The room had changed since Sarah had left, she discovered upon her return. The new girl didn't have too many possessions, and things were arranged so that none of her own belongings needed to be moved. It was a good change, Sarah noted - the room then looked as though it were lived in. A new bed sat to the left side of the room, up against the wall - like her own on the right side. However, this bed was merely a mattress. Neither head board nor frame gave support to it, but it was made up rather nicely. Black silk sheets with a pretty black blanket of velvet that had silver dragons embroidered into it. It was also covered in thick, feather filled pillows which were enclosed in velvet and silk pillow cases - black, of course. Beside the mattress was a low sitting table of mahogany; which had a dark colored Tiffany reading lamp, an alarm clock and a small, jewel encrusted, silver dragon figurine sitting upon it, over a crimson taffeta and black lace table cover. At the foot of the mattress was a trunk, painted black with shinning silver stars all over it. On the lid of the trunk was painted a large, white owl that had fierce, wise yellow eyes. For a moment, Sarah stared at the top of the trunk, her eyes fixed upon it's crowning glory of a painting. It was the very image of him in owl form, as she remembered that very well. No mistaking it. Another little alarm sounded in the back of her mind, and she cautiously backed away from the trunk, right into another person. With a gasp, she spun around to face the other - her mind full of fears of who it could be.
It seemed, much to her pleasure, that there was little to be afraid of. She was then facing a young woman who was almost half a foot shorter than Sarah herself. That made this new comer probably around 5'3, if even that. However, the other girl was curvy and what could be called 'thick'. Not fat, not thin . . . just . . thick. The size fit her hour glass shape though, and she was fairly pretty - even if she was dressed oddly. The girl wore a long, bell sleeved, black jacket that looked as though it belonged to a priest of some sort. It was velvet, solid black, and buttoned up the middle by intricately carved silver claps. Beneath the jacket was a simple black gown of gauze, the hem of which was interwoven with silver threads - or so Sarah observed from what she could see of it (which was almost only the hem, for the rest of the dress was covered by the jacket.) Pointed, shiny, tightly laced black boots peeked out from under the silver lined hem, and around the girl's milk white neck was a silver collar encrusted with bits of obsidian. Sarah's attention was then drawn back to the face. Angelic features with pale, flawless skin. Oval shaped visage, elegantly high forehead and cheek bones. Her lips were colored purple and the bottom lip had an eternal pout to it. Ice blue eyes that were deep set, almond shaped and rather catty - outlined in thick black koal, almost in Egyptian style. Silver eyeshadow also decorated her face, and the pale skin was faintly shinning with a little bit of cosmetic glitter. Her hair was odd as well. It was brown highlighted naturally by gold and auburn, it was also thick, long and extremely frizzy. It seemed the girl had also teased it outwards, giving her a look that was somehow very cool. This was, obviously, Sarah thought after sizing her up, an individualist."I hope that I didn't startle you to badly." The girl began - her voice sounded foreign, but it was very gentle and pretty. Like bells, Sarah thought. She couldn't identify the accent though. "That would be unforgivable of me, if I did. After all, we haven't even been properly acquainted."
"It's fine," Sarah replied, slightly surprised by the girl's formality, "I was just a little spooked by your owl, that's all.""My owl?" The girl replied, raising a thin, dark eyebrow.
"O, on the trunk." At the moment, Sarah felt very foolish."Ah, yes . . . that owl. Nothing to be afraid of, really. Just a painting." A smirk played the little, pouty lips then. "I hope my other belongings don't frighten you as well. You don't seem as though creatures of myths or nature would frighten you." She eyed the purple muslin dress Sarah was wearing. It did make her look like a flower child. That was a vision there, a hippie and an obvious Goth sharing a dorm. Well, it could be worse . . .
"Just startled me is all. It . . ." Sarah began, wondering how, once she'd started, she'd be able to really could fully explain without sounding like she needed to be locked away. At the moment, she was mentally kicking herself."Don't bother to explain, I'm not someone you need answer to." A small hand was held out, palm facing Sarah, in a polite gesture of silence. Then, another smile came to the face. "Let's change to an introduction, shall we? I'm Ronni Saffe, as I'm sure you read from my note?"
"Yes, I read it. I'm Sarah. O, and thank you for the crystal, it's very pretty.""No problem, I have a collection, actually. They are sort of my good luck charm. Keep it with you, see if it has any charm for you. One never knows, after all."
"I don't doubt that." Sarah's voice didn't give body to the suspicion building in her. Something inside was screaming for her to interrogate this new comer about . . . She cut out that feeling as fast as she could, then sat down on her own bed as Ronni went and closed the door, locking it. When she heard that click, Sarah felt unreasonably like an animal at the near end of the hunt - preparing herself to be caught and most likely killed. She gulped down that emotion as well, and watched as her new dorm mate took her own place on the black swathed mattress. Awkwardly, she began again . . . wondering what about this new girl was making her so feeble of mind. Even if she were not a social creature, Sarah also was no shy recluse either. "So, where are you from?""Originally?" The girl watched as Sarah nodded. "Russia. But, I haven't been to my birth place in years. I've been on the move since I was 16, going from place to place. Hopefully, I'll be able to stay stationary for a bit . . . make a few good friends too. That'd be nice."
~~~~~~~Meanwhile, in the Underground . . .
