Title: Something Has to Give
Author: Ash
E-Mail: aka_jay66@hotmail.com
Disclaimer: None of these characters are mine. They belong to Jim Henson Productions. For the most part, this is a good thing.
Feedback: Would be appreciated.
Author's Note: I've responded to all my replies again, except for the latest one that slipped by me. I'll do that tomorrow, but for now: Hi, Your Worshipfulness! I like Gilmore Girls very much, as it happens. I miss Tristan. There's just something about smirking that gets to me. *g*
Part Twelve
Sarah hurtled through the crowded mall thoroughfare with her eyes focused on the middle distance, leaving a trail of wet footprints and surprised shoppers behind her as she went.
Although Sarah's exercise regime normally consisted entirely of rhythmic lip pouting, for this one shining moment she was a perfect running machine, a stretched out whippet-thing running on pure adrenaline. Thoughts were converted to fear were converted to energy that became speed without necessarily involving anything as cumbersome and physical as muscles or sinews. Sarah's physical body was so little importance to the proceedings that, if Sarah's legs had suddenly encountered an immovable obstacle, it would have been several minutes and about half a mile before she noticed that part of her was missing and even then it probably wouldn't have stopped her for long.
For once, Sarah was doing the absolutely right thing; running away was definitely the most productive thing she could be doing with her time. This was an indisputably positive step forward in Sarah's decision-making process, which is why it's such a shame that she's completely failed to notice that the mall is laid out on a circular floor plan.
For their part, the mall shoppers couldn't quite understand why the small blurred girl kept running at them and up behind them but they were able to adjust quickly and were soon going about their business again with only the occasional hunted glance behind them.
The clerks, more enterprising than their customers and also very bored, chose to see Sarah as an opportunity to declare a kind of impromptu theme day. Thus, Howard's Shoe Emporium was soon doing a brisk business in discounted running shoes, while the Travel Center had a badly lettered sign up in their window within ten minutes that read, "Hawaii: For When You Just Have to Get Away"
Sarah was unaware of all of it, from the sudden boom in racing turtle sales to the fact that the music store was now playing And I ru-u-n, I run so far a-wa-y-ay over the store speakers for the third time. The outside world was just a hazy backdrop to the argument going on in her mind.
A written version of that argument will be presented here for the benefit of non-telepathic readers. For those readers that are telepathic I will also be presenting a brief mental monologue on the food chain of bathroom appliances, with particular emphasis on how much it resembles a mobius strip when drawn out on a piece of bristle board. Take notes, there may be a test later.
As she ran, Sarah's thoughts can be summed up in one word: Run. And written out like so: Run. Run. Run. Run. Sale! No, run. Run. Runrunrunrunrunrunrun.
Sarah speeded up as she passed the corridor leading back to the washroom for the third time, dodging through the narrow gaps between customers. The crowd thickened around her and she was almost forced to stop, but at the last moment she executed a marvelous jump over a floor display of badly painted commemorative plates and was suddenly back in the clear.
Behind her, the plate vendor sighed deeply and fingered the insurance policy in his pocket. As Sarah ran on, he was already rearranging the plates to cover a wider floor area, occasionally looking down the mall corridor with a gleam in his eye.
It was around then that a rational voice spoke up in the back of Sarah's mind. "What am I doing?" The rational voice asked.
Irritated, another voice replied, "You're running. Don't stop now!"
"Jareth can find me anywhere, though." The rational voice pointed out, a little confused. "Where am I running to?"
"Away!" The other voice invested the word with a host of meanings, starting with 'You idiot.' and working its way down to 'How you got into this brain in the first place...' It was a pretty neat trick of inflection considering that there were no actual sounds involved.
The rational voice remained resolute. "Sorry, that's not good enough."
The other voice paused for thought. Unfortunately for an elderly woman crossing from one store to another, Sarah didn't. Sarah picked herself up off the floor and continued to run, leaving the muttering crowd behind.
"Well..." The other voice finally said. "We don't really know that Jareth can show up anywhere. So far, he's only shown up in public washrooms. So, we're running away from the washroom!"
The rational voice was alarmed. "That's just a coincidence... Isn't it?"
The other voice shrugged as much as a disembodied mental voice representing a part of a person's consciousness can. "Why take the chance?"
There was a mental silence as the rational voice considered that logic, such as it was. Finally, it reached a decision. "If that's true... then we're away from the bathroom now. Can we stop running?"
