She just stood, as if a rabbit caught in the glare, lost in his eyes. Jareth stared back at her, his face solemn and sure, both stood taking the sight of the other in. Sarah confused, as if struggling to accept the madness and irregularity surrounding her, the men and their ladies cavorting amongst the cushions, the poisoned talk, the drapes and the whole richness of the room. He only had eyes for her, she overpowered all else, he was ignorant to the hustle and chatter engulfing the room, basking in the pleasure of her familiarity with him. He disappeared before her, he needed time.
Jareth was already threading through the crowds, keeping a constant watch on every single of her steps, she was searching for someone, searching for him. Her powdered face lifting and turning anxiously, repeatedly. She received intrigued leers and stares from the masked dancers that consumed the space around her, jostling and grasping at her figure. Jareth would occasionally be lured into a dance with an ever hopeful lady, but he could have been dancing with air, he payed no care for the masked gaze lost in adoration, he was straining his head to catch a sight of Sarah. Poor frightened, confused, disorientated Sarah. He wished to take a long look at the girl before daring to make an approach, she was so strange, like none she had ever seen before, a bizarre clash of innocence and evil. Her eyes were wide, exhibiting a totally lack of worldliness, but her actions, the actions he now knew she would carry though – a mark of evil. And how she fascinated him with it.
The tailor had done his job well, the dress had been worth every crown, she shone like a beacon in a midnight sky, the simplicity yet extravagance of the gown drew the attention and envy of all – the ladies wished to appear just as she did, to be every bit as beautiful, with her wide innocent eyes and raven hair. It well suited her with it's exaggerated sleeves and full skirt, he could see her glancing down at herself, as if hardly able to comprehend the change. There was an awkwardness in her movements – but such awkwardness could easily be made part of a long distant past.
Jareth was feeling light-headed, he was laughing, participating in gossip to which he did not listen, his head overflowing with the plans for the time ahead. All the time, his sisters stood in the sidelines, scrutinising each of his steps.
They worried for him, Anastasia tried to force the crowds to break to speak with him, to try and reclaim him from the misty eyed haze, but to no avail. He was apparating and disapparating through the crowds at will, all to get a closer look at the girl. He's such a donkey. Loosing all sense over a girl! No good will come from this. She turned back to her wine, in acceptance of her defeat, to draw her own husband back from the embrace of another.
"She's too young for you," Jareth's sister Olga warned, giving him a sidelong glance, he made no effort to listen, even smiling mockingly, before continuing on, mingling with the crowds. Leaving his sister glaring at the vacuum he had occupied just moments before. Olga sighed, he, or anybody else for that matter took her into consideration, just because she happened to be the only sensible one amongst a brood endowed with flighty impracticality. She remembered well a time when Jareth had been but a child himself, a performing troupe had (unwisely) been passing through the Goblin City, and one of them could a perform a feat – a simple trifle in actuality, of producing a rabbit from a silk lined top hat. For some reason, unknown to all, Jareth was transfixed when it, he had never seen anything well, to express it crudely, remotely cute or sweet before, and it had fascinated him. He had not stopped badgering and pressing his mother until she granted the performer a hefty sum for the creature, who was promptly presented to Jareth. For Jareth was never denied anything. He was well pleased, but had no understanding of care for the creature, it had died days after being trusted to his care. Olga still remembered his tears.
What I would give to know how she thinks of me! Now Jareth could read minds, but not minds that did not yet exist. The most accurate description of Sarah's existence would be as a ghost – a ghost of time yet to come. In Sarah's own reality she was engulfed in the warm familiarity's of her room, scouring the pages of the play, repeating the lines over and over, the ball did not exist for her. Not yet.
All in the room danced on, for an hour or more. Sarah constantly winding her way through the labyrinthine formations of crudely masked participants in the spectacle. She was distressed now, still searching for him, Jareth, who was in a bizarre twisted way her only anchor to reality, for this ghost Sarah knew Jareth, and had enough sense to know if anything in the place was real – he was.
