This, Sarah thinks glumly, is exactly why she abhors social activities. Her colleagues all think of her almost as a shut-in, and indeed, if it was left up to her, she would only venture between work and home. After all, this world has nothing left to offer her, not when she knows what's out there. She has been steadily pouring every dime she can into researching how to find her way back Underground, but has yet to do so successfully.
Still, that land's King and all the adventures it has to offer continue to haunt her dreams. There is absolutely nothing in this world, she has learned, that can compare. There is nothing else she wants but to return Underground, to return to him, the man who claimed her soul with his charming, if sometimes crooked, smile all those years ago, even if he didn't claim her brother. Toby had forgotten, or perhaps never remembered, having been a baby when it all happened before. Sarah has never forgotten. She cannot forget, and she did spend a number of years trying when she was younger.
But now she cannot, and she does not want to. Everything in her strives to return to the land that is truly her home, and that is not this place, no matter how many years of her life she's spent year.
A waitress approaches her; Sarah stops her with a raised hand. "No," she speaks calmly and softly for the declined gesture is not this woman's fault, nor even the fault of the man who so clearly finds her attractive. She supposes he is better look than most of the mortals, but that's just the thing: None of this people can or ever will be able to compare to her King.
She pays her check and leaves, making a mental note not to return to this establishment either and avoiding the stranger's eye contact. She does not see him follow her out into the night, nor does she see the shadows in the alleys they walk pass pull him deep into them, black ribbons of seemingly empty air wrapping around his mouth and eyes before engulfing him entirely. She also does not see the owl that silently follows her home, or comes to roost in a familiar spot in the lone tree outside. Jareth tucks his head in his wing, content to wait.
Waiting Game
This, Sarah thinks glumly, is exactly why she abhors social activities. Her colleagues all think of her almost as a shut-in, and indeed, if it was left up to her, she would only venture between work and home. After all, this world has nothing left to offer her, not when she knows what's out there. She has been steadily pouring every dime she can into researching how to find her way back Underground, but has yet to do so successfully.
Still, that land's King and all the adventures it has to offer continue to haunt her dreams. There is absolutely nothing in this world, she has learned, that can compare. There is nothing else she wants but to return Underground, to return to him, the man who claimed her soul with his charming, if sometimes crooked, smile all those years ago, even if he didn't claim her brother. Toby had forgotten, or perhaps never remembered, having been a baby when it all happened before. Sarah has never forgotten. She cannot forget, and she did spend a number of years trying when she was younger.
But now she cannot, and she does not want to. Everything in her strives to return to the land that is truly her home, and that is not this place, no matter how many years of her life she's spent year.
A waitress approaches her; Sarah stops her with a raised hand. "No," she speaks calmly and softly for the declined gesture is not this woman's fault, nor even the fault of the man who so clearly finds her attractive. She supposes he is better look than most of the mortals, but that's just the thing: None of this people can or ever will be able to compare to her King.
She pays her check and leaves, making a mental note not to return to this establishment either and avoiding the stranger's eye contact. She does not see him follow her out into the night, nor does she see the shadows in the alleys they walk pass pull him deep into them, black ribbons of seemingly empty air wrapping around his mouth and eyes before engulfing him entirely. She also does not see the owl that silently follows her home, or comes to roost in a familiar spot in the lone tree outside. Jareth tucks his head in his wing, content to wait.
The End