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

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[twelve_not_fourteen]

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?"

[maydayqueen]

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."

[twelve_not_fourteen]

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."

[maydayqueen]

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."

[twelve_not_fourteen]

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."

[maydayqueen]

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."

[twelve_not_fourteen]

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."

[maydayqueen]

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.

[twelve_not_fourteen]

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.

[maydayqueen]

Most people guard their feelings in one way or another, and those defenses are rarely perfect or precise. It's the way of things. People need people, whether or not they want to admit it. She'll have to hope he decides knowing her was for the better.

She hums a happy note when his hand moves over her back and takes the opening to cuddle closer to his side. Now his arm's around her and has to stay there. "Maybe not, but it's a great way to keep me happy enough to not want to talk about it. Or maybe I'm just angling for more chances to dance with you."

In that regard, it's a brilliant strategy. The worst outcome she can foresee is his being amused when he declines, and that's not so bad. They're both more than capable of coaxing the other past their comfort zones. It's good for them.

"Hmm?" She blinks up at him, then shakes her head. "Dawn. Start of the new."

[twelve_not_fourteen]

"I like most of the things that keep you happy."

If not because they're enjoyable on their own, simply because they please her is usually enough to tip the scales. It's not that he seeks her out to generate all the happiness he needs, but since it's often a byproduct of them being together, he's come to expect it. Cherish it, even.

Han leans in just a little bit closer and presses a kiss to her lips. Yes, they're in the part of the mansion that his display of affection was bound to be noticed in. No, he doesn't care. They're good looking and infatuated with each other. It's practically expected behavior from a scoundrel, anyway.

"Okay, dawn makes sense." And at least gives them the night together, if ... well, if she would want that.

[maydayqueen]

It'd be unhealthy if they looked to each other as sole sources of delight. But she likes being one of his favorites. So that's why she's looking up at him with that smile. "You make me happy."

Being cherished may well be the most magical thing she's ever known.

Maybe it's kisses. Hard to tell; she does like his kisses so very much and returns them so eagerly. It's only reasonable that they'd want to be affectionate with each other, if only because they make such a handsome couple. He can scoundrel all night long if it means more of those kisses.

"Mm-hmm. And you have to admit, this is a pretty great going-away party. Especially since it's on accident." Another night with him sounds perfect. She hopes they'll both take good memories of tonight away with them.

[twelve_not_fourteen]

"I like me ..." He murmurs, with an almost impish smile spread across his lips. That there's detectable amusement noticeable in his eyes she can consider a personal victory - it's not the easiest thing to amuse him in general, but on this night even more so. "Most of the time."

At her comment about the party, he nods. Schön's residence is even more opulent than he would have imagined having run into him before. To the point where Han stopped to ask himself if it were even possible for anybody like him to amass so much stuff and he leaned toward no. The party was equally as glitzy as the home.

"Anybody who's anybody in the Nexus seems to be here." Then, he thinks to ask, "have you seen Brianne? Or anyone else you would have wanted to see before you ... rest?"

[maydayqueen]

"I like you too," she replies with a giggle that crinkles her nose and the corners of her eyes, "in case you hadn't noticed." It's a splendid victory, to win the heart of a good man. Even a portion of it; it's enough to start. Goodness grows, they say, and love can be contagious.

The accumulated stuff is certainly glittering, and that has its charms, but Frea's not hugely impressed. It's all gilding the lily, in her opinion. (Not that she'll say that out loud; Schön's been forgiving of her mischief, and his kind can be... difficult, even for her. Besides, it'd be rude to insult her host.) They're well-matched in neither of them wanting to collect things.

"Mm, it's nice to have everyone here. Brienne's coming," she confirms lightly. "She promised. I'll make the rounds before the party ends. But sometimes... it might be easier to not tell the professional problem-fixers what's going to happen?"

Clint does not have an arrow for this.

[twelve_not_fourteen]

If goodness grows, then she might be exactly the kind of person he needs to nurture it. She has certainly proven that she is capable of guarding and tending to sensitive life while it's still trying to take root. Han is happy for her attention and for the smiles that touch the bright of her eyes.

"Maybe not."

He's not going to argue with her on that point - she knows her friends better than he does. The Corellian simply knows that if he was the one left to just ... understand that she was gone without a proper goodbye, he'd be hurt. A part of him wonders if she thinks it's a good thing that she doesn't feel the need to shelter him from the goodbye the way she wants to for some others.

As long as she doesn't think that he cares less, he supposes it's not a bad thing per se. At any rate, his hand is once again stroking over the small of her back.

"To the food? I was wondering about what grew best. A lot of the produce and these grains we don't have at home ..."

[maydayqueen]

Frea has every intention of saying goodbye to everyone, but she knows some people (Clint) who take solving other people's problems very seriously would have spent whatever warning she gave them getting themselves into trouble, and possibly making things worse for her. It's in their nature. She doesn't want to make it harder for them.

And it's not like she exactly knows what she's doing.

It's hard to think and worry about all that when he's touching her like that.

"Mm, okay. I hope they have pumpkin pie. That's my favorite fall treat." He may not know what pumpkins are, but he knows about pie, surely? "Should we be terrible examples and start with dessert tonight?"

[twelve_not_fourteen]

That's fair. For all the wisdom she may have inherited, there's no easy answer for what the right way to handle her departure is. On some level, the scoundrel knows as much and tries to be as accepting of that as he can bring himself to be. Though the present thoughts have him wondering if he should take a more Clint-like approach.

