nexus_sages | Samhain Ball Redux - Second Star to the Right

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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.

((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.))
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"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.

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.

"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?"

"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.

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 ..."

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?"

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."

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?"

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."

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."

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?"

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.

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 ...

Edited 2017-02-05 18:07 (UTC)

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?"

Edited 2017-02-08 02:01 (UTC)

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."

Edited 2017-02-08 21:57 (UTC)

[Snow + Valentine's + the cold from hell + multiple Drs + work drama has been exhausting.]

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.

He does really seem to get a lot out of sitting in dives full of questionable people and playing a few hands of cards. That's not to say there might not be other things he'll like to do, but that's one of his most favorite. Even in uneasy circumstances, it has a way of settling him - though he doesn't get outside of his own norms often enough. Branching out is good for people and he suspects that Frea is a great person to branch out with.

"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."

There are things that thrive in shady places, and they're beautiful too. Finding a deck of cards and a predictable set of rules comforting is understandable, with the right point of view, and she doesn't fault him for it. If they'll both be branching out, she should try his way of things too. What's good for the goose...

"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."

The fact that she's getting to know him is not lost on Han.

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."

To counter his negative self-image, just look at her: could she look at anyone like that if they weren't special? Yes, he knows her well enough to have seen she's very optimistic in her assessment of people, but also that she isn't without judgment. And right now she's looking at him like he's the whole world.

"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.

He wouldn't dream of trying to understand why she looks at him that way. It's a heck of a mystery, that honestly, he's not in a rush to solve. He's not complaining, though. It makes him feel good that she does. Since he's a man not above faking it till he makes it, perhaps he can get to a point where all that talk about himself becomes true.

~~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?"

She does love making him feel good. It'd be something wonderful to see him blossom into his full potential. The seeds are there, and the land is fertile. Now all they need is for him to be brave.

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?"

Conversations, sometimes, remind him of the control console of a starship. It's up to you to pay attention to what's going on - look for the alerts, of which, some are benign and some are very important to correct immediately. The thing of it is, he's a lot better at being a pilot than he is at conversations.

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."

Edited 2017-03-13 12:19 (UTC)

Sometimes he sees things that aren't there. A little teasing, no warnings. Except perhaps a reminder that she's mischief, but has he really forgotten? His confusion is met with a little shrug and a soft touch on his arm. If only she could take away all those touches of sorrow.

"Okay! I like it when you're brave." She gives him an encouraging smile. The beautiful thing about a buffet is being able to take as much as they like of whatever looks good. And she's never going to suggest he eat less. While he maneuvers around the pears, she adds a scoop of apples in cream to her own plate.

This may be a desserts-only evening. Seems fitting.

"That's a good idea." There's little tables here and there, and they might even be able to find one where he can sit with his back to the wall if he feels the need. Would he mind making room for her in his lap? It might not make for the easiest eating arrangements, but it's the only seat she wants.

He is a study of paradoxes in some ways. Virtually everyone he meets he's trying to convince that he doesn't care about much of anything and yet, if you manage to get through all of his defenses and work your way close to his heart ... he'll worry endlessly.

Loved ones. A rare and precious commodity in the life of Han Solo.

And he certainly does worry about the things he says and does around the May Queen. On some level, he knows that he is his own worst enemy when it comes to keeping people close. His head and his heart often feel like opposing forces. All he knows is that he wants to impress her. Wants to give her reasons to want to come back to him. If he can keep doing that, some of this is bound to go right. It has to.

On the subject of seats, Han is definitely used to having his back to the wall. It's a hell of a place to be sometimes, but it at least puts everyone in front of you - that much he likes about the position. Whether he goes to that place because he likes it or because it's familiar, even he's not really sure.

Her picking his lap, of all places, is met with a flicker of surprise - but it's very quickly replaced by a roguish smile. It wouldn't have been his idea to put her there. The scoundrel in him loves the idea, though.

"Oh, I see you've found the best seat in the house." He murmurs. "Make yourself comfy."

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maydayqueen - 2017-03-22 22:14 (UTC) - Expand

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twelve_not_fourteen - 2017-03-22 23:13 (UTC) - Expand

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Samhain Ball Redux - Second Star to the Right

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http://bit.ly/2li03dE

https://tinyurl.com/zal7jhr, https://tinyurl.com/hdwebn9

sorry sorry sorry sorry

Nbd. Wb.

Thanku

Yw

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