(A.N.)---just a warning, this story does not get any lighter than it is now. and in some areas it gets darker.
please review. i can't stress how motivating reviews/comments are! ^_^ let me know if you like it. let me know if you don't. just let me know!
she sees creatures behind the glass/crying with a voice she heard once in a childhood dream/falling through a window she once shattered/clawing her face to escape wings that beat inside her head...
~ The Shroud (Long Ago and Far Away)~ * ~ * ~ * ~
Chapter Four: Lelouproi
Sarah's eyes snapped open. It happened so quickly that she wasn't quite certain if she had actually been asleep, or had simply blinked. A world had changed though. One of dim grey light had melted into something colder, something with shadowed edges that were still as sharp as a razor. She pushed herself up slowly, easing some pain that had seemingly seeped from the ground and settled into her very bones. And then she froze, her last breath rattling past her lips into a choked gasp. He was painfully distinct in the moonlight, its cold illumination pouring over him like silver water. Grudgingly, she stared. He was splendid haloed by the dark night, the trees like timeless black forms looming over and around them. His eyes moved over her calmly, as if he had been waiting for her to discover him, as if he had been waiting hours and was now trying to make certain that she was aware of him and it wasn't just a trick of light and shadow.
She was going to say something, she didn't know what, but she felt it rising up from somewhere inside her that was mythic and inconsistent. His hand raised, and just like that her mouth obeyed, the fluid movement being enough to cut her words off at the root.
"Your next words were going to be---'is this a dream'." He swept to her side, knelt before she had time to think or react. "Well, is it?"
She drew back, not from his words, but from his swiftness. He had all the grace of a predator, all the beauty, and the ability to unnerve her simply by moving. She shook her head, her long hair slipping smoothly over her shoulders. "I don't know," she whispered, her wide, dark eyes running over his face slowly, as if she were looking for a rip or flaw. She avoided his mismatched eyes until it became apparent, until her feelings of cowardice forced her to raise her gaze and jump into his.
He nodded, just a pale movement that stirred his gold hair. Patiently he took up her unwilling hand. "Go ahead," he urged quietly, laying her open palm along his cheek. "Do you know now?"
Sarah could feel the words as he said them, she could feel his jaw moving beneath the captured hand he was holding to his face. She shook her head numbly.
"It isn't so easy, is it," he said. "Sorting reality from what is real---they say this is the place where dreams come without sleep and sleep comes without dreams."
"If that is true then you are a dream."
He smiled, some secret humour in his glittering eyes. "Are you certain you are awake?"
"Of co . . ." her voice trailed into nothingness as she stared at him, appearing to not see him at all. "O god, I don't know."
Her hand slipped from his face almost limply as she rose. She traveled a few steps then stopped, turned back with vacant, thoughtful eyes. "If I am asleep and this is a dream . . .then this is real." Her logic was screaming 'What?!', but she pushed it away, almost harshly. There was nothing logical about logic when it came to the predicament she was in. "But," her hand raised to her forehead as if she feared it would fall apart. "If I'm really awake, then you're really a dream . . ."
"And now you begin to understand the Middleground," he stood, his arms crossing lightly over his breast.
Her eyes climbed over him, stared past him into the cradling darkness of one tree. She didn't know what she was hoping to find there. Something, anything to chase away the new edge of doubt that was infecting her. "I don't understand anything," she whispered under her breath. "Nothing at all."
He shook his head, eyes closing softly over some glint she had not seen. "Not true. You understand how dangerous this realm is. That's really all you need to know."
Sarah had learned long ago the use of dwelling on things that could not be changed. That there was none. If he was a dream and real, or real and a dream---there was no way to know. At least, not yet. He seemed real enough, but if that was the case then she was having the most realistic dream of her life. The silence continued where she poured over the riddles of what he said, and he studied the thoughtful expressions that flew across her face. Neither truly noticed the other. But she did notice something---that Loki was gone. She tried not to look for him so obviously, just swung her eyes around as if searching for insight. Wait---wait a minute! I must be asleep and dreaming! For . . . Her confusion only tangled more.
"Close your eyes, Sarah, and go back. There is something begging your attention," he said coolly, and she found herself obeying before she had time to think about it. Her eyes snapped opened, but it was already too late. He was gone.
