Drabble #71: Empire
Friday, 3 August 2018 00:01![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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labyfic...we again had a quieter response to the drabble prompt of Drabble 70, with an entry by me (your intrepid drabble proposer
jalenstrix). The terrific 3iggy and gorgeous ghislaine represented the labyfic collective with commenting love — huzzah!Mwah to my labyfic collective! I miiiiiiiiss you, though. Come joooooooin us again!!
For this prompt, we continue with our one-word drabble roots, with a word inspired from the origins of the month of August (ave, Caesar, ave!):
Empire
Ah, the concerns of those who rule...likely Jareth, but perhaps not! Who knows what troubles an empire may face, requiring the help of a goblin king?
Given our entries from recent months, let's continue with the 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 (Sep 7).
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.)
no subject
2018-08-14 18:17 (UTC)Comments: My mind went straight to Star Wars. I couldn’t help it.
Drabble:
I closed my eyes briefly. “Look, I asked you here because I thought you might have useful experience with this kind of thing.”
“Your asking seems a lot like summoning.” Jareth sketched a mock bow as an afterthought. “Your imperial majesty.”
“Oh, stuff it, your majesty. If you’re not going to help, you can just leave.”
“When I can stay and pester you? Hardly. This is far more diverting.”
“You’re insufferable. I can’t believe I thought it was a good idea to ask you for help.”
“So why did you?”
I took a breath and lifted my chin. “My strategic battle planning skills need improvement. I’m more of a small skirmish kind of girl. Lead from the front, et cetera.”
He nodded sagely, steepling his fingers together. “Not wise for larger maneuvers.”
I snorted. “Don’t I know it. I’ve been trounced the last three battles, and my people are losing faith. I can’t afford another failure.” I smiled slightly, trying not to grit my teeth. “I need your help.”
“What will you give me for helping you?” He peered over his fingers, eyes alight with Faerie mischief.
I tilted my head. “What do you want?”
“Mmmm, your undying love and fealty?”
I snorted. “Seems like a poor trade when you already have it.” I held up my wedding ring and waggled my fingers at him. “You can do better than that, your majesty.”
“How about a proper date night this week? Steaks, good music? We were sadly interrupted last time.”
“That I can do.”
“Very well— I accept your terms. Tell me about your campaign, oh Empress.”
“Insufferable,” I muttered. “Alright, the Rebellion troops are in these three spots, and I have two actions per move, and one move before they respond. I have a semi-operational Death Star that delivers a major morale hit, but it’s slow.”
“Can you pan the view this way? Mmm. I see. You’re in a bit of a pickle, aren’t you? Any other assets?”
“A Sith Lord of questionable reliability named Vader.”
“Tricky. But not impossible.” He leaned over so one arm was on either side of me, his breath hot in my ear. “I have a plan for you.”
“I knew I married you for a reason.”
“More than one, I hope.”
“Definitely more than one.”
no subject
2018-08-24 12:38 (UTC)no subject
2018-08-29 21:45 (UTC)no subject
2023-05-23 09:09 (UTC)Drabble 71: Empire
2018-08-24 12:44 (UTC)A/N: The poem is Sylvia Plath ‘The Moon and the Yew Tree”
Could you really pick a path between the stars? Sarah thought. The girl was laying on a red flannel blanket in the overgrown backyard of the big old Victorian in which she’d grown up. The garden inhabitants—ancient rose bushes and drooping weiglia—were just beginning to decay. They stood no chance against the encroaching empire of autumn. The evening was riddled with signs of its advent.
Sarah shivered as she watched a new light appear in the sky. Picking paths would get increasing difficult as more and more stars became visible, as the world grew dark.
A sliver of twilight reflected on white wings stole her attention.
Sarah sat up and watched the owl deftly land upon the nearby branch of a friendly oak. It was quiet in the garden surrounded by shrubbery and her voice sounded like an interruption as she addressed the nightbird: The moon is my mother. She is not sweet like Mary. Her blue garments unloose small bats and owls. How I would like to believe in tenderness—The face of the effigy, gentled by candles, bending, on me in particular, its mild eyes.
“I had a dream about you once,” she said when the owl only shook himself in response to her recitation. She leaned back on her hands, dark hair sliding over her shoulders as she stared up at the owl who was curiously gazing down upon her.
