With an exasperated sigh, Jareth swung a long leg up over the jeweled arm of his throne; his eyes flickering distatefully over his inane subjects. As far as subjects went his goblins were not as bad as they could be, he reluctantly admitted as he struck the frayed end of his riding crop on the heel of his boot. His aquiline nose wrinkled quite regally as he remembered his impressions of the Mortal World. Bah. There was no such thing as a true monarchy any more! The peasants had stormed the castles of the world and replaced the true, noble power with people like that insufferable Margaret Thatcher woman and that silly actor fellow. What was his name? Donald Reagan? Donald McRonald? Oh, the fellow who played with that filthy monkey in that one moving picture. Clint Eastwood? Oh, it truly didn't matter but he did like to keep abreast of what was happening in the "movies", as the inhabitants of that world called it.
He struck the riding crop against his heel one last time before he forced himself up in a sitting position. Frowning absently as he looked at the oblivious little goblins running rampant about the room, his thoughts strayed back to that marvellous moving picture magic of the Mortal Realm. It really was the most beguiling of spells. He had spent at least two hours trying to decipher it but even he had no luck. His attempts to reproduce the effect had, and Jareth truly shuddered to even consider the thought, failed miserably. He had decided that perhaps the Mortal Realm contained a sort of magic that the Underground lacked and therefore, the moving picture story spell wouldn't work here.
The Goblin King glanced disinterestedly back towards his viewing crystal and looked upon the progress of the girls in the forest. They had been slowed by some sort of disagreement and it was obvious they wouldn't gain too much ground until one or the other apologised. His thin lips suddenly tugged into a bemused smile. It was amusing to see the wind taken out of that Sarah's sails. She was walking... perhaps stalking would be a better word? behind her friend. A small part of him that he reluctantly acknowledged was maybe slightly disappointed with this lack of spirit, but then, what could you really expect from a mortal?
Jareth rose to his feet, shrugging his shoulders as he decided to leave the mortal girls be for a few minutes. After all, from the looks of things, they were making their own problems. His services could be missed for a few minutes while he indulged himself with the pleasure of a moving picture spell or two.
The environment shifted suddenly, responding to his unspoken command to teleport back to where he had found the girls just hours before. He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. The strong, but not unpleasant odour of the mortals still clung closely to the air, but he didn't smell the presence of any others in the immediate vicinity. It should be well enough, he thought as he gazed around the quiet room, for him to explore this dour and horrendously decorated piece of mortality a bit.
His narrow nostrils flared as he tried to temper the excitement he was unwillingly feeling at this peculiar situation. The unique chance to examine the life of a mortal (even as dowdy as it was) seemed to be a precious gift to a creature whose own immortality had often deprived him of the exhilaration of new experiences. He frowned suddenly as a peculiar emptiness made his chest feel hollow. He only had one chance to savour the newness of this opportunity. And Jareth, by god, planned to enjoy every bit of it. Even if it meant leaving his charges a little longer than he originally intended.
Jareth rubbed a thumb over the smooth grain of a whitewashed desk as his mismatched eyes roamed through the subtle mauves and almond decor. The colour scheme wasn't exactly something he would have chosen (it simply lacked the bright enthusiasm of the world which had been his own for as long as he could remember) but if it was meant to be calming and pleasant, then it worked well enough. The room was quite small as compared to anything, perhaps excepting an oubliette, in the Underground, but undoubtedly more than enough to suit the needs of a mortal girl.
Pulling out the wooden chair, he sat cautiously at the vanity, intent on not disturbing a thing. There was a sweet, almost beguiling charm to the setup and he really didn't want to ruin it until he discovered what he wanted to know. Unfortunately, he thought as he gazed at his reflection in the mirror, he wasn't quite sure what it was he wanted to learn from this impromptu jaunt.
His eyes caught sight of several framed pictures. Jareth's pale brow knitted together as he looked through the captured images. By the looks of things, it seems he was in that Sarah's bedroom, not Dolores's as he originally assumed.