Carefully looking for flaws, the other voice thought it over. At about the same time as Sarah knocked a potted plant into the mall fountain it finally said, "Yes."
Sarah stumbled to a halt by a large ornamental palm and leant against it, gasping for breath. She looked around at the familiar stores, surprised to notice that she wasn't that far from the movie theater. She thought she'd been running for a long time.
Stubborn, beautiful and persistent, yes. Nobody ever called Sarah quick.
And I ru-u-n, I run all night and da-ay-ay...
*****
While their mutual prey was wreaking havoc on the general populace, Jareth and It were engaged in the traditional and ritualistic form of settling differences between mystical kings and empathic Lurers.
One of the more interesting parts of belonging to a vast immortal society is that there are formal and legalized traditions for everything, from the correct way to do battle with a many-eyed horror from the Shadow World to the right fork to use for salad when there's an even number of guests, a hexagonal table and a wind blowing from the southwest. (Forced to choose between the two examples listed above, most people would pick the many-eyed horror from the Shadow World: the rulebook is much shorter, and also colorfully illustrated.)
Given that vast history of tradition, given Jareth's years of study and Its proud heritage, both of them knew exactly what to do in this situation.
It stared at Jareth.
Jareth stared at It.
Any passing resemblance to a staring contest can be immediately dismissed. Staring contests vary in intensity from Oh God, I'm bored, to the relatively frenzied MAN, I'm bored!
Neither It nor Jareth looked bored. Both looked relaxed, certainly, but it was the type of relaxation that suggested the potentiality of tension, a type of relaxation common to panthers, assassins and anyone else who knows that death leases a small furnished house in their neighborhood just to cut down on his daily commute.
"What are You doing?" Jareth finally said after the requisite time had passed. His voice was a low hiss of menace.
It did not actually have the ability to speak out loud, given that It was the embodiment of every dream on earth, temptation made... um, Something. Also, it had been determined that if the Lurer starts getting chatty with the person being Lured it can really freak that person out.
This particular fact had been discovered by one of Its distant ancestors. Its ancestor had been in the middle of an extremely important Luring, disguised as a kind of beast that resembled a Shetland pony with scales.
Finally, after twelve straight hours of shaking Its tentacles playfully and pawing the ground with Its hoof, Its ancestor had grown frustrated with the lack of progress and snarled words to the effect of, "Look, you bastard, I'm your damned pet, okay? Get over here!"
Needless to say, the Innocent being Lured was startled. In fact, he was so startled that it took several centuries of bloody war with the parties responsible before he fully regained his equilibrium.
After that, Its species had started to experiment with subtler ways to communicate, finally developing a form of exceedingly precise body language. A raised eyebrow could signify either: "I will crush you like a bug", "Yes, this is excellent pudding." or "What is that cow doing in here?"
All of this goes to explain why, when It shifted slightly in response to Jareth's question, It managed to convey exactly what It meant.
Jareth stared down at it with narrowed eyes. "Your job was finished when she walked away from the shop!" He said. "She was about to agree to come with me when You came barging in here."
Its fur fluttered slightly as if touched by a breeze, Its eyes fixed on Jareth's face.
Jareth nodded grudgingly and said,"That's a good point. But in this case, You must step aside. Sarah is mine now, and I can allow no one to interfere."
It tapped Its foot meaningfully.
"You know that I could annihilate You," Jareth said after a moment, his voice calm and deadly. "And I will, if You persist in interfering with my game."
It raised one hand, fingers moving almost undetectably in a somehow threatening manner.
Jareth smiled without humor. "It is of no interest to me who You are or who You know. My only concern is for the game, as You well know."
One of Its ears twitched.
"Oh." Jareth said, his smile falling away.
Obviously, Jareth couldn't back down. He just wasn't built for it. For anyone to even consider the possibility of Jareth backing down would be equivalent to only pulling the tail of a tiger, but also doing a little dance around it while making obscene hand gestures and commenting loudly on its resemblance to a particular stuffed toy. The only way Jareth would ever run up a white flag would be if someone in the castle laundry used way too much bleach on the black one.
Therefore, his sudden change in attitude was not surrender. It was strategic retreat.
"In that case," Jareth said. "I will accept Your terms. Let it begin."
