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Drabble #181: Crooked
...we had a nice response to the drabble prompt of Drabble 180, with entries by ![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
apachefirecat and redwolf and comments by apachefirecat and redwolf
For this prompt, we continue with our one-word/phrase drabble roots:
Crooked
Tell us all about it. Labyfic-style, of course.
Given our entries from recent months, let's continue with the suggested limit 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
$your_beautiful_drabble
I'll be running weekly challenges in the space aroundjalenstrix's monthly challenges.
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.)
apachefirecat and redwolf and comments by apachefirecat and redwolfFor this prompt, we continue with our one-word/phrase drabble roots:
Crooked
Tell us all about it. Labyfic-style, of course.
Given our entries from recent months, let's continue with the suggested limit 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
$your_beautiful_drabble
I'll be running weekly challenges in the space around
jalenstrix's monthly challenges. 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.)
Tangle
Sarah lay on her back as the sea of ankle length grass rippled around her in the breeze. She raised an arm to point at the sky and scowled in annoyance at the tiny spark of light that shot from her finger like the most unimpressive firecracker in existence.
“That one was bigger,” Bishop calmly stated in a manner not unlike that used to encourage toddlers who were just getting to grips with this walking business.
Sarah huffed, quietly certain that he hadn’t bothered to look up from the book he was reading. “I don’t need you to humour me.” She was frustrated that she’d pulled off a nicely atmospheric light show that feigned a lack of control to get out of a meeting, yet now she could barely summon a spark.
“Why don’t you pivot and practise something not light related?” Bishop turned a page in his book.
She was about to snap back that there was nothing on the hill but grass to practise on and setting it alight seemed to be beyond her at the moment, when Sarah recalled the grass knots the guardians tied when they gathered outside.
Plucking a couple of blades, Sarah held them up and glared at them, willing them to weave themselves into a knot. Her brow furrowed as she pictured the way the knots were tied and tried to channel her magic into replicating the pattern. The grass in her hand quivered slightly before drooping in a blatant attempt to aggravate her.
If she had to deal with a threat, Sarah’s magic was formidable. Even the heightened level of emotion caused by an aggravating advisor served to sharpen her skills, but basic manipulation of objects beyond that was still a work in progress.
“Why is this so difficult?” Sarah dropped the grass and turned her head towards Bishop.
“You think like a human.” Sarah propped herself up on her elbows. “You don’t have a problem with communication crystals.”
Sarah thought about it. “Well, no, they’re just like telephones Above.”
“And you know how telephones work to replicate the technology?” Bishop raised an eyebrow in query.
“No, I just form a crystal and think of talking to someone like I would if I was using a phone.”
Bishop turned another page. “Perhaps you could use that as an example. Stop trying to force your magic to weave the knot as if you were manually tying it and just think of the end result.”
Cocking her head, Sarah glanced at the grass still held in her fingers, thought about the grass knots and laughed in delight as a bright green rope of grass appeared in her hand. The grass wasn’t quite the right type for manually tying a knot, so her creation was soft and fragile, but it was exactly what she had been picturing.
She held the little knot up and wiggled it at Bishop. “Fear my knot tying prowess.”
“Well done. I wonder if your problematic advisor is fond of pretzels.”
Re: Tangle
Re: Tangle
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
Re: Waiting Game