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  |
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"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.
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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."
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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.
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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.
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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?"
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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.
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"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 ..."
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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?"
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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."
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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?"
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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."
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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."
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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?"
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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.
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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
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?"
https://tinyurl.com/zal7jhr, https://tinyurl.com/hdwebn9
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."
sorry sorry sorry sorry
There are things and things. She's determined to find some kind of game he likes to play that's not sitting around a table with shady types. (Nothing wrong with shady types, but she's a full sun kind of flower.) Maybe he'll like horses, or boats. Something. They'll figure it out. Maybe next season he can come with her when she's working, some of the time. Another thing to figure out.
Growing means changing, branching out. She intends to have a lush canopy.
He might not always see his whole-hearted acceptance of people as a good thing, but she'll see it that way for him when he's having trouble. Seeing the silver lining is a specialty of hers. One she's happy to share.
"Right!" She beams up at him, pleased and grateful he found words for something she's had such trouble articulating. And then a kiss, what a lucky girl she is. A rumbling little purr of contentment escapes and she's not really ashamed, but she'll resist the urge to nuzzle him like a cat while they're in public.
"Oh, right. It's this one, the orange custard." She'll help herself to a generous slice, that is of course topped with a good spoonful of whipped cream, but the first bite is offered to him. "Here. If it's not for you, we'll find you something else."
Her priority is finding what he likes, not finding that he likes what she likes. There's plenty of options, after all.
Nbd. Wb.
"That's a bright color." He comments. When the fork is lifted to him, he takes it into his own hand - the difference in their heights would make it tough for her to lift it up to him - and he takes a bite.
What he's surprised by is that he tastes spice before the sweetness and when it comes, it doesn't become cloyingly sweet. The texture is good too. Smooth. Hard to believe it's some kind of gourd and not a pudding. He puts the fork back into his mouth to make sure he left it clean.
"Mmmm." Han says with an agreeable nod, handing her back the fork. "That's pretty good."
Thanku
"Yes, pumpkins are very cheery," she agrees with a smile and a relinquished fork. The lack of a proper view does make trying to feed him a little more difficult. There are ways... but they don't usually involve forks.
Frea watches him with a smile that shifts from hopeful to pleased. She's spent enough time watching him to learn some of the tells--he's enjoying it. It's nice to share things, and better when they're favored.
"Good! I had a feeling you'd like the spices." It might sound like bragging, but she means it as a reassurance: she's watching, she's learning, she's remembering; getting to know him is important to her. "Next year, let's try making it with some Corellian spices."
Yw
In fact, that she's put in the energy to know his preferences and for her to treat him well means a whole lot more to him than he's let on so far. Growing up under the heel of a harsh 'benefactor' and other people who didn't really care if he lived or died - it makes the idea of affection confounding sometimes.
Why should anyone care about him? He's never been special.
"If we were going to do that-" the spices, he means. "- would we be growing them here? Or am I gonna be importing them."
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"Well, I think it's safe to say I can grow pretty much anything. It would help to start with seeds, but... we'll figure something out." It's not like she has to worry about the particulars right at this moment. For now, she'll bask in the warm glow of having had an idea that pleases him. "I'm sure it'll be very popular. And if our fabulous new fusion style pies win any awards, I'll let you keep all the ribbons."
The decor of the Falcon could use some color.
"I'm surprised you haven't run across pumpkin spice before, it's kind of everywhere this time of year." She'll grab another fork for herself and then take his arm again. They can check out the rest of the spread while they finish the pie. "I love it." She tries to declare this whole-heartedly, but it's a bittersweet kind of appreciation for her.
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Wouldn't that be something?She's earned his warmth and the smile that matches it. Sunnier than what you'd expect from him, but then, it's not as if he's the only thing you can find in nature that grows toward the light.
"I've been guilty of seeking out what I know a little more than normal." Since he's been in the nexus and you can't entirely blame him for that. The multiverse is expensive and he's spent a lot of his time here homesick. "Spring goddesses aside."
Good thing Captain Solo has coordination to spare. Walking and eating at the same time is not for the clumsy. He gestures to a dish that he finds on the table.
"What's that?"
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After such a good long time in the sun, he should be offering a bounty of good things. Those smiles are a lovely harvest. She'll take them all and savor each and every one. "That's not a crime, Han." A soft tone and a smile reinforce her words. "That's human."
Walking and eating and talking is a hat trick of begging for a mess. She'll do two out of three (and no, not talking and eating, she's not entirely uncivilized). Whenever they stop to look at something, she sneaks a bite of pie. Looking over the pear he points out gives her time for a second bite. Indulgence.
"Mmm. Baked pear, it's a fruit kind of like an apple. Looks like it's got cheese there, and walnuts and honey. And some thyme. It's probably as much savory as sweet... something you'd like I think?"
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Sometimes he misses a warning he should have noticed sooner. Sometimes he oversteers. Something about the way things went just before the subject changed to pears makes him wonder if he missed something. The look on those roguish features suggests a slight confusion and maybe a touch of sadness, but it doesn't keep long. There's food to be talking about ...
"I'm gonna take one." He says, matter of factly. You don't lay things out like this for them not to be taken - he'd suppose - but the idea of a party has always felt strange to him even when he was at them.
He grabs another plate and a fork. Helps himself to one of the bigger portions of the baked fruit and scans around the room. Now that they're both gonna be carrying food maybe they should sit down? That's what he thinks.
"Let's go somewhere and eat."
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