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labyfic2019-10-04 04:21 pm
jalenstrix) wrote in labyfic2019-10-04 04:21 pm
Entry tags:
Drabble #85: Typical
...we had a quieter response to the drabble prompt of Drabble 84, with an entry by me (your intrepid drabble proposer
jalenstrix).For this prompt, we continue with our one-word/phrase drabble roots:
Typical
What exactly is so typical? What interaction or situation (or sexy goblin king-ness) is just so very expected? Tell us all about it labyfic-style.
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 (November 1).
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
Author’s note:
Set in the world of The Beast Within. A typical training session early on in Sarah’s apprenticeship to Jareth.
Why are you always such an unmitigated ass?
I thought those words very, very hard as I stood waist-deep in something foul while his Royal Highness perched pristinely above me on a nice, clean ledge. But I didn’t dare say the words. I didn’t need a perceptual backlash from him that would leave me facedown in this sludge.
Jareth stretched one gloved hand in an elegant gesture, seeming to admire the way the sickly orange light of this hellhole dimension played on the black leather. “I suggest you stop glaring at me and focus on the task at hand.”
Fucking typical. I clenched and unclenched my fists very slowly beneath the muck. “What task might that be, sensei?”
He waved his hand through the air in a complicated motion that left a golden shimmering trail behind it. It sparkled beautifully, and didn’t tell me a damned thing about what I was supposed to actually do.
I breathed slowly through my mouth. The sludge was getting colder against my skin. Maybe if it actually reached freezing, it would stink less. A girl could hope.
The seconds dribbled by, giving me a chance to watch the sunlight streaming across his patrician features. They were damned fine features, and a girl had to take her pleasures where she could when she was learning how to surf the hell dimensions from her nephil sensei.
The seconds turned into minutes. Long, cold, stinky minutes.
Enough. “So since we seem to be at impasse, I’m just going to pop back home for a nice morning latte.”
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
I crossed my arms. “You can come, too. Maybe you just need your morning coffee to open up about what we’re doing here.”
He flicked a finger at me, and my perceptions began to wobble dangerously, picking up frantic speed.
Oh, hell, here we go.
But suddenly I felt something happening in response, like a gear turning. And then everything snapped. The perceptual wobble was like being on a ship, moving gracefully beneath me without dislodging me. And the muck felt different — pleasantly cool against my skin, almost velvety, and missing the telltale stench. Well, glory be. I’d managed, finally, to perceptually shift myself to be more in tune with my current environment.
I tilted my head to the side the way Jareth so often did. “Does this mean that Earth coffee is going to taste wrong?”
His smile had an edge of something in it. I think the bastard was actually proud of me. “Only if you forget to shift your perceptions back before trying it.”
“Do they make coffee in this place?”
“I wouldn’t recommend it.”
“Fair. So, are we done here?”
“For now.” He reached a hand down to me as if to help me out of the slime pit.
I stared hard at his hand, and then scrambled up by myself. “Sorry, not that much of a fool today.”
He shrugged, but the edge of pride in his smile sharpened. “Suit yourself.”
“Don’t worry, I will. With caffeine from beans roasted just so and frothed whole milk. After a good shower. See you, sensei.”
no subject
Typical
Drabble:
Sarah sat up and curled around a cushion, one hand still idly carding through Bishop’s thick fur. She startled as her clothes reappeared without warning and nodded her thanks to Jareth.
“I think we’re done for now, love.” Jareth set his sketchbook aside, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and his steepled fingers against his lips.
“You’re a thousand years old?” Sarah watched as Rook put her own sketchbook down and tidied the loose charcoal. Wiping her hands down her thighs just added to the general messy ambience of her attire.
Rook nodded. “Based on Above time, but it can be a little loosely synced with the Underground, so give or take a century.”
Sarah blinked at the casual disregard of her age. “Bishop told me, but I just thought he meant that you would outlive children because shapeshifters can heal themselves.” She trailed off. She had no trouble with the concept that many of the peoples Underground were nigh on immortal in comparison to a human lifespan, but maybe that’s where she was coming unstuck. Aside from their sharp teeth and some of them having slightly pointed ears, the guardians all looked human, so she just assumed they’d age the same. “And Bishop? He’s just as old?”
“Close.” Rook tilted her head in thought. “He’s a couple of hundred years younger.”
“Wow.” Sarah looked from Jareth to Rook. “So you’ve known each other all that time?”
“The Labyrinth doesn’t recruit shapeshifters younger than two hundred years.” Sarah turned to Jareth, who was still watching her calmly, and tried not to look like she was a little freaked out. “Rook and Bishop joined the guardians around five hundred years ago.”
This wasn’t just old friends from college, this was a group of people he’d been close to for hundreds of years. No wonder they treated each other like family. Well, like the families she was used to Above. From what Sarah had seen of high born families Underground, they leaned more towards the stabby end of the scale. She suspected this was part of the Labyrinth’s plan. It wasn’t just a long game to dismantle a millennia old slave trade and provide protection for the goblin kingdom in general and it’s king specifically, it had the added benefit of giving Jareth a family and support base that was unknown amongst high born fae.
Setting her cushion aside, Sarah rocked forward onto her hands and knees to look at the sketches. They had both drawn her in the same pose, but in different styles. Rook’s was all harsh lines that converged to show a woman reclining. While it was a beautifully rendered image of a naked woman, there was nothing about it that was identifiable as her.
Jareth’s sketch was a different matter. It was gorgeous. While the body was a series of simple lines, the face was recognisably her own. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered in reverence, awed at his skill.
“No more so than the subject, my love.”