A peach to thee,
Xarael
Play
I am me.
Mmmm...now there's a novel thought.
Still, it's important. Oh yes, so important. Very very important. Am I making my point, here? Well, monotony is a sin. But, it is rather important.
Important that I say it, important that I think it, important that I believe it.
Really believe it.
Really believe in it, for that matter.
Because, you see, if I don't...well, what will sustain me when he returns? Whatever shall I say when he makes that ever-so-subtle entrance of his?
With whatever damnable offer he has devised for me.
He's forever smug about it. Just can't resist adding to insult to injury, as it were. Loves to rub your face in it. He likes to make you aware of exactly how much power he has over you, how well he knows you. Quite an irksome, if rather irresistible, character. Abandoning you just when you wish him to be near. And he knows just how much it wounds me when he leaves me like that.
Bothersome man.
Of course, that's why I'm captivated by him.
If he simply professed his undying love or was sickeningly lovestruck like all the others, begging for my attention, absolutely enthralled by my crystalline beauty, my luxurious auburn curls, my fierce eyes, my strength, my passion, all that rot - well, I wouldn't be in this position, now would I?
The only man to capture my attention in at least - what, twenty, fifty years? I don't know. The nights blur together after awhile. An outpouring of passion here, a romantic dance there, someone begging me to sing, begging me to kiss them. Warm embraces. Nameless faces. Beauty, beauty everywhere.
The nights meld together unless something distinguishes them, grabs my attention as it were.
And he has done that, damnably interesting man that he is.
He would have to be Jareth. Cruel, magically inclined with a wicked intellect and extremely evil sense of humor.
Well, we do have a lot in common after all. The magic aspect is relative, of course.
I suppose I shall have to play at the psychological game again when he returns. Silly thing to do, actually. It's mind chess and he's the uncontested international Grand Master.
Still, I like to play. One of my many faults. It's what got me into this whole eternal night business in the first place. Can't resist a challenge of wits. Or really a challenge of any kind. Too much self- confidence, that's my trouble. I live with the unshakable belief of victory. But it has worked to my advantage in this little game. I've resisted him so far. Thwarted his will. Kept him at bay, as it were.
Which is, of course, why he returns to me. My dear Goblin King is not particularly fond of losing. He's not particularly used to it, either. Usually the sex appeal does them in. Or the magic. I'm susceptible to both. I just refuse to admit it. Or even show it, for that matter. I do have my own after all.
Besides, the minute he receives any encouragement, any submission - the game is over. He has made his conquest. His interest is lost.
And I do not plan to lose that. What would I be without him?
Easy question. Incredibly bored.
And so, I shall tease and taunt and seduce and play. I shall keep my faith in my own self. I shall not accept any offer, no matter how tempting. And believe you me, they will be very tempting. A being with that much power has an imagination to go with it. Not to mention a mind of his own. A lovely, complex mind which can be toyed with to my heart's content.
He treats me as the innocent one, the foolhardy one - the one who does not know what she truly faces. He does seem to derive a certain pleasure from challenging people with that temperment. Silly little girls. I am a silly, foolhardy little girl, I admit to that. And I'm going to remain that way for quite awhile. Well, the young girl part at any rate. That's not going to change ever again. The silly, foolhardy quality is apt to, however. It is only the surface. Well, what I manifest as the surface.
This he knows.
I have a lovely, complex mind all my own. Cultivated from a bit of experience.
This he also knows.
It is an interactive sport of sorts between us two. Very amusing, actually. Which is a good thing as I haven't much else to do with my time, being somewhat immortal - well, more or less.
Ah...the sizzling lightning flashes, the booming thunder rolls. My Jareth has a flair for the dramatic, no? Let us see what the game is tonight.
"Lovely entrance, as usual. The timing's a bit off, though. I haven't even said the words yet," I commented, the notes of my voice wafting up towards the ceiling, into nothingness.
I was lounging, looking very vulnerable and charming as usual, on the sumptuous bed in my lavishly decorated abode. I always did have a penchant for luxury. Lack of it in my early years, I suppose. At this particular moment, I was staring at the intricate gold- enamel embellishments on the ceiling. Pointedly not looking in his direction.