It seems appropriate at this point to take a moment to explain Jareth's knowledge of the strange and subtle language practiced by Its people. Jareth didn't usually bother to learn the languages practiced by other species, preferring to use the universal language of power as a sort of cosmic Esperanto, but he'd learned this one in his youth because of Her.
Jareth had thought that She was the most beautiful Thing he'd ever seen, and of course She had been. That was Her nature, and when he'd met Her Jareth wasn't yet powerful enough to be immune. Despite his youth, despite the warnings of friends and relatives and strangers on the street, he had courted Her assiduously and spent long hours in the castle library learning Her language in order to understand what his love was saying to him.
It turned out to be, "Leave me alone! Help! Guards!"
Despite the heartbreaking consequences, Jareth's early learning was standing him in good stead now. That childhood misfortune had made it possible for Jareth and It to share a deep and complete understanding of their mutual enmity.
It lifted an eyebrow.
"*What* cow?" Jareth asked suspiciously.
Of course, there may still be a few kinks to work out.
____________
Tell me what you think?
Hah, we're getting near the new parts. I have chills. Seriously, look! Chills! And yes, it is snowing outside and yes, I did just come inside and yes, there are in fact still large pieces of ice attached to the cuffs of my pants. Still, chills! *g*
Just a few short notes today because I'm sleepy and groggy and even more deranged then I usually am, partially due to my new collection of horror movie dvd's. I tell ya, you think you know what Pinhead's voice sounds like and Hannibal Lector's chuckle and Jack's throaty laugh and Jareth's song and then you plug in a few little cables and sit down in the right place and it's like they're crawling around inside your head.
My head, in this case, and it's already crowded enough in here. No vacancies, killers of the world! Go to the Comfort Inn down the street, they have HBO and hot tubs. ;-)
Story-wise, I hope everyone is still having fun. I am. It's probably not healthy for me to enjoy this as much as I do, but I can't seem to help it. I'm a reading, writing, drawing, replying, horror movie watching fool and I like it that way. Therapy? For other people. Answering the phone? A waste of time. Disposing of some of the books that cover every flat surface in my home? Blasphemy! *g*
AKA Jay
~ Voted most likely to be discovered dead under a big bile of books.
~ Rather proud of it.
Author: Ash
E-Mail: aka_jay66@hotmail.com
Disclaimer: None of these characters are mine. They belong to Jim Henson Productions. For the most part, this is a good thing.
Feedback: Would be appreciated.
Author's Note: I've responded to all my replies again, except for the latest one that slipped by me. I'll do that tomorrow, but for now: Hi, Your Worshipfulness! I like Gilmore Girls very much, as it happens. I miss Tristan. There's just something about smirking that gets to me. *g*
Part Twelve
Sarah hurtled through the crowded mall thoroughfare with her eyes focused on the middle distance, leaving a trail of wet footprints and surprised shoppers behind her as she went.
Although Sarah's exercise regime normally consisted entirely of rhythmic lip pouting, for this one shining moment she was a perfect running machine, a stretched out whippet-thing running on pure adrenaline. Thoughts were converted to fear were converted to energy that became speed without necessarily involving anything as cumbersome and physical as muscles or sinews. Sarah's physical body was so little importance to the proceedings that, if Sarah's legs had suddenly encountered an immovable obstacle, it would have been several minutes and about half a mile before she noticed that part of her was missing and even then it probably wouldn't have stopped her for long.
For once, Sarah was doing the absolutely right thing; running away was definitely the most productive thing she could be doing with her time. This was an indisputably positive step forward in Sarah's decision-making process, which is why it's such a shame that she's completely failed to notice that the mall is laid out on a circular floor plan.
For their part, the mall shoppers couldn't quite understand why the small blurred girl kept running at them and up behind them but they were able to adjust quickly and were soon going about their business again with only the occasional hunted glance behind them.
The clerks, more enterprising than their customers and also very bored, chose to see Sarah as an opportunity to declare a kind of impromptu theme day. Thus, Howard's Shoe Emporium was soon doing a brisk business in discounted running shoes, while the Travel Center had a badly lettered sign up in their window within ten minutes that read, "Hawaii: For When You Just Have to Get Away"
Sarah was unaware of all of it, from the sudden boom in racing turtle sales to the fact that the music store was now playing And I ru-u-n, I run so far a-wa-y-ay over the store speakers for the third time. The outside world was just a hazy backdrop to the argument going on in her mind.
