Drabble #93: Calm
Thursday, 4 June 2020 12:31![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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labyfic...we had a bit more exciting response to the drabble prompt of Drabble 92, with entries by both
3iggy and me (your intrepid drabble proposer jalenstrix). Commenting love was also provided by both 3iggy and me. (And welcome back to womanroaring, who has posted a fantastic longer challenge, #37: Isolation!)For this prompt, we continue with our one-word/phrase drabble roots:
Calm
The calm before a storm? After a tempest? In the midst of chaos? Who's calm, and who isn't? (Or maybe, who desperately needs it?) Tell us all about it labyfic-style!
Given our entries from recent months, let's continue with the suggested limit for this month of 500 words. Though remember that shorter pieces are most definitely welcome!
Your entry should take the following format, posted as a comment on this entry:
Word count: # of words
Drabble: $your_beautiful_drabble
I'll aim to get the next drabble challenge out on the first Friday of next month (July 3).
I'm also very happy to take suggestions if something in particular strikes your fancy -- comment on this post or PM me with your suggestions. You can see our current collected suggestions here.
Remember: Feedback is LOVE. So do reply to your fellow labyficcers' drabbles if so inclined. (Though be careful of concrit unless specifically okayed by the author beforehand.)
no subject
2020-06-26 01:29 (UTC)Drabble:
“Calm yourself, Sarah.”
“I am calm!” Okay, I wasn’t exactly calm.
Jareth, quite reasonably, arched an ironic eyebrow.
I still wanted to smack him. “The point is that you left our son in the care of your idiot subjects. And he almost died.”
“Don’t you think that’s a bit of an exaggeration?”
“Let me think — I just found our son perched on the edge of the parapet of the highest tower in the entire castle. With no one holding him. Above a sheer drop of God only knows how many feet. Which surely, without a doubt, absolutely guaranteed, would kill him if he lost his balance and fell. Which he is prone to do because he’s only barely capable of sitting up by himself.” My glare could have burned through steel. “So no, not an exaggeration. What the hell, Jareth.”
Jareth looked at me for a long heartbeat, and then dropped Feanor from his arms.
I screamed and lunged forward to catch my baby son.
But he didn’t, in fact, fall. Instead, Feanor bobbled gently in the air as if he were a soap bubble in a breeze, laughing as he tried to catch his father’s hand.
Jareth arched that ironic eyebrow of his again.
And I still wanted to smack him. But...okay. I took a long, slow breath and closed my eyes, willing the adrenaline to leave my system.
Jareth clucked his tongue at me. “Where is your trust?”
Breathe in, breathe out, do not smack your Faerie Lord husband...
A surprisingly gentle hand brushed along my cheek. “He’s our firstborn child, Sarah. Surely you know I’d protect him.”
I leaned into his hand, the tension draining out of me. “I know in my head. But my maternal instincts apparently trust no one.”
He pulled Feanor between us, still bobbing merrily in the air, and wrapped us both in his arms. “They are excellent instincts. Especially with my side of the family around.”
I sighed into the length of him, solid and strong and lithe as a sword blade. He would cheerfully murder anyone who hurt a golden cornsilk hair on Feanor’s tiny head. I knew that. Jareth had in fact demonstrated so just last week on an enterprising assassin nursemaid hired by….well, we weren’t entirely sure yet, but it was probably in the family. His side of the family was like that. “I don’t know how any of you survived to adulthood.”
He stroked my hair, and kissed me. “Excellent instincts.”
I kissed him right back, melting into the familiar taste of him, like spiced vanilla, heady and rich. Mmm. And then Feanor reminded us both he was still there by letting out a loud — though joyous — shriek and pulling heartily on my hair.
Jareth’s eyebrow went up again, though his smile was down right devilish. “To be continued, perhaps after some small boy’s bedtime?”
“My excellent instincts are telling me that’s an excellent idea.”
“Splendid.”
no subject
2020-07-01 14:26 (UTC)no subject
2020-07-01 17:43 (UTC)no subject
2020-07-01 23:44 (UTC)Outwardly, he was peaceful. Inwardly, he was...