He loathed it when he didn't have his audience's full attention. I could feel his irritation. So very controlled. A really good show of elegance and refinery on his part. Such a pity that it is so very hard to hide your feelings from one who has my powers of observation. The corners of my mouth twisted up in what I can honestly describe as nothing but a smirk. I try to be ladylike, really I do. But sometimes...well, it's all so very comical. He noticed the smirk, of course, and grew just a bit more irritated.
Score Jalen 1, Jareth 0.
"You're not much for ritual. I thought I would pass over that particular one tonight," he said, with just the right amount of annoyance invading his voice. Very measured voice, very calm. He was staring at me with those enchanting mismatched jewels which pass for his eyes. There are so few with eyes like that. That was most likely the reason he chose to manifest himself with those eyes; I'm very partial to the movie representation of him. He was attempting to intimidate me with his gaze, of course. And that disarmingly seductive curl of his lips. Standard battle tactics.
"I only follow what is required. The only being awake during the night thing, for example. That's a sort of necessity. Speaking of which, it was rather considerate of you not to come at sunrise this time. Very fair of you, actually." Ah, it's a talent to choose my words with such care. I play mind chess with a certain flair.
I twisted a copper curl around one white finger and absently toyed with it, pulling and stretching and touching. He's entranced with my tresses, with their vitality and their strength. Felt an exquisutely powerful desire to touch them the first time he answered my "summons." Would never actually say it, of course. But he let the thought slip once and now I use it as my counter attack.
"And to think, some actually accuse me of unfairness. Rather regularly."
"They tend to have a reason for it, if I recall." I laughed. I am forever laughing at such things. It's extraordinarily irksome to most everybody. Bad habit, I suppose. Not much I can do about it. It's part and parcel with my quietly exuberant personality.
He put on a facade of anger. Eyebrows drawn down, evil stare, mouth compressed, the whole bit. He thought I was laughing at him. At him! The Almighty Goblin King who had the magic of the crystals, so to speak, at his proverbial fingertips!
Well, I was.
"Oh, drat. I've gone and angered you again," I snorted. It's an interesting thing, to hear a vampire snort. Everything I do is with a fluid grace. Even snorting. Quite an interesting sound. Actually, it's rather funny.
His eyebrows twitched.
I snorted again. And again, adding a few pig gestures. I'm a lovely little actress when I want to be. Upbringing again. Plus the incredible mimicry powers of our kind. I kept it up for a few seconds, watching him fight not to shatter his pose of perfect menace with a laugh.
"Oh, come on! Drop that malevolent act of yours. You know you want to." I went into rapid snorting, daring him not to lose his control. A battle of wills on my terms. And an innocuous one at that.
"And how exactly is it that you know what I want, hmmm?" he queried, adopting the superior, mocking tone he reserves for tormenting his opponents.
"Firstly, I'm a vampire, love. Sensing the thoughts of others comes with the job description. Secondly, I'm female. Watching your every movement to discern what you're really thinking underneath all that...," I said, waving my hand languidly in his general direction, "is a trademark move. Quiet about that last part, though. You didn't hear it from me."
He regained control. Must have been the comment about female adulation. His face was frozen in its mask of menace. He wasn't going to let me claim victory with a laugh. Damnable man. This was going to require a bit of finesse. With a catlike movement, I drew myself up off of the bed. Ah, the limitless power of simple grace. I do so revel in it. And now for the role of femme fatale. Eyes turned towards the ground, hand behind the back, I walked up to him. Slowly, measured steps and all that. A bit like stalking. Right to his face, so close I could feel his breath. He was watching me with that alarmingly cold and guarded look of his which I have come to know so well. I turned the full force of my gaze - which has been termed mesmerizing by some, intimidating by others, and rather seductive by the whole lot - onto him.
Bending close to his ear, close enough to kiss, close enough to hear the vein in his neck throb, I whispered, "If you're really set on it, you can still work in an evil smile. I promise it won't ruin your whole sinister persona. Trust me. I do it all the time. No one ever murmurs a disparaging word."
A glittering, hard smile spread across his features. "I doubt they say much of anything once you're through with them."
"Well, fine, if you're going to use logic and reason."
The smile grew wider, revealing all his teeth. And it was warmer, a true smile. The look in the eyes, however, was quite predatory. He could have been one of us out on the hunt, admiring his newly discovered quarry.
