A peach to thee,
Xarael
Play: Part 5
I earned the merest hint of a smile for my antics. The slight upturning of that cruelly casual mouth. An amused glint in the blue gaze. One hand cupping the chin, in that magnificent pose of the Thinker. Elbow on the painted white railing, balanced rather precariously on one of its many curlicues. Ah... look- he really was imitating the Thinker, pretending to sit down in meditative thought though there was no chair. He has a certain talent for mimicry, I'll admit to that. He's had enough practice at it, anyway. He did look quite dignified, leaning over the railing to look at me. Positively stately. Which just shows how well he can work his surroundings to his advantage. There are very few men who can appear imposing when they're desperately attempting to keep their balance. The slight twitching of the toe betrayed the illusion of ease. Still, a good show, all in all.
"This could really be such a Kodak moment, you know." I assumed the attitude of a photographer, holding a pantomime camera to my face. "Tilt the head a bit to the left, yes, and cock one eyebrow, very malevolent and superior, as you do when you're affecting amusement with some poor girl about to go solve a Labyrinth. " The aforementioned eyebrow was, of course, already in position as he regarded this latest fit of sarcasm. "Yes, that's it. Exactly as you are now. The picture of smirking superiority."
The smile grew just a bit wider as he began a rather flashy disappearing act. Obviously meant for show. Or, more accurately, meant for showing off. My photography session must not have been to his liking. This was his form of retaliation.
Still in the Thinker position, his feet began fading away. As though his essence were being leached away by some otherworldly force. Now his feet were gone and his legs were going. He was still balanced as if his feet were there, though. That must have taken a nice mental force to accomplish. The effect was rather impressive, too. Still smiling as well. I must admit, Jareth has considerably more mental stamina then one would suppose.
Now his arms faded, now his shoulders. The face was falling away into oblivion.
Except for the smile. Nothing now but the luminous, superior smile.
And there it stayed. He was pulling his own version of the Cheshire Cat disappearing act, irksome man. I really must have let my mental guard down. I'm partial to Alice in Wonderland, wonderful book of nonsense that it is. And now he was using it. Infernal damnation, I really needed to be more careful.
The smile was still there, manifesting itself on top of my balcony as if it had nothing better to do than wait for my reaction. Shining ivory against a velvet black backdrop. Such a sense of drama he has. Ah well. This must be my cue. It was time to improvise.
Hands behind my back, an inquisitive little girl posture. Soft, childish voice. "A Jareth without a smile I've seen - but never a smile without a Jareth." I rose up in the air, inquisitive Alice posture intact, and peered in mock curiosity at the smile which quite suddenly winked out. I smiled quite devilishly, showing my lovely sharp fangs. A darker Alice now. "Curiouser and curiouser."
I dropped back to the ground, arms outstretched, head thrown back, eyes closed, my hair whipping about me in complete disarray, savoring the feel of the rushing air against my skin. An almost sensuous stinging sensation. I must admit, flying is one of the most frightening powers a vampire can attain. But it is also one of the most liberating and exhilarating. What can I say? I'm addicted to it. Why walk when you can fly, why run when you can fly, why move in the stodgy circles of mortal transportation when You Can Fly?
Besides, it certainly cuts down on the travel time. Which is a very large bonus when you're hungry. Which I was. Which was doing very little to help my patience as Jareth didn't seem to be reappearing.
"Ja-a-a-reth... Ja-a-a-a-reth... Here, kit-ty kit-ty kit-ty...." I let the words drift away into the cool night air. I couldn't feel for his presence. I was cloaking my own and to search for him would reveal myself to others who wanted to find me.
I rose into the air again, my patronizing chant sounding softly over the treetops. But there was no response. Absolutely nothing.
"Nothing? Nothing! Nothing, Tra La La?" The words echoed in my ear.
Ignoring the obvious mental invasion, I turned lazily around to the source of this mocking remark, shaking my head in a directorial fashion. "Threadbare lines, threadbare lines... what did I tell you about threadbare lines?" I stared at him in pseudo-irritation. "This wasn't even an appropriate circumstance for them."