It was just that this particular stanza sounded like the laugh she’d never shared with him. This note reminded him of the challenge her eyes held each time they found his. When he picked up the tempo to dispel the last notion, it became the beat of his heart as she turned him away—so rapid, yet constricted.
Goblin Kings were not made to deal with such things, you understand. Dreams he gifted. Wishes he granted. Fantasies he fulfilled. Dreams he didn’t have, wishes he never formulated, and fantasies he never required. Yet now, he had all three in abundance. All of them with hair dark as a grackle’s wing, and eyes full of spite.
Jareth sighed, bringing his gloved fingers down on ten different keys at once, he let the discord shatter the calm. Glancing over the top of the piano, gaze inward, he began to think.
While engaged in this painstaking activity, he neglected to notice the trio of goblins huddled in the doorway.
“That was awful, though the last bit wasn’t so bad,” said one.
“Pathetic,” said another.
“Do you think he’s dying?” Said the last, only moderately hopeful—to be fair, he’d been bogged a good deal more often than the others.
The Goblin King dropped his head and banged it a few times on the top of the instrument.
The goblins cringed.
“I have an idea,” said goblin one, whose name was Lurk.
“Does it involve shenanigans?” Asked the second—Leer.
Lurk preceded to divulge his plans as the others listened hungrily. It was a bad plan, but those were the kind they liked best.
“Keep your lectric eye on me babe,” said the final goblin—Larry—cackling as they pulled the door closed and hurried down the tower steps, and out into the mortal world.
no subject
2020-07-02 03:45 (UTC)no subject
2022-11-15 10:16 (UTC)no subject
2022-11-15 10:08 (UTC)no subject
2022-11-28 14:26 (UTC)Serenity
2022-11-15 10:37 (UTC)Drabble:
Sarah stood in the doorway of the games room. Every time she entered the room it was arranged in a different configuration. A game of ping pong was currently under way, although judging by both the sound of the ball and the force the players were using, she suspected they may be playing by a different rule book. She idly wondered at the potential for casualties in this version of the game. That thought was answered when a return shot was missed and the stray ball froze in its arc, the player plucking it from the air to resume the game.
There were tiered benches along one wall where several spectators were lazing. Jareth was splayed out displaying his assets and Bishop looked like he was on a break from a photo shoot. The pair were engaged in a quiet conversation while using Rook as a backrest where she was stretched out on a tier above them.
Absently raking her fingers through her hair as she read, Rook set the book aside when she noticed Sarah, and sat up to swivel her legs over Bishop’s head. To Sarah’s eye the movement didn’t appear impeded, so she assumed the woman had fully recovered from her recent injury. Rook grabbed the hands of the men as they eased her down to sit between them, but that’s where their gallantry ended. She ended up with one leg wedged tight against Bishop, his hand curled protectively around her thigh. Her other leg was cocked over Jareth’s splayed thigh.
Rook's manner of dress was in sharp contrast to her companions. It looked like she’d tumbled out of bed and donned someone else’s clothes, the effect completed by a spectacular case of bed head. Jareth ran his hand through her hair fondly, magicking it into something that instead looked artfully mussed, before replacing his arm across her shoulders.
Sarah envied the easy affection displayed amongst Jareth and his guardsmen. It was one of the few things she missed from her previous life when she thought of the friendships she’d built throughout college.
“There are a significant number of the castle horde who are loudly crying in the throne room.” Jareth raised a questioning eyebrow. “They seem to think they’ve killed Rook and will no longer be getting puppy rides.” Sarah was surprised when all three grinned broadly at her. Not so much that they smiled, but that it was the first time she realised they all had very sharp, not quite human teeth.
Shaking off that derail, Sarah rerouted back to the problem at hand. Threats of the bog did little to deter goblins; they loved being kicked and losing their stolen toffee had been a minor deterrent, but the loss of their favourite conveyance distressed them. She wondered if she could use that information.
Jareth shared a look with his guardsmen and turned to Sarah. “I’ll deal with them in the morning. They can sweat until then.”
Sarah grinned back. She could work with that.
Re: Serenity
2022-11-28 14:27 (UTC)Re: Serenity
2022-11-28 18:17 (UTC)