Diners exist in a place of long ago and far, far away! Since it's hard to imagine diners without pie, one would assume pies exist - though likely with different fillings than the ones familiar to an Earthling.

"I only know how to be a terrible example of anything." He says with that distinctive smile spread across his lips. "And I'm on a mission to make sure you get everything you want, besides."

[maydayqueen]

Every departure is bound to be different. Learning from example isn't an exact science. She does her best, and that'll have to be good enough--or maybe it won't be, and she'll have a mess on her hands when she gets back, much as she hopes that won't be the case.

Diners with pie as a multiversal constant? She can dig it! New fillings just means more to explore, and she can't see the downside for that either.

"Hmm." She smiles up at him and reaches up to rest a hand on his chest. "Like how you're a terrible example of being terrible?"

[twelve_not_fourteen]

Han presses his calloused palm over top of hers and closes his eyes for a moment - as if he were trying to hang on to commit the way this instant feels into a well-formed memory. He is a tactile person first and foremost, so this kind of gesture means as much (or maybe more) than any string of words to him.

Then it dawns on him that her hand is colder than it should be and he starts trying to rub some warmth into it. Those hazel eyes open and look down at her.

"There's room for improvement even for me."

[maydayqueen]

The tactile nature of their relationship has never been lacking, she hopes. She's never found it to be. This is a good moment to remember, and she's drinking it in too. The soft beating of his heart, the way his smile creeps out the corners of his mouth, the warmth.

She hums with pleasure when he rubs her hand. It's nice to be taken care of in these little ways.

"A very little room," she assures him with a smile that's bright as ever. "Tiny, really."

[twelve_not_fourteen]

He's not a man that people often associate with warmth. It's a part of him. It's just a side of him that most will never get to see - only the people that he loves, really. Someday, maybe, he'll become someone who isn't so afraid of being hurt and then people might see him differently.

For now, he's content to keep that smile to himself and a select few.

"Now, the words seem like they could be sarcastic, but the look in your eyes seem to be kinda fond of what they're looking at." He points out. It's not like Frea to give a backhanded compliment, though, so he's leaning towards the fact that she's endeared to him.

He settles his hand into hers, so that they can begin walking again. He could make eyes at her all night, but there's pie to eat somewhere. "Do you know where the food is from here, darling?"

[maydayqueen]

He may keep it hidden, but there has to be some fire in him. How else would he keep warm in space? She doesn't mind that she gets to enjoy his smile more than other people. It's nice that it's special.

Perfection is out of her reach as much as his, however much some people might want to argue about that. She knows that she is what she is. Not being inclined to seriousness isn't usually something she considers a personal failing, but if he thought she was trying to insult him she'd have to reassure him very seriously indeed. "Very fond," she assures him without hesitation. "But still inclined to tease."

Her fingers curl into the spaces between his while they walk. The question gets a thoughtful hum from her before her head lifts and her nostrils flare while she takes in a deep breath. Pumpkin spice is an easy smell to follow. "This way."

If he can stand to let her take the lead, she'll thread a path through the crowd to the dining room. There's more food than he could eat in a week, birdlike as he is; there's more food than even she could try to coax him to eat in a week.

[twelve_not_fourteen]

He eats as much as he cares to. To be fair, when there's more manual work going on, he has more of an appetite. And there is a certain portion of his diet that comes in the form of liquid calories. Nexus life has him sitting a little than he's accustomed too - ship repair work notwithstanding.

At any rate, he loves that she fuses over him despite a certain amount of posturing towards the contrary. He can count the number of people who really care for him on one hand.

"It's a pretty good spread." As far as he can tell in looking over the table of food. There's only so much of it that's from his home. "I never thought about it till now, but are you a goddess like ... everywhere?"

Or is she specific to one place at one time? The Nexus' goddess of spring versus the predominant spring entity throughout the whole multiverse ...

http://bit.ly/2li03dE

[maydayqueen]

If he insists on a liquid diet, the bar has him covered. But the food smells so good. His sedentary lifestyle has been at least in part his own choice; she's always happy to keep him busy. With walks and things, too.

She will fuss over him as much as he allows. She will love him as much as she cares to with or without his permission--though it's much more fun with him as her accomplice in that scheme.

"Mm-hmm." Frea's got her eye on the desserts, wondering which pumpkiny delight to go for first, but the question has her full attention once he asks it. She hums softly and thinks about it, and takes the opportunity to tuck herself up against him again with her head on his chest that way she does when she wants to be held. "Well.. that depends on what you mean. I am what I am wherever I go, but not everywhere is officially my responsibility. Does that make sense?"

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[twelve_not_fourteen]

He likes walks with Frea, but he likes things even better. That she's willing to help him be more active in all kinds of ways pleases him a lot. Han does know the value of offering another person a certain amount of space, though. The May Queen, in particular, has a lot of responsibilities he doesn't want to keep her from - most of the time ...

She can curl up into him and for all of the posturing, he would never turn away from her embrace. Even if the whole damn nexus was watching. When Captain Solo lets someone in, he lets them in profoundly. He's always been that way, as far as he can figure. Sometimes he even finds a way to see that as a good thing.

"Like being a Captain on someone else's ship." That's the metaphor he jumped to, but he could be off base. He leans in a little to press a kiss into her straw-colored hair - a silent apology if his question had rubbed her the wrong way.

"Show me which one is the pumpkin. There's more than a couple of pies on this table."