Puck caught sight of her dark head bobbing through the crowds, took notice of her handsome features, and rapidly approached her, "You are remarkably beautiful m'lady, would you care for a dance?" He smiled with as much charm as such a face as his could manage, Sarah mumbled a rejection, repulsed by him and pulled away, but he chased after her, grasping at her flesh. Jareth was watching it all, face fuming with fury, it was time to act, if he was going to approach Sarah – it would be now.
She had just lost her pursuer, and was standing lost and so, so lonely in the midst of the throng, it was a ghastly experience, humiliating, degenerating. Then she caught sight of him, Jareth viewing her intently with the heads of two stunningly beautifully women resting on his shoulders, he shook them off, and came to her. Taking her in his arms, leading her in the dance.
He could hardly believe she was real, he could feel her, she was as real as anything else known to him, how he wished to keep her here, he knew he would have to learn patience – days now, he had waited countless years. He would have to learn to cope with the few remaining days. They spun around, him caught up in the sheer exhilaration of her in his arms, her eyes focused on his, with no eyes for another. His hand gripped hold of her waist, tightly, if Sarah had not been only a half-presence, had not been engulfed by the turmoil of all surrounding her, she would have whimpered from the pain of his caress. All eyes were on them, the lustful leers from the men, Puck being among them, the jealous gazes from all those who saw her as usurping their place, the sisters who sighed with futile exasperation as one.
She amused him, with her funny words, her confusion and overwhelming sense of disorientation. He could well see there was more to this girl, far more, than her beauty and her effortless ability to intrigue. She would many a time question him, though with an air suggestive to her feeling foolish as to the soundness of questioning the smooth course of her very own fairytale.
He was being open with her, making no effort to disguise his ecstasy, a sure smile never left his face. His face held no mask to her, all could see the extent of his infatuation with her. They whirled about for hours more, slow and sure in their steps. Jareth knew it would tax her to perform any more complex routines, so they remained drifting serenely about the scape, never ceasing, his hand never leaving hers, too afraid to risk her leaving his arms.
She was slowing, he looked into her eyes, she was tiring, she looked so weak, so frail to him, as if a perfect porcelain statue teetering on the edge of shattering into oblivion. He stopped, pausing her, gripping her more tightly in his arms than ever before, "Trust in me," she looked unsure, scared even, but gave a nod to her ascent. Blindly trusting to him, the lamb to the wolf. Now was the time, it just felt so right, for him to claim her as his, he leaned forward to kiss her. Just as the clock began to strike the thirteenth hour, each long weighty chime falling heavy in the air.
Something changed her, at that moment, as if she was recollecting something of great importance, more important than all else in her little world, more important than him. He continued to seek out her lips, he would not give up on her now, but she struggled, breaking free from him, running to the door before fading, shattering even, as if glass dropped to the floor.
He stood still in his disbelief as the room was struck cold. Jareth's figure highlighted and framed by his distance from the crowd. By the fact he was totally alone.
I got this chapter written very quickly, probably because the Jareth/Sarah relationship is the area of the story I'm most interested in, I kinda want to read what I write!
Important note, this is the first chapter I've had a beta for, so many thanks go to Ergott, who is helping me overcome the scourge of mis-use of the word 'of' (me and grammar do not get along very well!)
Hopefully it's suitably different from the scene in the book and the move to be interesting, I'd love to know if you think I've made it 'interesting' enough! And I'm sorry for the overwhelming seriousness of this, I promise I'll try and make the next chapter a bit more light-hearted!
Anyway, onto my reviewers:
InuLvr7 Hello again! I'm really glad you enjoyed that last chapter, and that your looking forward to the sequels, I think I'll be relieved to move onto something fresh!
Irresistible Malaria I'm pleased to hear you like Puck! He was fun to write, as you say, he's very reckless! Hope you like my writing of Sarah, as you can tell this is more about Jareth and co's views on events to make it suitably different from the film, but I have amazingly introduced Sarah to Jareth. It was great fun to write, I've probably made her a bit weak, but she seemed very, very lost in the scene in the film, so that's what I'm playing on here. Anyway, enjoy!
Please, please review everyone! I'm eternally grateful for all of them!