"Am I awake now?" she whispered to herself, pushing away from the ground. Odd thing to ask, but she was serious. She didn't feel any different---only like she had closed her eyes for a second. She looked around and sighed with relief when she saw Loki curled comfortably upon the ground, his silver hair a silk spill of beauty.
Something else, her moment of relief shattered as the familiar sensation washed over her. She searched about their makeshift camp frantically. There. Within the shadow of one tree she found a deeper darkness, and two points of light that were watching her carefully. She gasped; she couldn't help it. And as soon as the sound passed her lips Loki was there, awake and concerned.
"What is it?!"
His eyes swung to the deeper darkness as it stepped forward, giving black highlights of blue in the moonlight. The shadows peeled back piece by piece, showing first a pair of powerful paws, teeth, obsidian eyes, attentive ears. The wolf stopped conveniently, as if it knew exactly where the light and darkness met. Sarah had never seen a wolf in the wild, but she knew two things about them. ---Two things that made this chance meeting very peculiar--- One, it was alone while wolves, by nature, were very social creatures. And two, it had approached them. Unless starving or mad, a wolf would generally avoid people. Generally. Of course, this was the Middleground and she was swiftly coming to the conclusion that this was no general wolf.
It seemed that Loki had come to the same conclusion. He stood away from her and even backed up some. That was a surprise, but a bigger surprise came when the wolf raised a paw to its head and slipped the glossy ebony fur back. The 'wolf' fell away like a costume. Indeed, a tall man now stood in its place, with the empty fur loose in his hand. He smiled at her, pale and black eyes twinkling. Nude, but casual---no, natural. Sarah found her eyes falling over his newly exposed body before the different parts made sense. When they did she fought hiding her eyes behind her hands like some shocked schoolgirl.
"Do you seek safe passage?"
"Are you the Guardian of the Woods?" Loki answered. Sarah could very nearly feel the weight of their political dancing, but said nothing. She was still recovering from the 'realness' of his body and costume, if you chose to call it that. For sight's sake---he HAD been a wolf.
"The wolves are the Guardians of the Woods, and I am their King." He glanced to her when he said this, as if he had interest in her reaction. "Who are you?" Maybe he wasn't interested in her reaction after all.
She had to swallow twice to get it out---he impressed her so. "Sarah," she paused, then decided a little courtesy couldn't hurt, "Your Majesty." His smile widened at that, and she felt his eyes imprinting her image with her name, just as she had done, but clearly not in the same context. Never one to stand well under scrutiny, she turned curious eyes to Loki and blushed.
"Your hair," the Wolf King said, "It is very beautiful."
Sarah still had not found an end to her confusion in this realm; she nodded politely and tried to smile. "Thank you." Loki was smiling too, but his seemed composed of less effort. Her purpose wriggled back into her thoughts, after having fled so quickly. "May we have safe passage?" We've had our pleasantries---Please, please, I just want to get through this and get home.
The Wolf King flung the jet fur over his shoulder, casual like it was a coat, and made a wide ushering gesture with his free arm. There was a slight bow to his head. "How could I refuse such a lovely young lady . . . But certainly you realize the dangers of wandering around in the dark," he paused long enough to grin, flashing the delicately sharp canines of a wolf. "Join me at my court, indulge in our hospitality, and we will make sure no harm comes to you," he glanced to Loki as if an after-thought, "Or your companion."
She turned to Loki, face open and asking if this sounded trust-worthy and reasonable. What she was really praying for was an intervention. This---Lelouproi seemed so over-powering, his very aura reaching out and stroking against her own. It was as if the wolf was real and the man was the costume. She had very odd flashes on a certain Grimm faerie tale.
Loki did not come to her rescue, only shrugged and mouthed the words 'your guess is as good as mine'. Sarah turned back with as much graciousness as she could scrape together, not failing to grasp the fragility of their situation. "We would be---very grateful, your Majesty." Grateful? She was thinking more along the lines of 'fearful'. She had no real reason to distrust the Wolf King's word, but it was difficult to place your faith in the hands of someone whose teeth were sharp enough to snap through your bones. She was determined to try if it got them out from under the shade of the black trees---if it got them any closer to the castle.
Without further ado Sarah fetched her book bag, wrapped her arm through the wolf's and followed him into the foliage, despite her unwillingness to be so near a man in such a severe state of undress. The only thing that kept her from darting was the dull sound of Loki's steps behind them. It, however, did not keep her breath from trying to speed on ahead of her. She found that if she focused on keeping each breath even some of the fear disappeared in her concentration. And every bit of it and then some returned when a lone cry spiraled up into the black sky.