Perhaps that was why the girl had found her way to the Labyrinth when the Rules stated she shouldn't be there when she had nothing at stake. It all happened here, he thought as he pushed himself up. Maybe the girl had something to lose that even the Goblin King couldn't see. The forces of life work mysteriously, Jareth told himself as he walked over to the small, canopied bed. He had given up trying to understand it years ago.
The room was a bit more reserved than what he would have expected of this arrogant little girl, he thought as he sat on the bed. He smiled suddenly as he bounced against the springy cushion. With a lazy air, he reclined back, enjoying the soft support that the bed gave his spine. Sighing happily, Jareth closed his eyes for a moment, just breathing in the soft scents teasing his senses. Perhaps he was a bit hasty in condemning this place before, Jareth thought as he reluctantly opened his eyes. It bothered him a tad that the room seemed to have magically transformed from a interior decorator's revenge to a quiet, but comforting sanctuary. The girl was a bit confusing, Jareth thought as he slowly sat up. Learning to understand what was going on in that pretty little head might be an intriguing challenge, but mostly, he wanted to wipe that arrogant smirk from those full lips. To his great dismay, Jareth suddenly couldn't help but wonder what it would be like if she smiled.
"It would undoubtedly be just as annoying as her frowns," he stated aloud, listening to the way his clipped tenor echoed in the silence. Grumbling at the hint of insincerity in his words, Jareth quickly rose from the bed and left the room.
With a snort, he immediately moved to the stairs, his intelligent eyes darting from object to object as he searched for something more interesting than this Sarah.
"For a mortal dwelling," he murmured as he began the descent down the steps, "it is quite large. There will be undoubtedly many things more interesting than a teenage brat," he assured himself. With a curt nod, he looked to the area about him.
A myriad of colourful pictures lined the walls, each one possessing a certain sickly sweetness that made him want to turn away from the view, and yet, his eyes refused to obey. He walked down the stairs slowly, taking in each image as if it were a macabre vision: knowing that he shouldn't look so intently, and yet, being unable to turn away. Everything seemed to be so perfect in their small, little world, he thought in disgust. The ignorance of the world and its horrors was tangible as he watched a small girl grow to womanhood and an infant boy learn to run. The parents of the two seemed to be always standing by with a certain sad pride as they watched their children age.
Mortals. In that they could be forgiven, Jareth decided generously. They had none of the lifespan of those who lived in the Underground. Perhaps it wasn't an unforgiveable sin that they seemed to be obsessed with capturing their limited moments in order to imprison them forever on these walls. It was merely an annoying one.
He suddenly laughed aloud as his eyes caught view of a rather large picture hanging upon the wall at the base of the stairs. No, this wasn't the sugary-sweet images of moments ago, he thought with no small amount of pleasure. This was anything but.
Jareth stood before the large portrait, somewhat aware that there had been a smaller version in Sarah's room, but he had only given it a cursory glance before.
"What a pity!" he scolded himself as he looked upon the amusing scene of an absolutely outraged Sarah standing far from the comfort of her family in what appeared to be a staged picture. He had seen that stubborn tilt to her chin before and that burning fire in those dark eyes, qwelling the soft kindness that seemed to emanate from every other picture he had seen in this hall. The circumstances of the picture may have been staged, he thought as his eyes traced over the black drapery of the background and the perfect postures of the family, but that expression of Sarah's simply was not.
"What a pity," Jareth repeated softly, suddenly remembering the lack of spirit the girl had shown right before he took this jaunt to the Mortal Realm. Had she shown the same fire in the Underground that she had shown in this silly image, Jareth would currently be spending his time tormenting her instead of wasting his time examing her things. Enough about her! he told himself firmly. With a shake of his head, he abandoned the hall in order to explore the rest of the house more fully.
* * *
Sarah sighed deeply, her hand touching her temple gingerly as she continued walking. For some reason, her mind kept flashing back to an incident that happened to her the first time she had entered the Labyrinth.