He was lounging, regally as always, in an overgrown maple tree. One leg thrown carelessly over a branch, the other hanging down with knee bent. An ivory hand under the face, mouth compressed into a wicked grin. Eyes regarding me with undisguised laughter. Then, he affected an angry, pouting attitude. "But the tone was appropriate. A soft, mocking tone. Of the general, all-purpose variety." He was playing the affronted actor, now, complete with affronted, almost petulant tone.
My turn, very businesslike with arms crossed and brisk tone. "Well, I'm sorry, sir, but you're going to have to re-audition at a later date and vary your performance more if you want to be cast in one of my plays."
He stared levelly at me, "Ah...but I believe I already am."
Play, part 6
We were meandering into the shadowy realm of the truth now. Stripped of pretense, yet so utterly encompassed by it. He is such a paradox, my Jareth is. A tantalizing mixture of contradictions. Utterly thoughtful in his assertion now. But still cruelly casual, the wicked smile returning at my sharp inhalation, that calculating mind wanting to see how I dealt -
"With this little slice." He was definitely enjoying this sort of thing a bit too much. Saying such words in that low, caressing voice, just bearly audible....a whisper on the wind, but still with that sensual timbre of the deep voice. Fierce eyes never leaving me, fully aware of their beautiful, intimidating power. Just a touch of superiority in those eyes. Making a show of how simple it was to penetrate my mental barriers. Irritating, irritating man.
"Some people do believe in knocking before they enter, love. It's only proper protocol. That's all I'm asking." One eyebrow raised at this, a perfect mask of skepticism now with the omnipresent smile. "Well, in terms of casually perusing my mind at your whim, that's all I'm asking."
I began to move from side to side, hovering at one side for a bit before moving to the other. Basic mental exercise of will. It's also my equivalent to drumming your fingers on a hard surface. The soft whooshing sound of the air repeating at regular intervals and all that. "What I'm asking as well, my dear actor, is what role you've marked out for yourself - since you claim to play one already."
Those eyes were following me again, as I swung from side to side. He really was rather determined not to lose sight of me during this little reverie. Perhaps I would make that a bit more difficult for him. I switched my course to up and down, then diagonal, then circling, wherever the wind currents swept me. The eyes never left me, though they were focused below my face now. On my neck, actually. One would think he was the vampire and I the mortal from that hungry look. I stowed this thought away in a black corner of my mind for future reference - and possible analysis. Of course, he could be eavesdropping on my thoughts at this very moment anyway. Actually, that was a given with him lately. Well, more or less. Letting me believe myself safe from his probing and then continuing my thoughts out loud at some opportune moment.
Dropping this line of thinking, I projected a rather blatantly inquisitive reiteration of my question at him and waited for a response. He took his time about it. Drawing a crystal out of the air, he absently played with it awhile, interspersing words between the juggling.
"I perform the role," he paused, switching the crystal to his right hand, "you cast me in." Another pause, longer this time. And he began to add some wrist movements. "Keeping with our predelection for drama imagery," now he tossed it back and forth between the two hands, "I have played this same role from the very first call-back."
At this point, I had stopped madly bounding back and forth and was hovering a few feet away from his tree. Watching that lovely crystal ball as it glided back and forth. I do so love crystal balls. Clear and clean and pure. And yet they can contain so many things. If you turn them a certain way and look into them, they'll -
"Show you your dreams. Yes, I'm rather fond of them myself."
"Courtesy, common courtesy...that's all I'm asking for. Honestly, how hard is that for you?" I murmured this softly, with only a slight touch of sarcasm, drawing closer and closer to that dratted crystal, loving to watch it move so fluidly between his hands and despising my lack of will for loving it. My eyes followed it as he twirled it this way and that, tossing it, rolling it back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. A rather shameless parody of my role earlier. And intensely hypnotic. Back and forth, back and forth, watch the tendril from the moon sway softly to and fro, back and forth, back and forth. Glitter, glitter like a star, how I wonder what you are...