They had stopped within a clearing before a circle of felled trees, and the Wolf King was trying to lead her to the centre. Sarah might not have been so resistant if she didn't have to wade through at least two-dozen attentive wolves. She pressed closer to her escort as each one she passed inclined a nose or paw to her curiously. She looked back at Loki to find him not quite so unnerved. He moved through the sea of brushing fur with a straight back and disinterest in his eyes. The clenching of his jaw was the only thing that betrayed him. He caught her looking and smiled, raising his hand in some sort of salute.
The moonlight was far more pure in the clearing---it gave her a more open view of the Wolf King. He was indeed as white as alabaster---eyes as black obsidian, and dark hair that fell to his chin in odd layers. It looked more like black fur than hair. He was beautiful, if one could not determine between 'exotic' and 'attractive'. He even looked wolfish, with an odd line to his face. Or maybe she was looking too hard.
She snapped her eyes away when she realized she was staring and one of the nearest wolves let out an odd bark that sounded suspiciously like laughter. The ruddy colour climbed higher into her cheeks. This was all she needed---but she felt so tender amongst all those mouths full of sharp teeth. The Wolf King patted her hand reassuringly as it rested on his arm. It might have been reassuring if he wasn't a *Wolf King*---and naked to boot!
"Don't pay attention to them. It's just been so long since we've had any guests," he said. She watched him wave a hand through the air and they all backed away, head lowered to the ground obediently. Their gaze still followed her with some emotion she had never seen in a human's eyes. She shivered. Now wait a minute, I stood against the Goblin King and won . . .and he was certainly more intimidating than *this* king. She straightened instantly under her comfortable arrogance. That's all it was, that's all he had become to her. A defense mechanism, a reason to be reckless and superior. But as the saying goes, if it works don't fix it. She had no delusions about how pathetic it really was. But when she was acting under its guidance she had no time to think about how much he affected her daily life.
He sat her upon the largest of the uprooted trees, placed the book bag on the ground and took her hand between both of his. She, of course, noted the odd length and pointed sharpness of his fingernails, but smiled genteelly up into his mirthful eyes.
"I'm afraid, your Majesty, that the morning will take me and my companion away, but we would be happy to keep your company until then." She paused to force a warm and hopeful edge to her voice. "If you would grant us safe passage through your grand Kingdom---we would be so grateful."
"And believe me, kind thoughts from one so lovely would indeed be a worthy price, but there is a small favour we must ask of you in return." The Wolf King's mouth curved just as arrogantly as her own, and the sharp angles of his face hinted at amusement. Sarah's skill in acting dictated her words and kept her expression schooled, though her breast was tightening with the thought of what the word 'favour' might translate into.
"Oh?" she turned to him as he sat down beside her. Her hand, still clasped in his, rested upon his bare knee. She was certain he had caught her shock at first seeing him, he was now trying to inspire it in her again. She didn't hesitate. Besides, she wasn't so ignorant that she didn't know the basics of a man's body. She was already over the fact---as long as she kept her eyes above his shoulders. "What favour, your Majesty?"
His smile reflected charmingly as he unwound his hands from hers. His then free hands raised and began combing the dark hair back from her face. He tilted his head as if he were trying to unravel some mystery. Sarah counted herself as a splendid actress, and she congratulated herself on the act she put up so far, but she could not help how she tensed under the intimacy of his attentions. Out of the corner of her eye she could see the wolves crowding closer, curiously, as if they had caught an odd scent on the air. She couldn't throw so much care to them. Their King's knees had brushed her own and reeled her thoughts back to him.
And she did think about it actually, she placed both sides on a scale and attempted to stand unbiased between the two. He was attractive and---she tried to keep her eyes still---well proportioned. The press of the wolves almost pressed her into the idea, but she steeled herself. She wasn't a whore, no matter how pretty the penny---she would find other ways, or no way at all. She very definitely reached up and stilled his hands upon her, smiled.
"I'm sorry, but I will not be apart of the bargain."
Oh, indeed, he seemed disappointed with her sweet words, but he sat back and took up her hand again, both. "A lady's wishes must be respected, though it is quite a shame." Sarah blinked as his grin came back to his odd face, the pointed teeth making him seem so much more threatening then the good humour in his eyes. "That was merely a suggestion."