She had just solved that riddle of the doors. Even now, she could remember how the confidence swelled up in her as she passed through the door leading to the castle, a part of her ecstatic she had bested Jareth so. Piece of cake. Or so she thought.
The next thing she knew, she was dropping through a tunnel full of green hands reaching out at her. Grabbing at her. Like terrible vises, they clutched to her thighs and waist as they momentarily stopped her from falling. She screamed out for help, her voice hoarse from the terror of not only the drop but these grotesque hands holding on to her.
"Helping Hands," she murmured to herself as she stepped over a broken branch. Or that's what they called themselves. So embarrassed of her position, she just asked that they bring her down instead of taking a moment to think about where she was. Had she stopped to consider the situation a little, common sense would have told her to ask to be taken back up to the top for that was the direction of the castle. But between her embarrassment and pride, she nearly ended up losing the bet... and her little brother in the process. She had almost let her pride cost her everything, and in all honesty, it wasn't worth it.
It's a hard thing to admit, she thought as she watched the retreating figure of her best friend. It's hard to admit when you are wrong, Sarah frowned. And she had been wrong. Sarah had let her pride do the talking since they arrived in here. Her motives had only been the best: she wanted to help Chloe and Dee, but in her effort to help, she had tried to take over Dee's fight. And that's exactly what this was. Dee made the mistake and now it was up to Dee to rectify it. Sarah was the interloper here and that's what she had to remember.
"Dee!" she suddenly called out as she jogged to catch up.
Dee turned around, the orange wisps of hair dangling in her angry eyes as she looked at her best friend.
"Dee," Sarah repeated, blushing slightly at her own impulsiveness. The petite latina didn't make it any easier with the glaring.
Be realistic, Sarah told herself as she fumbled for the words. Dee's upset because you questioned her ability and her love for her own baby. That wasn't very cool. You'd be furious too. Take it easy and don't expect a miracle.
"Look, I'm sorry. I'm worried and frustrated about being back in here. And I'm kind of scared. Things aren't what I remember," Sarah started, though forcing herself to meet Dee's eyes was one of the hardest things she felt she ever had to do. "I didn't mean to take over and I didn't mean to judge you. I'm sorry."
Dee shook her head slowly, her fingers rubbing at her reddened eyes.
"I know, Sare. I know. But you got to remember things aren't so freaking easy for me here, either."
"Dee, there's no doubt of that. I just want to help..."
"The best way you can help," Dee started uncertainly, something akin to shame shining in her brown eyes, "is to let me do what I have to. Look, I appreciate you being here. Honest to god, I need you. I love you even more for being here. But you gotta trust me. I think you can trust me."
Sarah smiled softly as she took a hesitant step towards Dee. "I know. I do. I just want to help."
"You are. Don't doubt that," Dee smiled wearily as she lifted her hand towards Sarah. "C'mere. Big girly hug then we keep walking, okay? We will get through this. Together, you know?"
Sarah blinked in surprise at the girl's quietly spoken words and glanced her over. Her face was marred by streaks of ruined makeup and tears, and her beautifully manicured nails were ruined. Her smile, though as pretty as ever, seemed to carry an edge of maturity in it that Sarah had never seen before. Somehow, sometime during this trek, Dee had changed a little. There was a confidence in her voice and in her eyes that Sarah had never seen before, and something told her that it was for the better.
Dee cried softly as they hugged, her hands trembling as she tightly clung to her friend. "Love ya, Sare. Sorry about being such a bitch before. I really didn't mean it. Honest."
"I know," Sarah smiled as she gently pulled away. "You're stressed to the max. It's cool. I totally understand."
Dee stepped back as she contemplated the beautiful brunette standing before her, her lips curving in a crooked smile.
"Learn something new every day!" Dee muttered as she began to walk slowly on.
"Hmmm?"
"I never knew my best friend was a Valley Girl. Like, totally tubular! Gag me on a spoon..."
"...with..." Sarah corrected automatically, her eyes lightened with humour.
Smiling archly, Dee winked at Sarah. "And you just proved my point..."