Title: Witches' Rites
Author: Yodeladyhoo
Summary: Sarah longs to be with Jareth, but at what cost?
Genre: Fantasy
Pairings: Jareth x Sarah Rating: T
disclaimer (dĭs-klā'mər): noun
1. (law) a voluntary repudiation of a person's legal claim to something
2. denial of any connection with or knowledge of
syn: disavowal
c.1986, 2007 The Jim Henson Company.
LABYRINTH is a trademark of The Jim Henson Company.
Labyrinth characters c.1986 Labyrinth Enterprises.
All rights reserved, but not by me.
All rights are reserved, but not by me. This short story is a work of fiction. All original characters in this story are based on actual persons. Said persons have been contacted and permission to use their likenesses has been granted. This means, if I didn't speak to you about this, it isn't you I'm talking about. Permission for the use of the non-original characters has not been requested by the author or granted by the licensor. This short story was written for your perusal and pleasure. No compensation, either financial or actual, has been collected or requested.
Plea for Reason: I did it! A complete story in under 72 hours! Woo-Hoo! I'm thinking about extending this into a real lemon custard, but it would be very listian to do it, but if you want to see it…Well, you know that little, blue square button on the lower left side of the page that has the word 'Go' on it, down there ? Use it to let me know if I should continue the scene.
Jareth lifted his eyes…
To find himself standing in the woods, a full moon in a crystalline sky peeking through a canopy devoid of leaves. He looked further up and tasted the atmosphere. Closing his eyes, he inhaled deeply, attempting to clear his heart of the yearning that has now settled in for a long residence. At least this time, he knew there was hope in his future. Not wishing to return to his home very soon, Jareth chose to walk for a bit, to see where his feet would take him. It had nothing to do the aching loneliness that his castle afforded him. So many souls were there, yet none to commune with.
He did not know for how long he walked or how far he traveled, nor the direction he moved in. His feet led, his mind wandered. He was startled to find a woman lying in a bed of grass and soft pine needles. Something about her was familiar; Jareth could almost put his finger on it, yet the memory was elusive. Not entering the glade fully, Jareth absently summoned the miasma to his gloved hand. Like an obedient servant, light coalesced around his fingertips and formed a bauble. Ever so softly, he breathed on it and sent it on its path towards the woman. Jareth then crouched behind a bush to see what would transpire.
The orb collided with a rounded shoulder and burst like any other ordinary soap bubble would. Immediately, Jareth heard her take a full, lung filling breath of air, followed by her fully stretching her body. Yawning loudly, the figure sat up to survey her surroundings. Jareth could barely see the fall of chestnut coloured hair that exposed the nape of her neck. The head rose up from a sturdy neck and broad shoulders that were rising up as the rest of the body stood. A broad back narrowed by minuscule increments to a waistline that was barely defined. Hips flared suggestively, telling a life's tale of child bearing and rearing and legs that were reminiscent of marble columns that had withstood the test of time.
She was Gaia reborn in the Underground. All things about her suggested nurturing and birth. Looking around her, her hair swung around and caressed her jaw line with a seasoned touch. Jareth caught sight of pendulous breasts hanging from strong shoulders. The dark, inverted triangle of her mons was nestled between rounded thighs as sweetly as a thickly wooded valley hidden within an ancient mountain range now reduced to hills. Yes, this was the Mother that his Sarah would long strive to emulate. Now, Jareth could truly mourn for her loss.
She was ignorant of her observer as she assimilated her surroundings. Still turning in circles, she was caught unawares as a hand touched her upon her shoulder and its mate slide around her waist. A warm breath tickled her cheek as the voice that created it filled one ear.
"Hello, Patricia."
Author's Note: I've done it for you. Now, please return the favor. Review. Thank you.