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labyfic2021-08-06 05:40 am
jalenstrix) wrote in labyfic2021-08-06 05:40 am
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Drabble #107: Chances
...we had a quieter response to the drabble prompt of Drabble 106, with an entry by me (your intrepid drabble proposer
jalenstrix). But orcamun has found us, and is likely to join in! Hurrah and welcome!For this prompt, we continue with our one-word/phrase drabble roots:
Chances
What are the chances...of what? Is something chancy? Is someone being given another chance? Tell us all about it. Labyfic-style, of course.
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 (Sept 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.)
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Drabble #107: Once Upon a Dreary Night (It’s not good, but it’s something lol)
The dry leaves rattled in the brazen branches above Sarah’s head. The wind tasted of wayward storms and not so far off lightening as she listened for the first rumblings of thunder.
Summer had slipped away like a thief in the night leaving a chill in the air. Wrapped in an old sweater the raven-haired woman set off across the lawn, just a shadow in the twilight haze.
No one looking at her would believe she was a wrecker of worlds, or a breaker of hearts. No one except the moon-bright owl who was every bit as brazen as the branches to which his claws clung. His eyes missed nothing. Not the way the wind raked its talons through her hair and tore at the edges of her sweater. Nor did they miss the way the last rays of the day scattered in her wake while the billowing black clouds hurried to quench the light.
Could a king be jealous of a north wind? The owl shook out his feathers. If a king could love a spoiled brat of a girl child who’d grown into a fey, windswept woman then he supposed anything was possible. That didn’t mean it was fair.
Sarah hadn’t felt like herself in ages.
Idly, she stirred her tea, watching the amber liquid form a tidy cyclone in the fragile china cup. Rain beat an erratic hymn against the kitchen window drawing her attention out into the gathering, storm-cloaked night. Lightning arched across the sky, illuminating the bone white branches of the sycamore with its autumn touched leaves. A clap of thunder shook the house before another fork of light scattered overhead.
This time she saw the owl.
Star-bright, the lightening danced across his golden feathers, his fathomless eyes. Sarah’s heart hammered against her ribcage, and for a moment she felt fifteen again. She could almost hear the chiming of a clock that was far away, sitting in the foyer of an old Victorian.
Tea forgotten, Sarah rushed out the back door and onto the creaking porch. Wind whipped her hair back out of her face. A damp mist traced across her skin as she leaned out over the railing, trying to catch another glimpse of the owl.
Had she imagined it?
Had she imagined it? Of course she’d imagined the entire thing. A youthful dream of dances, dashing, devilish kings, and danger.
“Oh, Sarah,” she chided herself as she turned to put her back against the railing, letting the wind blow her hair over her shoulders and into her face. All she felt was frosty disappointment as thunder echoed through the hills and shook the porch. “Too old for dreams,” she said. “Too old for second chances, for silly fantasies and fairy-men.” She would have laughed at herself if she hadn’t noticed a shifting of shadows, the weight of too-knowing eyes.
Sarah lifted her gaze from the chipped wooden planks of the porch and met the Goblin King’s kohl rimmed stare. He was perfectly framed in the golden light streaming out of the kitchen window—a storm conjured devil.
“It seems like a perfect night for fantasies and fairy-men,” he said a little too causally.
“What about second chances and dreams?” Sarah asked, her heart in her throat.
A knavish grin quirked his lips, lit up his eye, “We have forever for those.”
Sarah began to smile herself as the wind and rain raged around them. “That’s not long at all.”
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(Also, so great to see you here again!)
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Drabble:
Jareth leaned nonchalantly against a velvety wall of nothing, looking right at home amidst the whispering shadows.
I glared at him. “‘What are the chances?’ you said.”
He crossed his arms. “You must grant that they were rather small.”
“Granted. But here we are, Jareth. What do we do about this…” I waved my hand around, ”…clusterfuck of a situation?”
“Language, my dear. Little ears might be listening.”
I glanced down at Feanor, who was blessedly still out like a light in his stroller, with its iridescent wings gently fanning back and forth in the amorphous twilight. “Little ears are sleeping. Meanwhile, I hope your mother’s ears are burning. This is her doing.”
“Don’t you think that’s a touch unfair?”