Jareth watched the two girls through the red crystal that Saffron had left for him with an impatient mind. Still, he was pleased that 'His Eyes' was making her attempt at befriending Sarah such a seemingly sincere one. Who would have thought that the little creature was such a good actress? The connection between the worlds, which was powered by Sarah's own energy being directed into the crystal by physical touch, seemed to be fading. That didn't surprise him -she had, after all, put her hands on it only a few times since finding it. But, it was sitting on her own night stand, and Saffron had made that remark about a good luck charm. He wondered if Sarah would still be interested in such a thing?"Why," Mordred's voice interrupted his thoughts -which was not something unusual or objected to- "did you call her Saffron, and give her the powers over the red crystals?"
"I would think you'd remember." Jareth replied, still not surprised at this outburst or the subject there of. He had his reasons of sending these two on this little mission together - and was glad he could do it. After all, Mordred wouldn't have the audacity to approach the girl on his own, not with how she thought of him. It made Jareth want to smirk, it seemed so familiar to him."No." Obviously a lie, but his King would humor him. It was something Jareth liked to do, anyway -bragging about the women he'd had and that others wanted.
"I named her for my favorite spice, and gave her the red crystals as well as the abilities that came with them because beauty should be powerful." Jareth replied, his bluntness surprising the much younger sprite. "And then I put her collar on her, because she became vindictive when I tired of her and gave her a much different job than she was used to having.""That's one way to phrase what went on . . ." Mordred grumbled, angry and jealous. He'd had his eye on Saffron ever since her name had been Fayina, though she had failed to notice that. "So, when will I be sent out as well?"
"In time, don't worry. Let the girl establish herself a bit, then you can go on. Give her a day at the longest. She's crafty, that one . . . she'll have Sarah about her little finger in no time - if given examples are the norm for her." Jareth's smirk mocked at Mordred, making the youth narrow his own eyes. "Now, if you are done wasting my time?""One more thing . . ."
"Well, ask.""Did you ever tell her . . . what she is? After all, she's entitled to know. And with Sarah coming to join us . . ."
"Ah, look . . . a little sprite telling a fae how to conduct himself. What's this?" Jareth snapped."Merely a suggestion, more like." Mordred told him, his voice low - to others, it would give a hint to tred carefully, but to the Goblin King, it was nothing at all. After all, he knew well that the young nobleman was prone to tempers. Most amusing ones at times, too. Jareth's anger switched into a smile, and he watched his court favorite flare.
"That's much, much better then.""Then, I shall take your leave, Majesty." Mordred gave him a low bow, then turned heal and walked from the throne room.
"Mordred." The youth named stopped when he heard Jareth's voice at his back."Milord?"
"Tell her nothing of what she is. In time, she shall learn.""As it please you, milord." Mordred stated, keeping his real thoughts to himself. He heard Jareth give him a final dismissal, then left the throne room finally, kicking a goblin out of his way as he went.
Little sprite? Mordred's mind screamed as he stormed down the corridors. Little sprite? Is that what he thinks us to be? The ones whom built this place, the race who gave birth to the fae? So what if his kind are a bit stronger? He owes our people so much, for without us . . . without our connection with the aboveground -he -his whole race, as well as his goblins and his Labyrinth - would be nothing! Nothing! Running up a set of stairs that will lead him to a quick transport to his own manor which lay far from the Labyrinth itself, he let out a soft growl. And he won't even tell one of us who she is, what she can really do . . . that she's far more important than a simple window for Jareth into the mortal world! The disgrace of it all! The male sprite finds himself soon in his own little realm, where he ruled over a portion of the underground like a minor king in mortal days of old. In the times before Saffron, he and several other males sprites of noble birth had watched the above ground. He himself had found 'Jareth's Eyes', and had produced the little, unfinished book that led her to wish her sister away and herself into the Labyrinth. Thoughts of Saffron made him stop in his tracks and heave a sigh. And she knows not what she is, only that she is no longer human and she shuns the race she now belongs to, calling us arrogant. His frown from that lifted a bit as another thought came to mind. Well, if she thinks so of us . . . what does she think of the one that controls her through that collar of hers?"Indeed." He stated out loud to a servant sprite that flitted past him. Unlike nobles-the originals of their race-servant sprites and peasants were dwarfish and winged, but still very beautiful. They had their own power as well. In the aboveground, they went to grant the sweetest of dreams to mortal minds, seeking out the most floral imaginations to give that gift too. They were proud to be what they were . . . unlike the fae, who had come after them. The fae had been given to rebellion . . . and it was obvious how that turned out. However, the noble sprites, with their peasants and servants at their sides, had been marshalling up their powers. Mordred held his head up high as those thoughts crossed into his mind. Jareth may well find out how his parent race feels finally, and the rest of his kind shall feel it in turn after him. But, it would be Jareth first, for the Goblin King was among the-if not the- strongest of his kind. And once he fell, well . . . the underground could be theirs again, couldn't it? And without the interference from the mystical creatures in that realm . . . the aboveground could surely follow . . . And that interference was something most sprites doubted. After all, their energy had been drained from years of disbelief from the majority of the human race, hadn't it? Wouldn't they be glad to rule again, as they had in the old days, before the humans had appeared and half destroyed their kinds and pushed so many of them into the underground? Again, Mordred's blood began to boil. The servant sprite that had passed him was rallying his fellows to tell them of their lord's mood. While he planned, they would be careful not to cross him -which was how he liked it. After all, there was so much in their world which needed correction . . . and a sprite needed to think, didn't he? Especially when he was soon to be called up into the service of the King he pretended to honor . . .
*************Whoa! More soon! ^_^ Hope ya'll are liking it!