A written version of that argument will be presented here for the benefit of non-telepathic readers. For those readers that are telepathic I will also be presenting a brief mental monologue on the food chain of bathroom appliances, with particular emphasis on how much it resembles a mobius strip when drawn out on a piece of bristle board. Take notes, there may be a test later.
As she ran, Sarah's thoughts can be summed up in one word: Run. And written out like so: Run. Run. Run. Run. Sale! No, run. Run. Runrunrunrunrunrunrun.
Sarah speeded up as she passed the corridor leading back to the washroom for the third time, dodging through the narrow gaps between customers. The crowd thickened around her and she was almost forced to stop, but at the last moment she executed a marvelous jump over a floor display of badly painted commemorative plates and was suddenly back in the clear.
Behind her, the plate vendor sighed deeply and fingered the insurance policy in his pocket. As Sarah ran on, he was already rearranging the plates to cover a wider floor area, occasionally looking down the mall corridor with a gleam in his eye.
It was around then that a rational voice spoke up in the back of Sarah's mind. "What am I doing?" The rational voice asked.
Irritated, another voice replied, "You're running. Don't stop now!"
"Jareth can find me anywhere, though." The rational voice pointed out, a little confused. "Where am I running to?"
"Away!" The other voice invested the word with a host of meanings, starting with 'You idiot.' and working its way down to 'How you got into this brain in the first place...' It was a pretty neat trick of inflection considering that there were no actual sounds involved.
The rational voice remained resolute. "Sorry, that's not good enough."
The other voice paused for thought. Unfortunately for an elderly woman crossing from one store to another, Sarah didn't. Sarah picked herself up off the floor and continued to run, leaving the muttering crowd behind.
"Well..." The other voice finally said. "We don't really know that Jareth can show up anywhere. So far, he's only shown up in public washrooms. So, we're running away from the washroom!"
The rational voice was alarmed. "That's just a coincidence... Isn't it?"
The other voice shrugged as much as a disembodied mental voice representing a part of a person's consciousness can. "Why take the chance?"
There was a mental silence as the rational voice considered that logic, such as it was. Finally, it reached a decision. "If that's true... then we're away from the bathroom now. Can we stop running?"
Carefully looking for flaws, the other voice thought it over. At about the same time as Sarah knocked a potted plant into the mall fountain it finally said, "Yes."
Sarah stumbled to a halt by a large ornamental palm and leant against it, gasping for breath. She looked around at the familiar stores, surprised to notice that she wasn't that far from the movie theater. She thought she'd been running for a long time.
Stubborn, beautiful and persistent, yes. Nobody ever called Sarah quick.
And I ru-u-n, I run all night and da-ay-ay...
*****
While their mutual prey was wreaking havoc on the general populace, Jareth and It were engaged in the traditional and ritualistic form of settling differences between mystical kings and empathic Lurers.
One of the more interesting parts of belonging to a vast immortal society is that there are formal and legalized traditions for everything, from the correct way to do battle with a many-eyed horror from the Shadow World to the right fork to use for salad when there's an even number of guests, a hexagonal table and a wind blowing from the southwest. (Forced to choose between the two examples listed above, most people would pick the many-eyed horror from the Shadow World: the rulebook is much shorter, and also colorfully illustrated.)
Given that vast history of tradition, given Jareth's years of study and Its proud heritage, both of them knew exactly what to do in this situation.
It stared at Jareth.
Jareth stared at It.
Any passing resemblance to a staring contest can be immediately dismissed. Staring contests vary in intensity from Oh God, I'm bored, to the relatively frenzied MAN, I'm bored!
Neither It nor Jareth looked bored. Both looked relaxed, certainly, but it was the type of relaxation that suggested the potentiality of tension, a type of relaxation common to panthers, assassins and anyone else who knows that death leases a small furnished house in their neighborhood just to cut down on his daily commute.
"What are You doing?" Jareth finally said after the requisite time had passed. His voice was a low hiss of menace.
It did not actually have the ability to speak out loud, given that It was the embodiment of every dream on earth, temptation made... um, Something. Also, it had been determined that if the Lurer starts getting chatty with the person being Lured it can really freak that person out.
This particular fact had been discovered by one of Its distant ancestors. Its ancestor had been in the middle of an extremely important Luring, disguised as a kind of beast that resembled a Shetland pony with scales.
