Drabble #125: Curses
Monday, 6 March 2023 12:58![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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labyfic...we had a bit livelier response to the drabble prompt of Drabble 124, with entries by
redwolf and me (your intrepid drabble proposer jalenstrix), and comments by us both as well. Once again, special labyfic love to redwolf for adding entries and comments for many previous drabble prompts. Huzzah!For this prompt, we continue with our one-word/phrase drabble roots:
Curses
Is someone or something cursed? Or doing the cursing? Or maybe just yelling imprecations? 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 Monday of next month (April 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. Authors generally write for love.)
Concern
2023-03-21 08:42 (UTC)Drabble:
Sarah was working in the pottery studio on a collection of small bowls. She finished the last one, placed it on a tray and then slid that tray into a rack with the rest of her mornings work.
Stretching the kinks out of her back, Sarah watched Bishop complete another bowl, cut it from the wheel and set it aside to dry. He was throwing a larger model of the piece she’d been decorating, so she could look forward to working on his current batch once they were bisque fired.
Busying herself with the task of cleaning her tools, securing the glazes and tidying her workspace was necessary, but it was just an excuse to delay her concerns. Turning around and leaning back against a bench, Sarah looked at the trays of drying bowls arrayed around the room and was briefly distracted by the contemplation of the work ahead. Shaking the thought off, she returned to her concerns.
“I’m worried about Jareth.” When the final deciding goblin had returned to the throne room after a round of splat, it was sporting all of the competitors' colours and had no idea who, if anyone, had been the first to make contact. Sarah had expected the highly competitive Goblin King to demand a tiebreaker, but he’d just shrugged off the issue. “He hasn’t been sleeping well.”
Jareth had woken with a start, as if from a nightmare. While he’d waved off her queries, he couldn’t hide the paleness of the markings around his eyes. Sarah had summoned a crystal when he’d left their bed and saw that he eventually wandered into a media room that she hadn’t previously known to exist. He had then crashed out in a pile of tangled limbs with Rook and Erich to the accompaniment of film noir.
Sarah sighed. “I don’t think he’s cheating on me, but I don’t understand what’s happening.”
Bishop stepped away from his wheel, washing the clay from his hands before he crossed the room to join Sarah. “You’ve seen what Rook goes through with Doug.” Sarah nodded. “It’s not unlike that. Running a rescue drill is emotionally draining, but the relief at it being a drill also invokes the times when it wasn’t. They’ll need to decompress and that will take a lot of physical contact.” Sarah opened her mouth to ask a question, but Bishop raised his hand. “Jareth understands your need for fidelity, so there’s no need to worry on that front, but they will be extremely tactile for the near future.’
As she turned it over in her mind, Sarah started to understand. She’s seen the distress exhibited by all of them in the training room. “How long does it usually last?”
Bishop shrugged. “A week or so, provided they’re given the time to recover.”
“Fair enough. Are you done for the day?” Bishop nodded, smiling as Sarah took his arm. “Let’s pry them out of the metalworkers and see if we can find out what they’ve been making.”
Re: Concern
2023-03-27 18:34 (UTC)Re: Concern
2023-03-27 20:17 (UTC)no subject
2023-03-27 18:32 (UTC)Jareth blinked slowly, letting things churn in his mind. He was so focused inwards, he didn’t register anything external – not me, not Feanor or the babies, not the uncountable goblin eyes watching from shadows in anxious hope and fear.
I held my breath, waiting. Please, oh please, let him see it…let him believe me…let him be able to fix it…
At last, he looked up at me, his glance as sharp as a spear.
I shivered, but held my chin up, arching an eyebrow.
His lips twitched up in a half-smile. “Insidious. I’ll have to remember it for my next curse.”
I slowly exhaled. Thank you, whoever’s listening. “Admiring the handiwork, were you?”
“Truly. It’s the equivalent of a magical scalpel cut. Targeted, precise, brilliant.”
“And downright evil, to cause you to think those things.”
“But brilliant. Just one little perception pathway altered, and so many things are affected.”
“I’ll say. It’s one thing to be accused by your mother-in-law of being a mortal harpy who seduced her precious boy, and it’s quite another to be accused of being an impostor by said precious boy.” I let my fingers linger along his cheek.
He kissed them slowly, one at a time. “The very best impostor.”
I froze. “But you know I’m not an impostor, right? Our kids are not impostors. ” I hugged one arm around our son. “This is the real Feanor.” I pointed at the babies. “These are the real Telperion, Laurelin, and Aranel. Right?”
His eyes glittered with mischief, but not suspicion. Not suspicion.
I exhaled a long, controlled breath as my stomach unclenched. “I might have to strangle you if you tease me like that. Just so we’re clear.”
“It’s been hard on you, hasn’t it?”
“Damned right. Whoever cursed you with that thing, I will find them and I will dismantle them slowly and painfully.”
“I do hope for my mother’s sake that it wasn’t her. That could get awkward.”
I growled. “She only wants to get rid of me, not her grandbabies. She’d never do anything to make you doubt them like that.”
“True. This was significant enemy action, then.”
“Very much so.” I closed my eyes, holding back a hot wash of tears. “I thought I’d really lost you.”
He was suddenly behind me, pressed against my back, his arms enveloping me in a familiar wave of winter and Faerie. “Never ever, Sarah mine.”
Author’s note: Capgras Syndrome is a real psychological thing, where the brain pathway that connects visual recognition with the emotional ping of recognition is damaged. When the visual system recognizes someone as familiar but the emotional system doesn’t, the sufferer will rationalize it as the familiar person being an impostor.
no subject
2023-03-27 20:21 (UTC)