn't get to see how nice dancing with you can be."

He wouldn't necessarily have expected that - the idea of Frea getting lost in the bottom of a bottle because he was leaving for half the year. The truth is that all of this is strange for him, he's the one that leaves people behind for the most part. It never dawned on him that it might be because he's ill-equipped for goodbye. Not when he's so good at convincing himself that he's grown a thicker skin ...

So the drinks will be indulged in, but more likely when she is gone. Truly gone. Then he can get as sloppy as he likes without worrying about sullying the memory of their last night together.

"Will you remember me when you come back?" She might not know, since it is only her first spring. He figures he'd ask since it's on his mind all of a sudden. It almost seems like it would be more kind not to. If she awoke every spring like a brand new sapling - but she has wisdom and experience beyond her years so ... on some level she's remembering some things.

"Some of the people here have seen us together already." He points out as he eases them down the stairs. "Besides, I can't imagine anyone would look at me when you're nearby."

It's not an impulse or side of herself she's proud of, and she has no desire to indulge in it. But everyone who's been even slightly self-aware knows some of the depths to which they're capable of sinking. Even the mightiest oak can be toppled, and what are tears but a rain exposing her roots?

"Yes." As uncertain as she's been about so many things, she's rock-solid on this point. She sees no point in loving if she's not going to its natural conclusion. If it's partially wishful thinking, well, she's convinced herself. "I could never forget you. Flowers always remember how to face the sun."

Once they're down the stairs, she drops her train so she can wrap her arms around him again. "They couldn't see how nice it was. I would have noticed if they were cutting in."

Han Solo as a source of light and nurturance for something or someone seems like an almost unbelievable concept to him. He's convinced that he isn't, matter of fact, but he's glad she fell for this ruse he didn't particularly notice himself weaving. He's not special. He's a pretty good pilot and that's about it.

"Good."

The word tumbles out of his mouth before he has a chance to hold it in. He hates the idea of her forgetting him as much as he thinks it might be easier that way. Maybe because he'll be holding on to the ones he has of her so tightly that ... he wants the same for her, if she would find it comforting.

"Oh, I meant before tonight." They did things together throughout the spring and summer. Most of Han's acquaintances had picked up on the fact that he liked being around her ladyship. "I'm content to keep the fact that I can passably slow dance our little secret."

Plants are resilient. They can adapt to grow in all manner of conditions, thriving in every kind of light. For her, he is a source of warmth and joy. And he shouldn't be entirely surprised; she's shown a fondness for stretching up to meet him.

The unintended reassurance coaxes a smile from her. She doesn't want to be forgotten, and she doesn't want him to want her to forget, either. There's no need to say anything. The cat-like way she leans over to nuzzle his shoulder says enough.

"True. And they were all jealous then, too." Their friends and acquaintances can see what they want and think what they like. She's glad to have been with him, and proud. Not everyone gets to get this close to him. "Hmm. Maybe I should insist on more secret dancing, if you want me to keep a secret," she teases fondly.

Han is guarded with his feelings and his affections. He understands that he doesn't handle that kind of pain terribly well and therefore, he guards them well. People slip past his defenses, though. It never fails. He just has to hope they won't make too much of a mess when they get through.

"Hrm." He says, with a hand sliding over to her, the large palm caressing the small of her back. "I'm not sure that engaging in more dancing is the best way to keep it a secret."

In fact, he's not exactly a master strategist or anything, but that seems like a terrible way to keep the fact that he knows how to dance a private matter. Yet, he says it with a smile on his face. The kind of knowing smile that says 'you could get me to do just about anything and I'm okay with that'.

"So, I'm gonna to take a stab and guess midnight." Till she disappears. His other guess would have been sunset, the classic witching hour, but he thinks they might have already passed that point.

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