"Jalen."
"You always do go for the dramatic approach. Saying my name and leaving it at that without further comment. Jareth." Deliberate mockery. I do so love treading on thin ice around him. I was reveling in this little psychological jab for a bit before I noticed his careful scrutiny of me. I suddenly mimicked his predatory gaze, his mocking smile, his body stance. I was playing mirror. But it was more than that - it was a parody of him, of his menace and his anger.
"And what exactly is it you think you are doing, hmmm?" He made to snatch my chin, lift my face to stare directing into what he knew were his penetrating eyes.
I grabbed his hand before he made it halfway there. And let it go no further. Score 2 for Jalen. "I thought you might like a different point of view than usual. You're usually the intimidator. Now you have the intimidatee's point of reference. And, yes, that is how you appear." I flung away his hand and turned my back on him in mock boredom.
Ah, now is time for the commanding, all-knowing, you-don't-know-what- you're- getting-into voice.
"I wouldn't do that if -"
" 'I were you.' " I slowly returned my own personal penetrating gaze back to him. "Yes, I do believe you've mentioned that. You really ought to come up with a few different quotes. These are getting a bit threadbare. And the question which still flits about in my pretty little head is why I shouldn't do whatever it is I want around you. Oooh...I'd just love to hear the answer to this one." My sarcasm was shining through. He, however, ignored it and forged ahead with complete seriousness.
"Because of what I'm about to give you."
Play (3)
"Oh lovely, we've come to this part. And the offer du jour - or perhaps, more fitting, du nuit - is...?"
Very nonchalant. "Myself."
Check.
I inhaled slightly and considered this new twist of events. My eyes were locked on his and, for a moment, I forgot my role of adversary and merely gazed at what I saw. Gazing at the beauty in the planes of his face, gazing at the cultured sophistication of his mouth, at the complex colors of his eyes, at his long lustrous blonde hair. How I do love blonde hair, hair like gold. Like the sun. It's the closest I ever get to sunlight, I suppose. A subconscious longing manifesting itself. Ah, but it was time to return to the situation at hand. He had obviously seen through my continuing charade awhile ago. He knew I wanted him, wanted the taste of him, wanted to know him, the whole complexity of him, the truth that only comes out with the blood-
I decided to search his mind on an impulse. I was prepared to be very subtle about it, get under his mental armor, of which he has a prodigious amount, and all that sort of thing. But his mind was open. The shield was down, the gates were open, the walls were torn down. Infernal damnation, but he was good at this. His mind was there for my perusing pleasure. And, My God, there was no trick lying in wait. No trap. Nothing of the darkness which is the mark of deceit. He really meant to be my victim. But this must be wrong. How could he want such a thing? To surrender to me. It was the exact antithesis of his personality. Last I recalled, he was the one who liked to wield the power around here. Unless this whole open mind bit was an illusion which masked his true thoughts. Something meant to gain my trust. He'd have to wait much longer than this year I've known him before I awarded him that. The Master of Illusions. As if I'd give away my faith so easily to him. But there was that firm wish to have me feed off of him. Did he think it would be pleasurable, to have me drain him? I mean, I have my talents and all but that simply defied logic. Jareth had two main motives to everything he did, either power or amusement. Our battle, as it were, I considered in the realm of amusement. This new proposition obviously wouldn't be all that amusing for him - well, not beyond a few lovely, shuddering sensations on his part. It had to be power, then. This was one hell of a move, though, I had to grant him that. I couldn't even begin to analyze it. Not without further information, anyway. Mmmm...now how to extract that, that was the trick. The innocent little girl routine wasn't going to work for this one. Well, he wanted power...perhaps I should evince a bit of my own. Power trip possibilities. I always did love those.
It was check, all right, this move of his. But not checkmate. Yet.
I was still, only my eyes evincing life. I absolutely love doing that, by the way. It's a rather haunting effect, like watching a statue come to life. Nothing but my eyes betrays the truth of my existence. It has the tendency to excite fear in most, these fierce eyes staring from an inert form. Not that I'm bragging, of course. I don't like to brag - ah, that's such a lie. I love to brag. Ah well. Personality fault again. Goes over quite well with mortals, though. Now was a chance to try with a non-vampire immortal. I didn't know if he was immortal, actually. Well, he wasn't mortal as I defined it. Might as well be immortal.
