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

[oathstokeep]

Feasting wherever and whenever. It's what is wise to do when harsh weather is to come and indulgence is unwise.

Oh if she were only more steadfast and less flustered! Brienne takes in little sips of air. Already her eyes have begun to water. Everything has it's time. Frea just said just for a little while. Must she bawl like a babe? She sniffs and remembers not to rub at her face because of the powders and items they prettied each other with. "I won't forget you!"

[maydayqueen]

To feast and fatten before the winter is a primal survival tactic. Nothing to be ashamed of there, either. If only they could huddle together and hibernate.

Oh, dear. Frea's grown so used to Brienne being the strong and stoic one. Her own eyes are glassy with tears, but she sniffles and blinks them back so she can support her dear friend. "I know. I won't forget you, either. Come on." If Brienne allows, she'll find herself steered off the dance floor and into a quiet corner of another room where they can talk and be emotional without many witnesses.

[oathstokeep]

This is proven time and again one must prepare for winter. It's not just the words of House Stark, and no where close to prophetic. Everything has it's time. In joy, in spring time, it seems that no cold shall ever come down.

It has been quite some time that she was upset to tears. Nexus has given her so many smiles and laughs. While she is still quiet and reserved compared to Frea, it's never been this. Sniffling again she feels like a great blubbering thing and is easily guided away now. Small inhales keep her from making much of a sound.

Dear me, speaking would be appropriate right now. But what to say? Gods where is her tongue? Brienne squeezes Frea's hand. "I don't--I don't mean to make a scene."

[maydayqueen]

Remembering and preparing for winter in the midst of spring isn't the most possible fun in the moment, but that leaves room to remember and prepare for spring in the midst of winter. Balance.

"Shh. You aren't." Frea nudges Brienne into a sofa and curls up against her side. Her head on Brienne's shoulder and dabbing away the tears with her fingertips. "Shh. All will be well. All will be well. All manner of thing shall be well."

Don't look at her too closely. There's a glistering of tears in her lashes, too.

[oathstokeep]

Winter was a scary story at night. The Long Summer was thought to continue on and on, the Seven Gods of Westeros were supposed to be kind in the end. Ah, Brienne remembers herself though. She isn't in the familiar kingdoms. All the lessons learned don't always apply here. Another place to find balance, to learn more to prepare herself for whatever comes next, battle or celebration.

Such a well placed sofa that it is, and sturdy and large to hold them both. Her eyes screw shut to try and put up a dam for these tears. In the end, no matter the size, she is still a tender-hearted maiden.

"W-when must you go?" How much more time do they have together? Brienne's arms go around the other woman. She's welcome to lay and rest wherever.

[maydayqueen]

If Brienne seeks all her kindnesses in the end, then she shouldn't seek it yet. This is not the end.

Frea shifts in Brienne's arms so they can settle together comfortably. "Soon. Not yet. Not yet." This is reinforced with the punctuation of a kiss on the tip of Brienne's nose. "And I'll be back soon. You'll have such stories to tell me when I'm back, hmm?"

Because of course Brienne will be there... won't she?

[oathstokeep]

Kindness at all, really. That was a hope of hers. Now her eyes have been opened. There is kindness like there are blades of grass or sunshine. Once you see them in the world it's easier to pick them out and appreciate each.

Together and close like they are any other day, any other place. Why not here? Why not among friends? Brienne's nose scrunches at the kiss. Despite herself, despite the sorrow in her heart she laughs at the sweetness of it. "Oh yes. I shall. I'll wait for you," in truest Brienne of Tarth fashion, making an oath. One that she means. Her clutch at Frea is still present. They have time still.

[maydayqueen]

The world is infinitely full of kindness for a kind soul like Brienne. Maybe not every world, but the one where she belongs. And it must be where she belongs, because it's full of kindness for her. Doesn't that work out splendidly?

There's no reason for this place and time to be any different than the other evenings they've spent together. Well. There will be some allowances for the fact they're in public... "No. Don't wait," she insists, quite firmly. "Live. Live, and do things, and be wonderful. And then come back."

[oathstokeep]

Brienne knew that she had no hope of ever fitting in even if she tried. She had never fathomed that she was not meant for the world literally. Here there is minimal effort to be appreciated as a person, as a woman, no matter what size or status. Frea helped her see that this world was home. Strange as it is.

She sniffs again and laughs. It makes her bow her head to Frea to press forehead to forehead. "Yes...yes. We'll be here again, and-and we'll still dance." And sing and do other things. Her cheeks heat and Brienne presses her own kiss to Frea's lips.

[maydayqueen]

The truth is often stranger than fiction. This place may be strange, but it's allowed them to be more true to themselves and each other. And that honesty helps make it home. (The reasoning might be circular, but circles are fun!)

Frea tilts her chin up into the kiss, relieved that Brienne's seeing past the sorrow a bit and wanting to encourage that. "Mm, yes. Dance and sing and tell each other new stories. It'll be wonderful."