"Then . . .what is the favour?" She was very calm as his hand raised again and swept up one of the locks of her ebony-brown hair. He presented it to her between long white fingers.
"My hair?" He nodded as her confusion fled into disbelief, her next words came out on a monotone wind. "You want my hair."
"It is of a glorious texture and length. It could suit so many."
She didn't know what he was talking about, nor did she really want to. She focused on her hair as it fell in rich waves about her face and down to her lower back. Her hair? The only thing that she felt was truly beautiful about her . . .could she give it up? What a conceited little beast you are! It's only hair! It will grow back! "My hair for safe passage?"
He nodded once, eagerly, a sharp up and down movement.
She nodded as well, took two handfuls of it and held it out to him as Loki's eyes widened. "It's yours."
The Wolf King immediately sat up straighter and motioned someone forward. It was just then that she realized all the wolves were gone. Her gaze passed between face after face of obsidian eyes. Their pale skin looked cold in the moonlight, though they showed no outer response to it. The only distinct way to know it was the wolves was the fur either laid out at their feet or in their hands. One of them stepped past her and out of the circle, he returned moments later with a blade the length of her forearm. It was of simple design, but that did not make it any less distressing.
She fought trembling, she fought swallowing as she felt tress after tress of her hair being lifted and cut through. The blade was sharp, sharp enough that it required no 'sawing' or 'chopping'. The strands fell away so easily that it was over in what seemed like seconds. The man now held the knife in one hand and her hair in the other. At his King's nod he disappeared.
Sarah couldn't help it. She raised her hands and smoothed them down what was left of her impressive mane. It stopped at mid-cheek in somewhat pointed ends. She tried not to think about it, tried not to hear the voice that was crying 'My hair! My hair!' in alarmed tones. Your hair or your body? The voice promptly shut up.
She was still musing blindly on her hair when the King stood up. Her eyes, which might have been a little wide, swung numbly up to him. They passed over his body in that one motion, but even that wasn't enough to break through. "Thank you for your sacrifice, my dear lady. And now that it has been finalized," he grasped her hand and urged her to stand, "Please do not leave tomorrow without a word of farewell first."
She quickly agreed, thinking it was over and wishing only to return to Loki's side. As odd as that seemed to her, but she was beginning to value his companionship more and more. In the light of other possible companions, that is. But the King squeezed her hand and led her out of the circle of trees. She glanced to Loki to make sure he was following, but her escort stopped her after a few steps and brought her attention back to him.
"You must sleep now," he said softly, and as innocently as a Wolf King possibly could. Surprise fell over Sarah's face as several of the 'wolves' swept away in graceful rushes and reappeared with arms full of leaves. Leaves that they laid before her. Loki stepped up to her side with muted curiosity in his gold eyes, but the King looked to her as he said, "You may sleep here, if it is to your liking."
Sarah didn't want to go back to sleep and dream more dreams of reality. A reality where the Goblin King spoke in cryptic riddles and made her feel as if he cared about her outcome. She didn't want him to care---because if it wasn't real then she was going to slip into some emotion she could feel on the edge of her being, but couldn't understand. If she believed it . . .she wouldn't believe it.
Loki placed her book bag down upon the bed of leaves, and her skin tinted at the thought of how she had forgotten it. His silver hair was no less bright in the dimmer moonlight that fell upon it. "We thank you for your hospitality, your Majesty," it was his turn to speak for the both of them. The leaves did not look inviting, but what could she expect from a King whose court was a circle of trees? Beside that, it was no worse than the ground he had woke her from. She still did NOT want to go back to sleep.
The Wolf King hardly acknowledged Loki; his obsidian eyes seemed only for her. She summoned one of her cooler smiles and disengaged her hand from his. "This will do quite nicely, your Highness. Our sincerest thanks." And with that she moved to Loki's side. The Wolf King nodded then turned back to his own people. Sarah watched in amazement as they all slipped back into their costumes. They, too, seemed to be preparing for sleep.
"Is it done?" she asked of Loki after sitting down beside him in the leaves. He shrugged. "Can we trust him?" she whispered. He shrugged yet again.
"I believe so," he continued more vocally when it appeared she would fly into a mad rage.
"You believe so?"
"What do you want from me? I know only so much about this place. If I knew for certain I would tell you. But I am exhausted, Sarah, and I am willing to sleep under the chance of it being a lie. If you're not, then don't."
She blinked at his tone. It wasn't like him to be so serious that she fully believed every word. "Can I ask you a favour before you lie down?"
One eyebrow raised and he seemed genuinely interested. "A favour? Of me?" She almost took her words back, but he was going on. "Please do, whatever it is---I am certain it is the least of what I owe you."
"Is there," she swallowed back the little voice that told her she was being too dramatic and silly. That she was putting too much focus on something so trivial. But she didn't care. She had to at least try. "Is there anything you can do about my hair?"
He stared at her for a full minute before the laughter came. And then he choked it down to keep from grasping too much of the wolves' attention. He placed one elbow upon his knee and cradled his chin in his hand, eyes dancing upon her. "You are precious, do you know that?"
"Just forget it," she sighed.
"No no no! I mean it. Come here." She thought he was motioning her to him, but in his hand appeared a reflective piece of glass that flashed against the light of the moon. A mirror that he placed within her hands. He pushed his velvet sleeve back to reveal a leather knife sheathe.
"What are you doing?"
"Well, I thought I was going to do something about your hair. If that is all right with you?"
She gave him long glances of speculation as he started combing his fingers through her hair, but did not pull back---Even when the knife glinted through it. She closed her eyes and did not think about what he was doing. She thought, instead, of how she was going to take a long hot bath when she got home. And how she was going to explain her hair to Karen. She decided she wasn't going to explain her hair to Karen. She was allowed to change, wasn't she?
"There. All done." Loki was positioning her head so that she faced forward, twisting enough so he could see better. That meant he had rose to his knees and was leaning over her, she hadn't even noticed until he spoke.
"It looks horrible," she said to the dissatisfied reflection.
"Nonsense," he snapped sharply, "it looks very stylish and modern." Modern meant short, stylish meant strange. Her dark hair hit about mid-cheek, falling all around her eyes. It was odd to feel the night air on her neck, to not feel its weight upon her shoulders. She had never realized how heavy it was until it was gone.
And then a peculiar thought came to her, an odd thought---a thought she should never have spoken. "He wouldn't like it."
Loki's head tilted to the side inquisitively, "You don't think so?"
The stirring of her hair awed her when she shook her head. It swung freely and whipped into her face. It would definitely take some getting used to.
"I think he would. It gives your neck a more graceful curve."
At that she made some very unbecoming noise through the purse of her lips. "Please, Loki. Just tell me it looks horrible and let's be done with it."
"Okay," he drew the word out as if it took much of his concentration, "It looks horrible." After that the silence became so dominant that the night seemed to deepen around them. The stillness of the non-existent wind became second nature, and even the wolves had gained some familiarity. But that silence was intrusive. It had to be stopped.
"Will every twist through this world have a Guardian?"
"Perhaps."
"They want something. Every one of them wants something. Salt, hair---Why? What use are these things?" She turned to watch Loki as he situated himself once more upon the leaves, his platinum hair layering into a thin pillow for his head. His gold eyes looked up to her and all innocence and feral tints were gone. He did seem tired. Maybe more than that, weak?
"This isn't something to be asking me, Sarah. Jareth said the Middleground was shaped by your will. You made things the way they are, shouldn't the answers be in you?"
"But none of this looks familiar!"
He laughed shortly, so low that it quickly disappeared. "Oh my, we might as well make a home here. Because at this rate we'll never get out." He curled his hands beneathe his head and closed his eyes. She observed him as he tried to relax into sleep. It was never so easy for her.
Shaped by my will, but I can't recognize myself in it at all. But *he* said I wasn't wrong when I called it the realm of dreams, and dreams are often considered reflections of the subconscious. Unrealized fears, repressed desires---is this what the Middleground means to me? If that is the scale on which I measure everything . . .what does that say about me? The seemingly innocent butterfly, her touch was so cold. Her thoughts were so foreign. She wanted and wanted but didn't want to give any. The circling of the King, the vacancy of the wind, the costumed wolves and the shearing of my hair. Is there more that I just can't see? And why am I certain that what I want lies at that castle? Does it really? Is even the castle only an extension of some reality of mine that I've masked with dreams
?She tried curling upon the leaves as well, but the wonderings wouldn't leave her alone. They chased and chased each other into circles, until she began to question everything. Until she was certain that she was seeing ulterior meanings when there weren't any. Or maybe there were and she just wasn't seeing them. Or maybe. Or maybe. Or maybe.