“Are you a giver of gifts? An ender of worlds? Do you shatter time and remake it? Can you pick a path through the stars? Or move them as you wish? Do you turn worlds upside down and little girls inside out?”
The owl with graceful, careful movements came to rest on a lower branch.
“My what big eyes you have,” Sarah smiled up at him. “You’re an uncanny creature to come near and listen to a young woman’s musings.”
The owl came still closer.
Sarah smiled.
“Tell me, Great Emperor of the Night, do you lay claim to other realms as well? I do believe you may be a Tzar of Dreams, perhaps even a Winter Prince? Better yet, a Goblin King?”
The owl drifted to the ground. His light descent barely disturbed the thin layer of dry leaves.
“Perhaps you are a Rumpelstiltskin and I need only speak your true name to get what I want,” Sarah leaned forward mere feet away from the lovely creature.
A shiver sent pebbles racing across every inch of her skin as she let go of the world, as she focused on the night, on the owl and the magic they were creating. It could’ve been her overactive imagination, but there was something strange and wonderful about this bird.
“Jareth,” she whispered, her voice nearly swallowed by the crisp edges of the dark.
Between one blink and another the owl was no more. In his place was an elven man, all sharp points and angles, but just as fair as his feathered alter ego. He canted his head and his lips curled up at the corners—every inch of him marked for mischief—more imp than elf.
“Sarah,” he replied.
Somewhere in the back of her mind a childish voice was telling her to back away, not run, you should never run from immortal things, but leave. Sarah stayed where she was seated beneath the night sky. She would not back down from the Great Emperor of the Night, no matter what tricks he had in store for her. This garden was her kingdom after all.
Re: Drabble 71: Empire
2018-08-29 21:47 (UTC)Re: Drabble 71: Empire
2023-05-23 09:14 (UTC)Gelato
2023-05-23 09:16 (UTC)Drabble:
While Bishop and Rook were based Underground for the foreseeable future, Sarah knew they both travelled Above for brief periods. She wouldn’t have noticed their absences if it hadn’t been for Jareth’s behaviour. He was as giddy as a child awaiting Christmas morning and would pounce on them upon their return, then vanish with whatever gift they brought him.
Sarah found it oddly endearing that he telegraphed his actions with all the subtlety of a sugared up toddler. This was why she was quietly certain they were bringing him confectionery and pastries, as he was much the same with treats she brought him from the markets.
Based on past conduct she should not have been as surprised as she was when Jareth invited himself along on one of his Guardians trips, which was how she found herself sitting in a hole in the wall ice cream parlour sipping a sublime vanilla milkshake. Rook had a milkshake of her own, while Bishop and Grae shared an obscenely large banana split and she’d rather not dwell on any symbolism involved in that choice.
Sarah had tried to follow the conversation, but with Rook’s thickening accent and being unfamiliar with the shop talk, she soon was out of her depth. She did have a brief moment to wonder how she had missed that Grae had eyes like a husky, but the thought was soon lost to the delightful distraction of watching Jareth eat.
The ladies working the store counter had swooned over Jareth when he had ordered a single scoop of ice cream.
Sarah watched as he slowly ate it in the thoughtful manner of a wine connoisseur, before returning to the counter for another flavour to sample. She smothered a grin as she saw the ladies silently arguing over who would serve him next when they realised he was coming back for more. She did wonder if that excitement would shift to concern once they realised that he planned to try their entire selection, but suspected that when it came to ice cream, Jareth gave a credible impression of being hollow.
By the time the meeting had wrapped up, Jareth had managed to work his way through half the flavours and seemed completely oblivious to the gobsmacked expressions of the staff when he followed his efforts up with an order of a large container to go.
On their return Underground, Sarah shook her head in fondness as Jareth promptly vanished with his prize in hand. She smiled her thanks when Bishop handed her a single container of ice cream that had somehow escaped Jareth’s attention.
A quick walk to the Castle gardens saw Sarah watching the sunset over the Labyrinth as she enjoyed a decadent treat flecked with minuscule seeds. She may well regret her over indulgence in dairy products later, but as the vanilla ice cream melted on her tongue, she mused that if Jareth’s reaction was the norm amongst Fae, with enough ice cream, she could easily rule the Underground.