Schön W. Freund (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
u_can_have_it_4_a_song) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
nexus_sages2016-10-28 10:16 pm
u_can_have_it_4_a_song) wrote in nexus_sages2016-10-28 10:16 pm
Entry tags:
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.
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  |
no subject
no subject
"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?"
no subject
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."
no subject
"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."
no subject
no subject
"People are people," he agrees, "and movies aren't too reliable... but I'll give them that. Pretending nothing's wrong never helps."
no subject
no subject
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."
no subject
no subject
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."
no subject
no subject
The old man smiles encouragingly, giving Harry a pat on the arm. "Nobody's ever just one thing, son."
no subject
no subject
That grin wins an answering chuckle. "Go with what you know--it's hard to argue that."
no subject
no subject
"Ah, now that takes me back," he sighs, settling back with another chuckle. "Tell me about your friends?"
no subject
"Then there's Garrus. He and Shepard go back to her time with the Alliance. He's a turian and the best sniper I've ever met. Became a Spectre in honor of Shepard; that's kind of like the Council's version of special ops. Our engineer Tali's known Shepard just as long, and she's cute as a button, or at least I assume so since quarians can't ever take off their environment suits. We're still recruiting a bunch of people too, so there's probably gonna be more in the coming weeks. Oh, and Joker came along from the Alliance too. He has the rather dubious superpower of breaking his bones easier than other people, but he makes up for it by being a badass pilot. We're totally bros."
no subject
"They sound like quite a group. Remind me of some of my old teams."
no subject
no subject
"Cerberus?"
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject