Jareth growled as he looked in the mirror, his usual pale eyes now a deep green. He could live with the change in eye-color. He could even put up with the way his aesthetically pleasing nose was now marred with an unsightly 'bump' along the middle. Those things he could ignore, but the scar. That was really beyond the pale.
A silvery scar ran from his forehead, across his left eye and downward, to end in a jagged line below his chin. It was bad enough that he had to hide his face with human 'prosthetics' in the first place, but to sully his royal facial structure with a scar, well... it was almost too much to bear. He cast his eyes toward the willowy woman standing next to Sarah beside a large case of makeup and latex facial modifications. The woman's blue-black hair seemed to slide over her shoulders, like seaweed floating on ocean currents. The ethereal nature of her hair and movements would be written off as merely being 'graceful' by those who saw her with human eyes, but those from beyond the Mysts would see her for what she was - a Siren.
"Willa, maybe we could darken his hair? The white-blonde stands out a bit too much, don't you think?" Sarah asked, as the Siren began digging through her bag of tricks.
Pulling open another drawer, Will nodded. "I've got some navy blue dye here. That will suggest Siren heritage of some sort."
"Darken my hair by all means, but get rid of this hideous scar," Jareth grumbled. "It's verging on sacrilege."
Sarah shook her head, a slender hand waving vaguely in his direction. Dismissing his complaints without a second thought she chuckled, "No can do. The fact that Fae hide scars and the royals never have scars is exactly why you need to have one. It will mark you as an outcast from your realm, which makes you perfect bait for this plan."
Whether Jareth liked it or not, there was a logic to Sarah's plan. Bearing this horrible scar would ensure that they did not suspect he was royal.
The Siren grabbed the back of the salon chair and spun Jareth toward the mirror once more. With a deft flick of her hands, she unfurled a black cape over him, covering his body from neck to knees. Seeing the excited gleam in her glittering black eyes, he wondered what other indignities he must face at the hands of the Siren and Sarah.
"Can you shorten your hair a bit Jareth," Sarah mused, tapping his jaw. "About here should do it."
Jareth harrumphed. "A Fae would never..." he began, only to be cut off.
"That's the point Jareth," Sarah sighed, her eyes rolling. "Must you be so exasperating and contrary? The point it to make you seem like a Fae slave. As a slave your owner would keep you from hiding any imperfections and would even dictate your hair if they so chose."
With a deep sigh, Jareth flicked his fingers toward his hair, the long strands shortening to his chin. "Will that do?" he muttered with a petulant glare into the mirror.
"Perfect!" Sarah stepped back as Willa approached him with a small plastic bowl and a brush.
Jareth couldn't help but cringe when the Siren smeared the first glob of cold dye into his hair. With each stroke of her application brush he fought to resist the urge to shrink down further in the chair. The dye was cold and thick, like having his head coated in cold Goblin snot. He hated the modifications made to his face. And overall, he hated this whole situation.
"Stop pouting, Jareth. You look like Toby does when he doesn't get his way."
"I do not," Jareth muttered, crossing his arms over his chest with a huff.
Sarah stepped back from the mirror, her head tilting to the side as she regarded him with a curious look. After several moments her eyes lit up and her lips curled into a broad grin. "Willa! I finally know who he is reminding me of now... Prince Kasian!"
Both women broke into a gale of giggles, punctuated with a few unladylike snorts of mirth.
"And just what would you two know of Prince Kasian," Jareth asked, glad to steer the conversation away from aspersions related to his behaviour. "I wouldn't think either of you would have seen him up close and he doesn't allow any form of imagery given his...disfigurement."
Sarah glanced at Willa, then shrugged. "Confidentiality rules, Jareth. I can't tell you. It's Willa's story to tell, but only if she is willing to share it."
Will said nothing. She moved around Jareth, carefully coating his hair in the thick, cold gel. As she moved in front of him, he noted raised skin along the inside of her wrist. Frowning he reached out, his fingers gently clasping her wrist and turning it over. There etched into the skin was the brand of the Elvish kingdom of D'nath - ruled by the vicious Prince Kasian.
"You were a slave of the court?" he mused, releasing her wrist. "How did a Siren end up a slave in a desert kingdom?"
Willa frowned, elegant fingers tugging her shirt sleeve down to cover the remnants of the magical brand. "It was how Sarah and I met. She helped several of us escape As to the 'how' - I was there to avenge the rape and murder of my sister at the hands of a D'nath warrior, during Synerian Sea War." The Siren's words were soft, yet underpinned with a sense of strength.
He couldn't help but be impressed. In the 2000 years since the D'nath clan came to power, there had never been an escape within the ranks of the court slaves, yet here was proof of an escape.
"Did you get your revenge?"
The dark glow in her eyes, and the way her lips curled to reveal razor sharp teeth told him all he needed to know. Despite myths to the contrary, Sirens were largely harmless to humans unless mistreated. However they were fiercely protective of their people. To attack one would risk the wrath of an entire pod of Sirens, and possibly their Harpy relations as well. No one with any sense of self-preservation would seek to wrong either species, although Prince Kasian was not known to care about such things.
"Now she works for a local movie studio doing special effects makeup," Sarah said, draping herself in a nearby salon chair.
"And I owed Sarah for her help," Willa added, her fingers carefully wrapping Jareth's hair in a dark towel. "We'll let the color process for a bit and then you should be ready when the tickets arrive."
"| still don't understand how a simple make-up artist could secure the tickets we need," Jareth huffed.
Sarah scrolled through her tablet, tapping notes as she reviewed her plan. "Play nice, Goblin King," she said, her scolding tone hinting at her annoyance. "Willa is perfectly placed to see and hear all kinds of things. People in the movie industry tend to ignore the presence of their 'staff', which is stupid since the make-up artists, administration people and general staff are the basis on which the industry rests. Without them nothing would get done." Glancing up at him, then at Willa, she smiled warmly. "Willa hears and sees far more than anyone expects. I took a chance that she would know about the exploitation of supernatural and ethereal beings, and she just happened to know someone who could get us in."
Jareth shook his head, his lips pursing in a frown. "Be that as it may, I don't understand how that would inspire them to just hand over invitations to this party."
Willa's laugh chimed around them, the sound rolling through the air like enchanted waves of sound. "Just as I owe Sarah multiple favors for what she has done for me, others in the movie industry owe me for helping them out. I merely called in a favor."
"Must have been one Hell of a favor," he muttered.
The Siren's eyes flashed from black to deep purple, her voice dropping to a deep, rumbling hiss, the last sound many who have crossed Sirens ever hear. "Yesssss. It wassssss."
Jareth watched the city streets pass by, the raindrops on the windows of the limousine refracting the colored street lights into surreal blurs of light and color. He fought the urge to scratch at the prosthetic burns that adorned his wrists and neck, having already been scolded by Sarah not to disturb the Siren's work. If he thought the facial scar was an indignity he would be unable to live down, he was wrong. Sarah and Willa decided he needed to have various disfigurements added to the rest of his person - namely his chest and arms.
Dropping his head, the Goblin King gave the prosthetic scars on his biceps and chest are rueful glare. He wouldn't have minded the slave clothing if it weren't for the scars, pretend though they may be.
Sarah and Willa had conferred for some time over how to clothe him for the party, finally deciding that a simple outfit befitting a slave would be best. They had seemed to rather enjoy watching him wrestle into a pair of very tight leather pants, then simply wrapped his chest in harness of light links of Fairy Silver. Around his wrists and neck they had fasten metal cuffs and collar that appeared to be iron, yet they caused no actual harm.
"Now, don't forget... No magic, Jareth," Sarah said, as she touched up her crimson lips in the small makeup mirror she held in her hand. "Even if you see Anwyn, do not react. We have to get the lay of things before we can rescue her. We don't want to risk the deaths of any other MystFall beings or innocents."
"I know. I know," he grumbled, his fingers itching to pick at the latex along his wrist. laying under the metal wristcuff to look like iron scarred and irritated iron burns. "I'm not a fool, Sarah."
Sighing, Sarah flipped her compact cut with a sharp snapping sound. "I know that, Jareth. But we both know that self-control when you are angry is not exactly your strong suit. You have to trust me on this."
As much as he hated the situation Anwyn was in, he knew Sarah really would do her best to rescue his sister. Trusting her was the least of his concerns. "I do trust you, Precious."
"Oy! No pet names. We went over the rules, Jareth! You call me Mistress. Nothing more. And you do only what I order you to do. Got it?!"
"Yes, yes. I understand," he grumbled. At her narrowed gaze he huffed and grudgingly added, "Mistress."
The limousine turned off the main street and began weaving through side streets leading toward the wharf. A leaden feeling coiled deep in the pit of Sarah's stomach the closer they got to the party location. No matter how adamant Jareth had been that he wanted to be her 'pet' for the evening, she couldn't shake the nagging doubt that he could control himself long enough to get the job done. As the care began to slow to a stop outside the warehouse, she shook herself lightly. It was too late to change plans now. She needed a supernatural pet to gain access to the party, and Jareth was it.
And he certainly looked the part.
Tight pants that looked painted on. Delightfully shaggy blue-black hair and dark green eyes, set off by the silver of fairy chains. He looked like the epitome of a 'bad boy' from every romance novel she had ever read. All that was missing was the motorcycle.
Reaching over she clipped a fairy chain leash to his collar, and slid the handle around her left wrist. "Okay. Don't forget. Stay on my left. Kneel at my feet, unless I tell you to sit on a chair so I can sit in your lap. Act devoted. You are supposed to be my brainwashed and adoring sex slave."
Jareth looked quietly at the beautiful woman sitting beside him in the car. Her ebony locks had been twisted up and pinned with glittering stones, that set off the dark colors used around her eyes. Deep green silk hugged her body, to flow effortlessly to the ground. She was a picture of grace and deadly beauty. A true Femme Fatale. Unable to help himself, his fingers caressed the ivory expanse of her throat.
"I promise you Sarah, I am devoted. I will do whatever it takes to please you tonight. Anything that needs to be done to convince them of our story, I'll do it. I assure you."
Nodding quietly, Sarah took his hand in hers and squeezed it tight. "One more thing, Goblin King," she murmured, her expression cold with a seriousness that sliced through his heart like a lance. "If things go south, don't worry about me. Don't worry about anyone except Anwyn. If she isn't visible, and things go bad - get out. That's it. Use your powers and escape. Go anywhere outside of the human realm.
"But you said I shouldn't use any magic because that would interest them," he protested, shaking his head. "I don't want to risk them harming you."
"Damnit Jareth," Sarah growled. "You swore you'd do as I told you and right now I'm telling you, if things go to shit, I want you to get out. Forget me. Forget everything else. Just get yourself and Anwyn out. I can take care of myself. If you can't promise me that then we're going home now and I'll come up with another plan."
His gaze is steady and sure as he nodded, squeezing her fingers gently. "Fine. If that is what you want of me, it is what I will do. But know this. You are bound to me now and if anyone harms you, I will return with an army if I have to and lay waste to all of them."
It was overkill sure, but despite that, Sarah couldn't help the bit of warmth that fluttered in her stomach at his words. She had no doubt at all that he would destroy anyone that harmed her.
Not responding to his threat, she merely smiled and gave a tug on the leash around his throat. "I think we're ready. Time to party."