I riveted my eyes on his subtly imposing figure. Subtlety really is his preferred style. He's perfected its elegance. Ah... look at him. He really goes to such lengths to appear regal and majestic for me and the rest of the world.
And quite regally and majestically, he was growing impatient for my response. He really did want me to react to this bit of news. Always one for amusement, I swear. Well, I could be amusing, oh yes, so amusing, my dear Jareth. You have no idea just how amusing.
I projected images of the ballroom scene at him. Let him think I've succumbed to his offer. I broke my pose of stillness and walked until I was inches away from his face. From his mouth. His lovely, cruel mouth. I was in full project mode so I couldn't sense his thoughts, whether he believed me. But, he wasn't staring with that steely, cold look anymore. There was a dash of triumph in them - and pleasure. Good. It's times like these I really love having ethereal beauty. I rose to touch his warm mouth with my own cold one, my eyes closing ever so slowly, so seductively -
I seized the sides of his regal skull in my immensely powerful ivory grasp. Much the same way he grabs a girl's chin to have her stare into his eyes. I really can't help myself sometimes. The urge to mock is so powerful with someone as arrogant as he is.
"Well?" Perfect imitation of the sardonic, impatient voice.
"Well what?" He was more than a bit incensed that he wasn't able to free himself from my grip of stone. That was easy enough to sense. But he refused to show his anger, to admit that I had rankled him. That was a sign of weakness. We're both extraordinarily stubborn that way. I, for one, had my mental armor erected. Logic had precedence over emotions at any time, especially with Jareth. Though he was trying to defy it now.
"Where's the rest of it? The ands, the ifs, the buts, the stipulations, the addendums, the challenges, the rest of it , love."
Play: part 4
"Ah yes...that." The predatory smile reappeared. He was enjoying this, his version of the hunt. The smugness was getting to be quite overwhelming. I had the overpowering urge to smack him, to shock him, do something to stop that extended smirk. Ah, but the need for control was acute. Loss of control was a sign of weakness. Well, perhaps I would just roll my eyes and flare my nostrils at him, then. That's usually a rather disconcerting gesture, even if it would make my irritation apparent. He wouldn't notice it anyway; he was too busy looking about at our surroundings. Like an actor checking out the scenery on stage, making sure everything was right before he said his lines. Well, this was a play, after all, with clearly defined roles and ill-defined lines. I waited for his soliloquoy to begin. It had to be a soliloquy or something equally long and protracted because he was certainly taking his time about it. Actually, no, it could be a devastating one liner...sort of an antithesis to the long wait beforehand. That was more his style.
He made a show of surveying the entire room, shifting his gaze from the windows to the desk to the dresser to the bed, taking it all in, ever so slowly, so regally. He may not have minions to rule over all the time but he is a king, that much is for certain. No other attitude is as annoying as that of royalty. He then fixed his eyes on me, placing his hand under my chin and lifting it. Well, I wasn't about to wrench my neck out trying to get away from that grasp. Besides, I had him in my own. We were on even ground now.
I was growing a bit impatient at this self-important, pseudo-intimidating pause of his. And the silent scrutiny of my attire in which he was now engaged. I began drumming my fingers on the side of his head. "I know I have superb taste and all but are you planning to get to 'that' anytime soon? I haven't got all night, you know."
"Really. And what were you planning to do?" Unperturbed by the incessant drumming on his face, he moved the free hand to my auburn curls, intertwining his long fingers in them. He thought to influence me with his touch. It was extraordinarily pleasurable, I'll grant him that. But I'm not swayed so easily. Actually, persuasion through pleasure-inducing touch is something I'd use myself. Better to give than to receive, though. That is, if you're planning to win. I usually am.
"Well, when you're through playing with my hair," I replied, with just a twinge of sarcasm, "the first thing on my things-to-do list is eat. I wouldn't, of course, want to deprive you of pulling my curly locks, so I'll simply wait until you're finished." His eyes hardened at my words. "Yes, I do know how you like them, the feel of them, their silkiness." I put on a sweet smile, showing my long, sharp canines. It's an interesting mix, at least, from what I've been told. Like a savage angel. That's what one of my mortal admirers said once, anyway. "Now, love, get over my hair and get to your point. I'm hungry and the city awaits." I do love that last line. It's from a movie about vampires, of all things. Rather appropriate. And it has just the right touch of petulance and longing.
