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

[stands_for_something]

Steve knows that it's a poor sort of guest who lurks out by the bonfire all night, so after he's enjoyed its rainbow flames for a while he comes in, to drift around the periphery of the dance floor. Whether he's wearing a costume or that's just how someone his age tends to dress is a question left to onlookers to answer.

[brave_heart_verity]

"Oh. My. God."

Now, keeping in mind who her god is, that's a particularly worrying phrase coming from Verity. And it is entirely Steve's fault for somehow managing to find a costume that makes him even cooler. (Because she was not, it seems, enough of a fan already?)

Wait. Should she be trying to be cool now? Too late, he already knows she's a flailing mess. But tonight she's a flailing mess with excellent hair and fake wings, so... there's really nowhere to hide.

"Captain Rogers?"

[stands_for_something]

The old man turns at his name, and if he overheard the remark that preceded it, he's not letting it show. "Miss Willis," he replies, with a warm smile. "Won't you be my neighbor?"

[brave_heart_verity]

"Uh." Smooth there, Ver. Totally going to convince him you know what you're doing acting like that. "Um. Yes? Please. Thank you." At least she's flailing politely?

And standing on the ground again, beside him but not too close. "That's a fantastic costume. You look good in red."

[stands_for_something]

His smile only brightens at her anxiety, a silent reassurance, promising that she's doing just fine. And she knows it's not a lie. "Thank you. I was worried it might be a little too subtle. Pun costumes are usually pretty bad, after all." Extending a hand, he asks, "could I have the pleasure of a dance?"

[brave_heart_verity]

Later, when she's thinking back on this, she'll wonder if he'd smile at her like that no matter how badly she was embarrassing herself. Not that she'd mind...

"'Usually' doesn't apply here." Even putting aside that she's unlikely to ever think he could do much of anything wrong, she's certain this costume was an A+ idea. The offer to dance has her grinning like a loon and she takes his hand before the words are out of her mouth. "Yes, please!"

[stands_for_something]

He might. He's never been the sort to try to embarrass someone doing their best.

"Well, that's my mind at ease, then. Thank you," he replies, drawing her out onto the dance floor. He may not be a perpetually-young super-soldier anymore, but a lifetime's worth of grace, agility, and even confidence have let him become an excellent dancer (Jarvis also helped), who leads without pushing, making the steps themselves a partnership, a conversation. "It's quite the impressive costume you've put together, too."

[brave_heart_verity]

Youth, as they say, is wasted on the young. He's an excellent dancer. Kind and considerate in the dance, like he is in most things. It's easy to fall into step with him and never want it to stop. (A familiar road and one she knows how to step off of when the time comes.) With him leading so well, she can relax and enjoy the dance. She doesn't have his years of experience, but she has a touch of grace.

"Oh, thank you. I'm Tinkerbelle tonight." She shifts her shoulders to make the wings flutter slightly. "Pixie dust and happy thoughts optional."

[stands_for_something]

Steve would never say youth is wasted on the young--indeed, quite the opposite, he'd be the sort to opine that the old men who envy it would just waste it again if it were theirs, not having learned the first time through how to enjoy it. Even that is a harsher judgment than he'd prefer to voice aloud. He'd have no faults to find, on the other hand, with Verity's dancing: grace and enthusiasm count for a very great deal.

"I could tell. With real flying, and everything, even." Does he ever stop smiling when he's got Verity for company?

[brave_heart_verity]

Steve is far too nice. They're all luckier for it. Not so much about her dancing; she knows she's pretty good, but she's also sure there's lines of prettier girls who're better dancers waiting for his attention. He's kind to her for reasons she does not understand.

Of course, he stops sometimes. It's hard to smile and eat at the same time, and she does usually have some kind of treat for him when he can find the time to visit. Usually apple-based, but not always. "Yeah, it's kinda a giveaway huh? You... wanna give it a try?"

[stands_for_something]

Steve's never been one to judge a lady by her looks, and in terms of character, Verity stands out. That's a good reason for kindness right there.

He smiles at the offer. "I'd like that. Happy thoughts, right?"

[brave_heart_verity]

Nobody could blame him for wanting to enjoy pretty and talented company sometimes. Ver might stand out in terms of character, but she's not sure that's a good thing. He sees her as a far better person than she knows herself to be. Sometimes, she feels a little guilty that he's so nice to her, and that she allows herself to enjoy it so much.

"That's the idea." Does he know how many people would do just about anything to make him smile like that? It's a tremendous responsibility. She dips a hand into the pouch of pixie dust hanging at her hip before bringing her hand up. The dust clings to her fingertips, but a light puff of breath loosens it to swirl around him. A little goes a long way.

