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

[thepizzalord]

Well, that's a hell of a lot more serious than Harry was hoping for, but he mentally shrugs. He's not the only one with issues, anyway. "I like to think of myself as one of the good guys. Trying to save the galaxy from giant mechanical space squids and all that."

[stands_for_something]

He catches himself with a sigh. "Sorry. Work's been on my mind a lot lately, it's hard to properly unwind for something like this. Giant mechanical space squids, you say? Please, son, have a seat and tell me all about it."

[thepizzalord]

"I think it'd bring down the mood a bit," Harry admits, although he does find a comfortable seat near the fire, close enough that they can chat without being all up in each other's personal space. He pulls one of the chocolate bars from his pockets, and after a brief moment's thought, offers it to Steve. Sharing is caring and all that. "So what do you do? You mentioned superpowers earlier."

[stands_for_something]

"What's Halloween without a spooky tale or two?" Steve asks rhetorically, before turning to Harry's question. "In the world I'm from, there are people with amazing abilities, and quite a few have turned those abilities toward helping people. I used to be one--I enlisted for the second World War, got put in an experimental program to make a better soldier. That was, well, years ago. These days, I'm the director of S.H.I.E.L.D. It's, ah, sort of an international agency, oversees superpowered problems and extraordinary situations."

[thepizzalord]

"Spooky stories are more fun when you know they aren't true," Harry counters with a shrug. Okay, guy doesn't want candy, more for him.

That story sounds reeeeally familiar, and Harry would be a lot more on-the-ball with his theories on whether or not he knows this one if not for the fact that he left his Earth several years before certain Marvel films were released. "Used to be one as in you don't have powers anymore, or you don't go by the codename?"

[stands_for_something]

Candy is best enjoyed by the young. Besides, Steve has a pocket full of Werther's butterscotch, so he'll be fine. "Both," he admits. "The serum in my body started breaking down last year; I got old, I'm not as strong or as fast as I used to be. Passed the shield to a good friend." He taps a finger to his temple, adding, "I'm still pretty quick up here, though. Experience counts."

[thepizzalord]

Harry pauses a moment. "Different shield than the one you're running, I assume?" God this story sounds familiar.

Let's try that again, shall we?

[stands_for_something]

"Different shield," he confirms. "Captain America's shield, as opposed to the organization, SHIELD."

Happens to everyone!

[thepizzalord]

Harry opens his mouth, then closes it again. "Captain America. Really." He does not have nearly enough chocolate for this. "Well I guess after meeting Superman and his lovely family, this isn't that much of a surprise." Then he blinks as a thought occurs to him. "Really, with the costume and everything? Mr. Rogers?"

[stands_for_something]

The old man grins, laughing. "And now you really get it. I take it you've heard of my work, then."

[thepizzalord]

"Probably like third-hand, given how these things work, but yeah," Harry says with a nod. He's made it a habit not to shock people with the knowledge that they're fictional in other worlds, if they don't know already. Seems rude. Besides, every now and then he wonders what he'd do if someone told him the same thing. Laugh in their face, probably, then go get drunk with Shepard because that would make sense.

"What year is it for you now?" he asks, 'cuz now he's curious. Nothing says Cap's gotta age at the same rate as other guys, thanks to the serum, and in some versions of the story he got turned into a popsicle.

[stands_for_something]

He nods, unsurprised. This Cap seems to have had some multiverse experience. Or he's just really unflappable. "It's twenty fifteen for me. How about you?"

[thepizzalord]

"That's complicated, kind of," Harry says, and finishes off his chocolate bar, digging in his pocket for another one. "I'm living in twenty-one eighty-five but that's not where I'm from, it's just where I ended up. I left my Earth in two thousand seven. Wasn't voluntary."

[stands_for_something]

"It hasn't been that long since my last involuntary trip through time," Steve admits. "I can sympathize. Two thousand seven was a... complicated year, for me." Inwardly, he curses, resolving not to bring this celebration down with old ghosts--even if old ghosts are the order of the day. "But you're in a good place, now?"

[thepizzalord]

"Depends on what you mean by 'good,'" Harry answers with a shrug. "It's not safe but home wasn't either. My magic still works and I've got a person or two around that I care about. And I don't have to worry about the White Council interfering with my life so that's a plus I guess."

[stands_for_something]

"A good life isn't always safe," he muses, "and a safe life isn't always good. If you're happy, and in good company, that's all anyone can hope for." He's quiet for a moment, before voicing the question, "White Council?"

[thepizzalord]

Harry smiles a little. "That's a lot more philosophical than I usually think of it, but you ain't wrong."

He doesn't want to get too deep into things, because number one it's depressing and number two he's got a lot of baggage attached to it, naturally. "Magical government, basically. We've got history and they don't like me. Of course," he says a little dryly, "now I get to deal with another Council that is also full of obstinate assholes so I guess I didn't really trade up."

[stands_for_something]

"Well, I'm getting old," he remarks, "I find time for philosophy nowadays." That's not entirely true--he's always had a head for philosophy, and long sought ways to be certain he was on the right path, or to know which path that even is. Righteousness demands a thoughtful tread, after all.

"It's been my experience that most people in governments, even the petty obstructive bureaucrats, are doing what they do because they believe it's for the best. You've got to understand them, in order to reach them."

[thepizzalord]

"Sure, I get that they don't want to cause a panic, but pretending like nothing's wrong never ends well. I've seen it in so many movies." Harry shakes his head a bit. "Fear makes people do stupid things, even when those people aren't human, apparently. Nice to know some concepts are universal anyway."

[stands_for_something]

"People are people," he agrees, "and movies aren't too reliable... but I'll give them that. Pretending nothing's wrong never helps."

[thepizzalord]

"Yeah, pretty much," Harry agrees. "You've had to deal with that sort of thing too, huh? How bad was it, really?"

[stands_for_something]

The old man sighs, shadows crossing his expression. "There was... an accident. In the world I'm from, there are some people who can do things most can't. Fly, or magic, or what-have-you. A good number of those use their talents to try to help people--they put on costumes, protect the innocent, and they weren't... weren't really accountable to anyone. They were volunteers."

He sighs. "There was an accident. A team of... kids, practically, they found some criminals with powers and they picked a fight. For a reality show." He shakes his head in dismay. "Middle of the day, suburban Connecticut, and this fight spills toward an elementary school. One of the criminals, he could turn anything he touched into a bomb... and he got thrown against a school bus."

He takes a moment, closing his eyes, bowing his head, to mourn the lives lost, then drags himself back to the present to continue. "The public panicked. There'd been people who wanted to register some of the powered people for a long time, and they rode the fear to get sweeping legislation, a law: the Super Hero Registration Act. If you had powers, any kind at all, you either registered and got drafted, or you didn't and you were a criminal."

[thepizzalord]

Well, that's dark. "Sorry I asked."

[stands_for_something]

Is there a better time for dark tales than Halloween night? "Well, it was bad for a while, because that's what happens when people act out of fear," he admits, "but we got through it. There were parts of the SHRA that weren't terrible, some that were actually good, and we kept those, were able to work out the rest. My point is:" he regards Harry soberly, with clear blue eyes that catch the firelight, "people act out of fear, yes. But that fear isn't wrong by itself--it's letting the fear have control. Reach them, remind them that you're stronger than any fear when you stand together, and you'll go far."

[thepizzalord]

Harry shrugs, not really sure how to respond to that. "I'm not really a diplomat or anything. I'm just the big guns. If it happens, it happens."