It has certainly been awhile, hasn't it? There's actually a hint of plot in this chapter though, so enjoy and, as always, I treasure your reviews! ;)
-HG-
The next morning found Sarah lying like a stone amongst her rumpled sheets, sleep having finally claimed her once more at about five in the morning.
Sarah awoke as sunlight crept over her face, and although there were grape-skin semi-circles scooped cruelly from beneath her eyes, a faint smile played at her mouth. The dream had not replayed itself; instead, she'd fallen into a pleasant, dreamless black.
Rising drowsily from the tangled fabric web she'd unconsciously wound about her limbs, Sarah glanced languidly about the room. She ran a pale hand through her hopelessly snarled hair, stifling a yawn with the other. Walking over to the dainty vanity set against the opposite wall, she slid onto the bench and lifted a hairbrush to the messy mop atop her head.
A tuneless sort of humming blossomed in the air around her, and it took a few seconds for Sarah to realize the odd sound was slithering from her own lips. Consciously putting a stop to the noise, and dismissing it as a result of her own exhaustion, she continued to brush her hair; the plastic bristles tore through the knots, while Sarah examined her face in the mirror.
Her silvery blue eyes were glittering in the morning light that failed to infuse her rather pallid cheeks with any semblance of warmth. Frowning, Sarah continued to luxuriously run the brush through the now somewhat manageable tresses spilling over her narrow shoulders.
Then, something flickered very suddenly in the mirror Sarah faced. An eerie sort of sparkling seemed to be coming from the center of the glass, glowing softly inside of her reflection.
The hairbrush fell to the table with a clatter, having slipped from the abruptly weakened grasp of Sarah's fingers. She could've sworn she saw another face layer over her own for a split second. A handsome male face, sculptured, with high cheekbones, icy eyes, and a cruel, thin mouth. Smirking at her. The face and the expression were both so awfully familiar that Sarah felt her skin go instantly clammy. White-knuckled, she only realized how tightly she'd been clutching at the edge of the vanity when she slowly pulled away, to see deep red lines furrowing her palms.
God, I'm losing my mind, Sarah thought in private disgust. She shot to her feet so hastily that the bench on which she'd just been sitting crashed to the floor behind her.
Coffee. I just need some caffeine to wake me up. That's all.
An odd twinge in the region of her chest pulled Sarah's lips into a wry smile. I'm fine.
(' )
Sarah looked poorly. Jareth was absolutely beside himself. Suffice it to say, however, that this certainly did not show outwardly, save for the rigid set of his jaw. His hand still curved around the antiqued golden handle of the ornately decorated mirror he'd used to look at Sarah.
"So…she doesn't know." Jareth tapped his fingers against the unyielding arm of his throne, seized by a surge of impatience. Is that why she seemed ill? Is that why the sunken crescents beneath her eyes were so deep?
Enyl, in the process of twirling a cerulean curl around her tiny finger, suddenly looked alarmingly serious.
"She'll find out, love. There are less than forty days left before she comes of age," the pixie stated matter-of-factly. Her child's face was disconcertingly grave, and there was no playful spark igniting her fiery eyes. Her mulberry lips were pressed tight, and she pulled her finger slowly from the tightly wound lock of hair.
"Whether you would have her know or not, she must, eventually."
Jareth smirked and produced a crystal in the air. It swam with a bluish light, and vague, colorless images swirled across the glassy surface.
"Eventually."
He tossed the crystal to Enyl, grinning wolfishly. Her lily-white face broke in surprise when the delicate globe popped like a soap bubble in her hand.
