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labyfic2024-11-06 10:29 am
jalenstrix) wrote in labyfic2024-11-06 10:29 am
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Drabble #183: Whirlwind
...we had a nice response to my last posted drabble prompt of Drabble 178, with entries by
redwolf and apachefirecat, and commenting by both of them as well. Huzzah!As always, special labyfic love to
redwolf for adding entries and comments for several previous drabble prompts. You are the very best ever!For this prompt, we continue with our one-word/phrase drabble roots:
Whirlwind
What's all a-whirl (or who)? Why? How? Is someone sowing a whirlwind, reaping one, or perhaps both? 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
$your_beautiful_drabble
I'll aim to get my next drabble challenge out on the first Tuesday of next month (Dec 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.)
Morning After
It was past noon when Sarah finally managed to drag herself out of bed. The night before had been a whirlwind, and she was thankful it was the weekend. Toby was crying again in the nursery, but her stepmother still took time to glare at her as Sarah all but stumbled into the kitchen.
"Good heavens, you look a mess! I know you weren't out last night, Sarah, but goodness, what did you do?! Robert, look at your daughter!" She waved an imperial hand at Sarah in disgrace before turning and marching from the room, undoubtedly, to go take care of her spoiled baby. Sarah was glad Toby had survived, no matter what he may have cost her, but she still recognized how spoiled the little brat was.
She slumped into her chair. Her father noisily rattled his newspaper, a clear sign that he was disturbed by her appearance but would not speak to her. After all, his new wife wasn't in the room, so why waste his time and energy actually talking to his elder child? Sarah glowered again. She was in no mood to be disrespected... But then wasn't she always disrespected?
She had not been disrespected last night, but the events she seemed to remember so avidly could not possibly have been real. She could admit that, now that the cobwebs were clearing from her mind. Yet, if last night's adventure had not been real, why was she so tired now? She had never slept this late before! She also still hurt all over, especially her legs.
"Sarah," her father actually broke the silence, loudly turning to a different section in his paper, "what is that song you're humming?"
"Hm? Oh, am I humming?" What was she humming? She hummed a few more notes, and remembered the feeling of waltzing in strong and gentle arms. Her cheeks burned at the memory of laughter as well, but when they had been alone in his castle, she had certainly not felt the King laughing at her. He had been threatening, yes, but he had also been... Lonely? She closed her eyes and tried hard to think back, to shift through reality and the essence of this dream that felt so real as it continued to hang on to her in the light of day.
"Do stop. It's annoying. If you must hum, hum something sensible."
Sarah's eyes flashed open. She happened to be looking at the solitary window and was just in time to see a great, white bird take flight. Rushing to the window, she confirmed that it was indeed an owl as it flew away.
"What is wrong with you this morning?"
Turning, she caught sight of a bowl of fruit on the table and plucked a peach from it.
"Nothing." She bit into the peach. Nothing that a dream turning real cannot fix! Biting again into the peach's tender flesh, she made her way back to her room, where she let herself hum and dream.
The End
Re: Morning After
Dissonant
“You actually liked it?” Sarah stared at the woman in surprise.
Rook tapped a heavily loaded paintbrush against a finger, spotting the canvas with small droplets of paint. “Liked what, love?” She turned and Sarah noticed the tiny specks of paint that stood out in sharp contrast on her bare arms.
“That music.” For two words, Sarah managed to inflect it with a surprising amount of venom.
When Jareth and Rook worked in their studio, they often had music playing, usually in a randomly generated playlist that jumped genres, languages and species. However, if the tracks stuck to a theme, Sarah had learned that it was something that had caught Jareth’s ear that he wanted to share. That was what she had assumed she’d walked in on the previous day, when the discordant clangs and bone jangling vibrations had given her an immediate urge to be elsewhere. It was a whirlwind of sound so awful, that she felt it could be weaponised as an act of war.
“Of course.” Rook brushed hair out of the eyes, accidentally smearing paint across her cheek.
Sarah huffed in disbelief and leaned against a cabinet, her arms folded.
Rook handed her brush to Jareth, as she turned to face Sarah. “We both love music.”
She may not have said anything, but Sarah’s expression clearly showed that she did not classify the wall of sound she’d fled from as music, but she nodded to show her comprehension.
“Jareth is a musician with a knowledge and depth of understanding that I lack. He’s always interested in something new.” Rook walked across to Sarah and stood beside her, to watch Jareth as he continued to paint. “My love of music is contextual. He,” she jerked her chin towards Jareth. “Gets excited by tones and phrases and semi quavers.” Jareth snorted in amusement at her botched description. “For me it’s all about associations.”
Sarah nodded. “Like the soundtrack of a movie or the song playing during a road trip?”
“Exactly. I like your noise for the same reason, because of how happy Jareth was sharing it.”
While she could theoretically understand how they both interacted with music, Sarah still had trouble connecting what had sounded like an industrial accident that had been cycled through feedback to anything that could be interpreted as music. As they were both metalworkers, maybe it gave them a warm fuzzy feeling of banging metal with heavy hammers. She had missed living through her stepmother’s railing at her brother’s taste in music and had only gotten the highlights when she’d called home, but even at that remove, she was starting to feel a kinship with Irene’s frustration at the time.
“I’ll leave you to it.” Sarah crossed to kiss Jareth before she walked out. She had an urge to raid the castle’s cellars for a bottle of something interesting and take a trip Above to belatedly commiserate with Irene. Or at least get them both drunk enough to forget ever having heard the noise.
Re: Dissonant
And I had forgotten that Irene was the name of Sarah's stepmother! Thank you!
Re: Dissonant