"And Where are You Going in this city of yours?" Ah...trust Jareth to use a Labyrinth line for the first part. All clipped and mocking. One of my favorites, though. From that scene with Hoggle when he gives that poor, addled dwarf the peach. So imperious, his tone. So utterly superior. I love it, really I do.
This, however, was not the time to share that sentiment. I loosened my grip and slid my hands slowly down, caressing his strong jaw line, resting my hands on his shoulders. My hands were so cold on his warm skin. I saw a quick, involuntary clenching of his jaw. They must really be like ice, my hands. Ah well, let him suffer that wintry cold touch for a bit. It wouldn't kill him. Though I just might with this half-proposed offer of his. I really did need to feed, though. Otherwise, I'd begin to get snippy. Always happens. Remnant from my mortal days. I get hungry and then I get nasty. It gives an edge to my hunting, actually. "I thought I'd go perusing in the 'bad' part of town. There's always a few unsavory characters there just begging to be chased. And I so hate to disappoint them."
"You always take the evil-doers, hmmm?" The hand under my chin moved to my mouth, touching one of my more evil looking teeth.
"I'd be careful where I put my fingers, if I were you. I do bite." This evinced a soft laugh from his Highness. And the endangered fingers withdrew to my hair. "Ah lovely. Someone's in a more congenial mood." I ran the back of my hand across his neck and let it linger there awhile. "As for the question of evil-doers, evil is relative." I paused dramatically, a mockery of his lengthy pause. "Nastiness, however, vulgar savagery, that's easy enough to distinguish. And they're my favorites anyway. They taste better to the conscience." I began to play with that omnipresent pendant of his. Sort of stroking it, twisting it around my fingers, like a little child captivated by shiny objects, wondering over its surface. And letting the coldness of my flesh seep through to his warm chest. A subtle reminder of my hunger. "I've answered your question. I still await the answer to mine. Honestly, a bit of tact, Jareth. It's not proper courtesy to keep a lady waiting. Especially before breakfast. Or is it lunch by now? It doesn't matter, actually. The point's the same. Speaking of which, get to yours, love."
"Jalen." He stretched out the syllables of my name, in that perfect deep, rich voice which makes me shudder. Not as fluid as a vampire's voice, not as guttural as a human's. The sensual mixture of the two, with an inestimable grace to it all. Damnable man, he was becoming seductive again. Then, I felt the back of one hand against my neck, running the length of it. A parody of my gesture a few moments before. Deliberately exaggerated, deliberately extended. Well, we mock each other. That is the way of things. "Jalen, you're getting irritable...snippy, I believe is how you put it." Ah...he had been infiltrating my thoughts the entire time. Irritatingly crafty man. "I think I shall accompany you on your hunt and then we'll discuss my offer more thoroughly."
"So you want to see how I operate, do you?" I laughed my silky, silly-you laugh. He's not the only one who has one of those. Very useful thing to have, that laugh. He didn't really expect to pull off that whole I-just-thought-I'd-go- hunting-with-you bit. He couldn't have. Obviously, he wanted to observe me. Or my prey. But, simple and direct communication has never been our strong point.
I turned my back on him and padded softly out the glass door to the balcony. The thunder and lightning had stopped, of course. He hadn't needed it for anything other than his entrance. I sprung onto the painted metal railing and stood, balancing on my toes with my usual easy grace. Then, with a plie, I leaped to the garden below. Landing in second position, I pirouetted about to look up at him. Snippy I may get, but I never lose my sense of playfulness. He was staring at me with those hauntingly beautiful eyes - and a bemused look on his face. Now, to heighten the comical aspect of this and turn the bemusement to laughter. A tinge of impatience in my upturned hand. I assumed a perfectly sober demeanor, as if doing a ballet dance off the third story of my house were the most ordinary thing in the world. A touch of exasperation in the voice. And the hint of a jester's mischevious smile.
"Well, love, were you planning to come?"
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