"...Ha, got ya. Leave a message."
"Hi Ethan," Sarah's voice echoes from Ethan's answering machine sounding sleep-deprived and on edge. "Sorry to call so early, I guess you already left for work. Call me back when you get this? Okay. Bye."
Her message ended with a shrill beep.
Followed by a second shrill beep.
"Message deleted."
"Hello?" Ethan emerged from the bathroom, trailing a cloud of steam in his wake, glancing around the apartment and spying nothing. "Hello?" he asked again as he towel-dried his hair.
Frowning, he pressed the button on his answering machine.
"No new messages," the robotic voice informed him.
Ethan shrugged and disappeared back into the bathroom to finish his morning ablutions.
MiraBêaü snorted from beneath the sofa.
"Higher."
Îlka obeyed Dîakon's instruction, pulling the Christmas wreath up by the rope they'd lassoed over one of the parapets.
Dîakon considered the position of the festive pinecone and holly berry garland.
"Mmm…" he hummed thoughtfully, sucking on the end of another tinsel piece. "Actu'lly lower."
Îlka dropped the wreath back to its original position and tied off the rope around the foot of Jareth's throne which was itself enthusiastically decorated with tinsel weaving in and out and around the arms.
Multicolored lights hung from parapet to parapet behind it, and though unlit, they caught the light of the torches burning in the sconces, twinkling pleasantly. The power cord was knotted around the chandelier in the center, a feat that had taken seven goblins and a dare-devil triumph of acrobatics.
The odd bauble dangled from nails hammered into the brick walls and—not for the lack of imagination—off the helmet-horns of any goblins too asleep to protest.
The finished result gave the impression of a very low-budget Santa's Grotto.
"Bedder?" Îlka asked.
Dîakon tilted his head to take in the effect.
"Hmmm…" he brushed the mistletoe he'd adorned his helmet with out of his eyeline. "Fink it need more glitterrope?" he asked Îlka, brandishing the tinsel slickened with his saliva.
Îlka nodded in agreement and turned to gather another ream—
And collided with Jareth's hip.
"Îlka. Dîakon," Jareth greeted, his eyes taking in the festive monstrosity that was now the throne room. "What suicidal thing is it you think you're doing?"
"Um…" Îlka waved a paw encompassing the tinsel and lights. "Dec'ratin'?"
Jareth raised a delicately flared eyebrow.
"Decorating?" he repeated.
"Yup," Dîakon said, nodding enthusiastically. "For The Sarah."
"Really?" Jareth inquired, smiling a smile that one could read as pleasantly amused if not for the dangerous flash of teeth.
"Yup," Dîakon said again.
"And all this," Jareth gestured with his crop, "came from where?"
The two goblins exchanged a look.
"Found it," Îlka replied succinctly.
Jareth gaze traveled between the two goblins, narrowing suspiciously.
"In Sarah's home?" he said, his voice lowering briefly into icy depths.
The goblins shook their heads, helmets rattling. "No, sire," they answered in unison.
Jareth eyeballed them for a beat longer, and the two goblins held their breath.
"Very well," he said eventually, causing the goblins to flinch from the tension suddenly dissipated. "Don't let me stop you."
He turned to leave, twirling his crop in his fingers and flicked a hand from the doorway without turning back around. The colored lights glowed to life.
Sarah stared out of her living room window as snow fell, housebound for the day since receiving a mass email from work telling her the offices of Prell Publishing had been closed due to the white downpour slowly erasing the world outside, and employees were encouraged to work from home.
She'd been more than somewhat conflicted to receive the news. She'd woken up that morning with the need to surround herself with other people for distraction. Very little work left to do for the week had meant she'd spent the day periodically checking the odd email whilst fidgeting nervously at the lack of Ethan-communication.
And an impending Jareth.
After debating with herself for a while she dialed Ethan's number again.
"Hi Ethan," Sarah said into the phone, leaving yet another voice message. "Give me a call when you get this, okay? We…need to talk." She cursed herself for sounding like such a cliche.
'We need to talk' might as well be enough of a breakup on its own.
She wished it was.
Don't wish that out loud, God knows what will happen, she cautioned herself.
She huffed and tried not to feel sour that Ethan hadn't returned her messages. After all she didn't particularly want to talk to him.
It seemed ironic though; the number of times she'd said Ethan's name in the last twenty-four hours only for himto remain oddly elusive, whereas she was pretty sure if she even just thought particularly hard about Jareth he'd suddenly be there. All… glittery seduction and bedroom eyes.
Until tomorrow...
Last night that promise had sunk into the very bones of her, sunk even deeper during her restless night's sleep. Everytime she was about to achieve just a modicum of oblivion, dreams of his eyes pierced her, and the ghost of his touch set her on fire.
Would her dreams be so vivid if she hadn't been beyond frustrated for so long? Her whole body begging for something to dash itself against like a thing untethered?
She'd sat and stewed most of the day away, biting her nails and wishing the night would draw in whilst simultaneously begging it to hold on. Wait. Just wait… give her a chance to catch her breath after he'd stolen it…
She checked the time on the phone's screen. It was four o'clock. Ethan worked early shifts at a local cafe and should've been home an hour ago. The sky had turned from snowy white to dark gray. It would be fully dark soon.
She ran her thumb over the buttons and considered leaving one more message until a flurry of feathers interrupted the falling snowflakes and an owl landed on her balcony.
Sarah narrowed her eyes as it shook out its wings.
Must've thought too hard…
She chewed her lip hesitantly. Was it cheating? To imagine what his lips over hers would feel like?
She didn't like the direction her moral compass was spinning towards but still, she unfolded herself from the sofa and opened the balcony doors. The owl shivered hard, changing into Jareth's form wearing a lined winter cloak; white and tawny mottled. He looked warm and inviting, and significantly less fiendish than the last time she'd seen him.
"You're early," she said, leaning in the doorway as though she might deny him entrance.
"Truly absence made the heart grow fonder and I could no longer tolerate it," he said with a mocking smile, the mirror of the one he'd worn as he cornered her in the Labyrinth's tunnels.
Before he set the Cleaners on you, Sarah reminded herself. It didn't ignite the cold indifference to his presence she'd been hoping for.
"I didn't agree to let you in," she replied, repressing a shiver from the freezing air leaching the warmth from her skin.
He leaned next to her, resting on his forearm. Completing the image.
He studied her, and Sarah could feel her pulse quickening.
"Would it be cheating, precious?" he purred, grinning like it was a personal joke between them.
"Would it be innocent, Jareth?" she parried, not liking the leer her question caused (although—in all honesty—liking it far too much, especially the way his eyes sparkled darkly).
I really am attracted to villains… damn.
Jareth chuckled.
"I certainly am not," he said in answer to her question, his reply seeming even more demonic than the previous night's attire had been, "but I can endeavor to be positively angelic whilst in your company if that is what you wish."
She rolled her eyes—for consistency if nothing else—and stood aside. "Endeavor, then."