Finally, after twelve straight hours of shaking Its tentacles playfully and pawing the ground with Its hoof, Its ancestor had grown frustrated with the lack of progress and snarled words to the effect of, "Look, you bastard, I'm your damned pet, okay? Get over here!"
Needless to say, the Innocent being Lured was startled. In fact, he was so startled that it took several centuries of bloody war with the parties responsible before he fully regained his equilibrium.
After that, Its species had started to experiment with subtler ways to communicate, finally developing a form of exceedingly precise body language. A raised eyebrow could signify either: "I will crush you like a bug", "Yes, this is excellent pudding." or "What is that cow doing in here?"
All of this goes to explain why, when It shifted slightly in response to Jareth's question, It managed to convey exactly what It meant.
Jareth stared down at it with narrowed eyes. "Your job was finished when she walked away from the shop!" He said. "She was about to agree to come with me when You came barging in here."
Its fur fluttered slightly as if touched by a breeze, Its eyes fixed on Jareth's face.
Jareth nodded grudgingly and said,"That's a good point. But in this case, You must step aside. Sarah is mine now, and I can allow no one to interfere."
It tapped Its foot meaningfully.
"You know that I could annihilate You," Jareth said after a moment, his voice calm and deadly. "And I will, if You persist in interfering with my game."
It raised one hand, fingers moving almost undetectably in a somehow threatening manner.
Jareth smiled without humor. "It is of no interest to me who You are or who You know. My only concern is for the game, as You well know."
One of Its ears twitched.
"Oh." Jareth said, his smile falling away.
Obviously, Jareth couldn't back down. He just wasn't built for it. For anyone to even consider the possibility of Jareth backing down would be equivalent to only pulling the tail of a tiger, but also doing a little dance around it while making obscene hand gestures and commenting loudly on its resemblance to a particular stuffed toy. The only way Jareth would ever run up a white flag would be if someone in the castle laundry used way too much bleach on the black one.
Therefore, his sudden change in attitude was not surrender. It was strategic retreat.
"In that case," Jareth said. "I will accept Your terms. Let it begin."
It seems appropriate at this point to take a moment to explain Jareth's knowledge of the strange and subtle language practiced by Its people. Jareth didn't usually bother to learn the languages practiced by other species, preferring to use the universal language of power as a sort of cosmic Esperanto, but he'd learned this one in his youth because of Her.
Jareth had thought that She was the most beautiful Thing he'd ever seen, and of course She had been. That was Her nature, and when he'd met Her Jareth wasn't yet powerful enough to be immune. Despite his youth, despite the warnings of friends and relatives and strangers on the street, he had courted Her assiduously and spent long hours in the castle library learning Her language in order to understand what his love was saying to him.
It turned out to be, "Leave me alone! Help! Guards!"
Despite the heartbreaking consequences, Jareth's early learning was standing him in good stead now. That childhood misfortune had made it possible for Jareth and It to share a deep and complete understanding of their mutual enmity.
It lifted an eyebrow.
"*What* cow?" Jareth asked suspiciously.
Of course, there may still be a few kinks to work out.
____________
Tell me what you think?
Hah, we're getting near the new parts. I have chills. Seriously, look! Chills! And yes, it is snowing outside and yes, I did just come inside and yes, there are in fact still large pieces of ice attached to the cuffs of my pants. Still, chills! *g*
Just a few short notes today because I'm sleepy and groggy and even more deranged then I usually am, partially due to my new collection of horror movie dvd's. I tell ya, you think you know what Pinhead's voice sounds like and Hannibal Lector's chuckle and Jack's throaty laugh and Jareth's song and then you plug in a few little cables and sit down in the right place and it's like they're crawling around inside your head.
My head, in this case, and it's already crowded enough in here. No vacancies, killers of the world! Go to the Comfort Inn down the street, they have HBO and hot tubs. ;-)
Story-wise, I hope everyone is still having fun. I am. It's probably not healthy for me to enjoy this as much as I do, but I can't seem to help it. I'm a reading, writing, drawing, replying, horror movie watching fool and I like it that way. Therapy? For other people. Answering the phone? A waste of time. Disposing of some of the books that cover every flat surface in my home? Blasphemy! *g*
AKA Jay
~ Voted most likely to be discovered dead under a big bile of books.
~ Rather proud of it.