My eyes were transfixed by the fleeting crystal ball, a whirling of light and translucent shape. I drew closer, and closer yet, a sliver of moonlight away from touching him. Staring at the lovely lilting shimmers of the crystal. Now settling on the nearby branch. And my hand resting languidly, absently, on his knee. And leaning closer, closer, my gaze for the crystal alone, my cheek resting lightly on his shoulder, rubbing softly against the velvety fabric, feeling the sculpted form beneath, just resting, waiting, waiting and watching. Mesmerized, mind completely blank, only images of the crystal, delicate touch of the hands on his back, sighing with pleasure, face pressed against the shoulders, hands pressed against the shoulders-
And then I calmly pushed him off the tree, neatly recovering the crystal before allowing him to fall to the ground below. Seeing his unguarded expression as he plummeted down for those few brief seconds was most gratifying.
"Hypnotize me with your crystals, will you? Really, I thought subtlety was one of your strong points."
Play: Part 7
In mid-plummet, both he and my crystal disappeared. Two playthings lost. Ah well. He would be certain to appear again shortly. Allowing a sparring match to end with me as the victor is unthinkable. Either exit dramatically as I struggle to retaliate or exit not at all; these are the only two choices my lovely Goblin King ever opts for. A bit predictable, on the whole.
"Which is one point I was going to address before you decided that casting me to the ground would be suitable entertainment." He was beside me again, stretched out luxuriously, languidly. And directing his magnetic gaze in my direction. There was no visible anger or wounded pride or pseudo- machoism or any of it. Simply the tranquil stare. An actor outside his character, contemplating the role he must perform.
"Yes...an actor contemplating his character. Very apt phrasing." He turned away from me, surveying the open night. Looking quite the tragic hero, actually. The pale hair caressed by the wind, whipping gently away from the angled planes of his face. The silky smooth shirt lying open in folds to reveal a smooth, ivory chest. A whiter shade of pale. Almost the color of my skin, but not so light. The flush of life still swept through him. And the slender legs drifting loosely, casually tossed to the side, the thin velvet stretched tautly, emphasizing the sleek angles of the muscles. The tilt of the face, the self-assured pose, the perfectly timed inhalation. So breathtakingly beautiful. And quite melodramatic. All of it.
Still, my eyes drifted to the curve of his neck of their own accord. All right, that's a lie. They went there because I wanted them to go there. To gaze upon that lovely pale swan's neck, that smooth flesh, the sensuous throbbing of that vein. I've never allowed myself to listen truly to that pulsing quiver, that shivering vulnerability, for fear of temptation. But to hell with temptation now. I silenced the burning flame of thirst and savored the simple elegance of the form - and the heady thumping of the pulse, the whirl of the blood passing through the veins, the pounding blood, the red rivulets of life, the blood, the blood, the pounding blood -
Infernal temptation.
"You play this game well, Jareth." A rueful smile, a slight bitterness tinging my words. I stretched out a hand, reaching across to finger the satin skin of his neck. To touch that vein, that pulsing line of warmth, of blood, of life. I drew my finger along the pulse, tracing the lines of it down. "A warning to you, my gamer." That irrepressible smile was turned towards me, a look of interest coloring it. A hand gracefully moved from his side to touch me. And was checked abruptly by a perfectly malicious glance on my part. "Don't push it, love."
"Now who's affecting a malevolent attitude, hmmm?" There it was, a pointedly mocking look from those blue eyes. Damnably superior. Yet not irksome, no. Not...unappealing. Rather alluring.
I paused for a bit at that thought, suspicions aroused, my face becoming a convenient mask of mocking scorn. They really are so useful, these masks. Allowing your mind to roam free for awhile, without the shattering intrusion of the outside world. The inside world is more to my liking anyway. Especially my inside world. A bit narcissistic, I suppose. But then, I've been told it's an endearing quality.
Which is exactly what this superiority of his shouldn't be. Something was amiss here. Now to think, to sort, to analyze, to...listen. I let my underhearing rise through the black depths of my consciousness, listening, feeling, straining to catch the undercurrents. Ah - there it was. The low insubstantial voice, the whisper of seduction, the hypnotic persuasive words...you love me... you want me... you love me... you want me... you love me you love me you love me you love me...
He really did believe in attacking on all levels. Admirable. Very admirable.
"Definite points for subtlety there, love. However, a fifteen yard penalty for lack of originality as specified before." I slipped off the branch, dancing and twirling in the air. Ah, arms in the air, that lovely breath of the wind as I turned round and round and round. I began laughing at the sublime idiocy of it all. Spinning faster and faster, an ice skater without the ice, pull the arms in, spinning faster and faster, back arching in a wonderful swaying motion, my curls whipping out to form an auburn halo, my eyes closed - and a grand finale finish, arms spread wide toward my target audience. Complete stop.