“Not in the slightest. You tell me if you think us being stuck unexpectedly in a patch of reality she has complete dominion over is coincidence.”
His lips twitched. “She did mention wanting to see her grandchild.”
“Then she can damned well visit the castle like my parents do.”
“She prefers to stay in her own realm.”
“As do we all. Hence my extreme irritation at being yanked here unexpectedly.” I tapped my foot. “She could at least have provided some refreshments or something. Who knows how long she’ll keep us waiting?”
“You really think she’d be so…petty?”
“Jareth. Please. No, don’t you arch that eyebrow at me. You and I have been married for years. I’ve seen her handiwork enough times to know.”
“Your stepmother is also rather exacting in her wishes, you know.”
“Nope, don’t try to deflect. This isn’t about Karen. This is about your mother.” I ground my teeth. “Your petty, petty mother.”
A cultured contralto voice floated down from on high. “Really, dear, is it necessary to hurl imprecations?”
You could tell where Jareth got his vocal magic from. I shook off the effects of her voice. “At last, you grace us with your presence. How lovely.”
“You need to work on your biting sarcasm, dear. I can help.”
“I’m sure you can.” I counted to five slowly in my head. Okay, then. “In the meantime, perhaps you could help us get somewhere more comfortable? Your grandson’s going to wake up from his nap soon.”
“Of course, dear. All you had to do was ask.”
“Preferably somewhere none of us will be in imminent danger of immediate painful death.”
She sighed. “If you insist. But you do take all the adventure out of a visit, you know.”
“Somehow, I’ll carry on.”
“That’s why I’ve always liked you, dear. Such moxie.”
I shook my head. “You bent several dimensions into pretzels trying to prevent our marriage.”
“But I still liked you while I was doing it.”
And that was Faerie in-laws in a nutshell.
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Impede
Drabble:
Jareth was displeased at being summoned to the fiefdom of a minor lord on the pretext of an irregularity in a trade negotiation. He’d brought a small entourage of fae advisers and a pair of his guardsmen, all of whom were wearing the Labyrinth’s glamour to appear as either goblins or terrifying voids. His retinue were the only witnesses to their king’s dangerously compounding ire as the meeting was delayed without explanation, but if the lord had counted on the delay to unsettle Jareth, he had greatly miscalculated.
Once Jareth's group were finally ushered into the presence of Lord Shey they were informed that the request was a ruse to cover the assassination of the Goblin Queen and that Jareth would now be betrothed to Lord Shey’s toddler daughter.
With his engagement plans announced the lord started to look a little less sure of himself when Jareth transformed into his goblin armour and materialised a crystal that expanded to show the failed assassination attempt. Jareth was beyond proud of Sarah’s shielding of both herself and the goblins, while still leaving her guards free to deal with the problem. It didn’t hurt that she wasn’t the cowering human the lord had expected but a righteously furious monarch whose life and subjects had been threatened.
Before Lord Shey could start screaming about the death of his son, his own wife had attacked him and was making a fair attempt at removing his opportunity for further heirs. Their young daughter was left to bawl loudly as her parents fought.
Jareth snapped his fingers to invoke the forewarned High Court representatives who apparated into the room to take Lord Shey into custody. He was quite happy to let them deal with figuring out just how deeply Lady Shey had been involved in the plot and whether she would be taking over her husband’s fiefdom or joining him in whatever punishment the Court imposed.
All Jareth wanted was to return to his Queen and his kingdom, but he was forced to wait as the wheels of justice slowly turned. Once Lord and Lady Shey had been processed, the High Court representatives followed Jareth home to retrieve the slightly disassembled assassin and took custody of all of the evidence provided. While Jareth was pleased that his crystal showing the assassination attempt would mean that Sarah wouldn’t need to be debriefed immediately, he and his entourage were thoroughly questioned to the point where he wasn’t the only one who was wondering if it would be politic to bog the lot of them and deal with the consequences later.
It was the early hours of the morning by the time the castle was finally free of bureaucracy. Jareth dismissed his team and looked around his throne room, surprised that with the many people trampling over the scene of crime, all that remained were the blood stains. He tossed a crystal to the floor, vanishing the mess in a shower of glitter and went in search of his wife.