[stands_for_something]

They can agree to disagree, regarding the quality of person she really is.

As the dust settles over him, Steve bows his head for a moment, a slow smile spreading as he reflects on all his happy thoughts. Age hasn't robbed him of joys, it has rather given him time to accumulate them. Perhaps he doesn't shoot to the ceiling, but his rise is a slow, stately one. "Well said."

[brave_heart_verity]

Far be it from her to argue with him. That is not the kind of person Mister Rogers would want her to be.

She doesn't judge about how long or how fast it takes for him. Verity is all too aware of how it wouldn't have worked at all for her not so long ago. Besides, there's a gracefulness in not hurrying. Her ascent follows his pace with no hint of impatience. "Thank you."

That line may have been in the works for a few weeks. Time well spent!

[stands_for_something]

He flashes a grin, and laughs. Yes, he can appreciate a pun, and a stealth pun all the more. Extending a hand to her, he asks, "now that we're up, would you care to cut a cloud or three?"

MOAR PUNS

[brave_heart_verity]

Every time she can get him to laugh is a victory for her. She's got a little scorecard in her head for it and everything. She is just about pleased as punch right now. (Given his costume, his appreciation for puns and wordplay is pretty evident.)

She almost answers 'yes, please'. Again. It's too late to not look overeager, but she's trying to rein herself in. "Of course." Not trying very hard, mind. Her hand in his and with her in position, she'll get to learn how well a man who can't usually fly can dance in three dimensions. Already knowing how well he does on the ground, she's got high hopes.

[stands_for_something]

It's her very own great American pass-time. Let's hear it for the home team!

As for dancing in the sky, well, between his acrobatic antics and his work with the shield, Steve has been thinking in more than two dimensions for quite some time. It's rare that he has the opportunity to apply that experience in such a congenial manner--"down" for other people, subjective, and subject to change for the sake of fun.

[brave_heart_verity]

She's a lucky girl to be on the winning side this time.

It's nice that he gets these congenial times without the inevitable supervillain cutting in. They do so love to crash parties. Weddings. Funerals. Thursday night poker games. Wednesday at the grocery store (it's senior discount day and he's earned it!). She'll do her best to keep up, and keep her wings from getting tangled in the chandeliers and fabulous hats.

[stands_for_something]

Villains have the worst sense of timing. Thankfully, the worst that any here might do is step on one another's feet, and high off the floor, that's not a concern for Verity and her dance partner. "You're good at this," he notes in warm tones.

[brave_heart_verity]

And no manners. Anyone crashing a Thanksgiving meal is more likely to be invited to stay if they bring a nice bottle of wine. More hostess gifts, less hostage taking. They have so much to learn.

"I've got the easy part," she points out with a smile that betrays just how squeeliciously happy she is about that compliment. "All I have to do is trust you."

[stands_for_something]

A villain who showed up at Avengers Mansion with a bottle of wine and a "please may I" would certainly have a better chance, and would be far less likely to end the day in an apron and working at Jarvis' direction.

"Living up to that trust is the challenge," he agrees, knowing full well that's not quite how she meant it, "but I don't plan to let you down."

[brave_heart_verity]

Not making public the pictures of the apron-wearing supervillains cleaning and scrubbing is surely the polite, kind, and politic thing to do. It's also a terrible disappointment for every member of that public body who could use a good laugh.

It's not quite how she meant it, but it's what weighs on his kind. The need to live up to the public trust. The desire to do right by them and for them. It's what makes him a hero. "I know," she assures him quietly. "That's why you never have."

[stands_for_something]

There are things too terrible to do even to one's enemies. As entertaining as it might be in the moment, mercy and restraint are precious things. That, and humiliated supervillains are often prone to tantrums at the expense of their surroundings.

Scratch another tally, Verity, you've made the old man smile again. "Well, thank you."

[brave_heart_verity]

He's a good man. Not everyone would be willing to spare their enemies, and not everyone would consider the consequences of poor choices. But it's not exactly a secret that she could sing his praises for days.

This is a night of victory and accomplishment for her! It's somewhat less of an accomplishment these days to get a smile from her, and never hard for him, but there it is. This one doesn't come alone, however; there's a distinct impression that she's not sure what he's thanking her for, a line of confusion in her expression. She very nearly asks him, 'for what?', but manages to curb that instinct and offer instead, "You're welcome."

[stands_for_something]

Mercy ends more battles than force--people stop fighting much sooner when they know their enemies will let them.

Some things are precious for their rarity, and some things are precious because they are good. Having more of the good doesn't make them any less worthwhile. "You've been practicing, I think," he notes, a stealth compliment for Verity.