"Now," I whispered, "shall I leave you here to subliminally influence some poor unwary soul or will you be joining me for dinner as was, originally, the plan?"
I watched him, sitting there with annoyance and a bored sort of anger emblazoned on his features. He probably wasn't all that pleased that I had discovered this particular trick of his. Still, what did he expect, that I would acquiesce to mind control? Really.
But that stare of ice wasn't warming any. "Hmmmm....could that be a 'no'?" The melodramatic pause now. And then, the line. "Such a pity." I do so love being me at times like these. I could revel in this jab for at least a minute or so. Turning my back on him, I called out, "Well then, love, I really must be - "
My voice cut off in a startled inhalation.
"Off. Yes, somehow, I imagined that might be the case." He was there, in front of me. Floating effortlessly. Smiling quite angelically, which was quite an interesting study of contradictions with the devilish look in the eyes. He caught my outstretched hand, pulling me into him, as if we were partners of a dance.
"Really, darling, I'd love to tango and all that - but I do need a drink. I'll save you a dance, I promise. However, there are more pressing issues at the moment. In the city."
His grip tightened around me, pulling me right up against him. I could feel the heat of him through the smooth velvety cloth. It's a very good thing I have an extraordinary strength of will. Many of my immortal companions would have been putty at this point. Ah well, a point for Jalen, then. Though minus half a point for not having the strength of will to tear loose from his grasp.
"And what would you do, my dear Jalen, if I didn't let you go?"
I held his gaze. "You're far too interested in seeing me hunt for that to happen. Therefore, might we end this particular act and move on to the actual hunting part?" The hand encircling my waist removed itself and I began to move away. But my naked hand remained caught in his gloved one. "Jareth, love, do you have a particular interest in my hand or should I be expecting its release any time soon?"
"I don't think you should be expecting its release any time soon."
Interesting turn of events, this. "I retract my statement about your lack of originality. This I haven't seen before." And it meant I would have to contend with his pulse - quickening touch the entire way. Well, if I had a pulse, it would be quickening the entire way. As it was, my concentration was going to be very, very strained. Perfect. Just perfect.
"But you had better keep up, love. I don't take kindly to excess baggage."
The return of the wicked smile. "I don't either."
Competition. Now here was something I could contend with. "I always did love races." I swung around him, nestling my face on his shoulder. So close to his ear. "You are at a bit of a disadvantage, though."
"And how's that exactly?" I'm sure this was capital amusement for him.
I whispered into his ear, my lips so close, so close. "You don't know where the finish line is." A quick brush of my lips right above his neck, beneath the ear. "You're going to have to follow."
And then I tore away abruptly, pulling him off his feet. Or at least, had he been standing on the ground instead of hovering in the air, I would have pulled him off his feet. As it was, he was quite off balance and not all that amused by it.
If he could have his fun, then so could I.
Play: Part 8
He suffered some indignity at first, being forced to flail around a bit as I pulled him along. Very, very comical actually. For, of course, he flailed with his customary dignity. It was a delightful melding of clumsiness and grace; a paradox of movement. Somewhat akin, probably, to a vampire snorting. Extraordinarily funny to watch, as you would imagine. And how could I resist letting my laughter ring through the night air at such a spectacle as that? Exactly - not at all. Peals and peals of laughter, like the chiming of dozens of silver bells. The infectious kind of laughter. The little girl laugh. Ringing and ringing and ringing. Oh, I was enjoying myself immensely. Oh, yes.
But let us not forget the omnipresent gloved grip which encompassed my hand. That strong, viselike grip. I could feel the irritation through that hand, a slight tensing of the muscles. Such strong, sinewy muscles. The bend of his arm held my gaze, that soft satin cloth stretching over the elegant curves of his forearm, his shoulder. That delicious curve of his neck. Simply sumptuous. And a terribly simple window of opportunity opened for me then.
I would not, however, give my blood lust free rein. Not with Jareth. The end of our play would be more complex than that. Besides, I'd get so bored without him. The continuation of our play was what I was after now. A little tweaking of the emotions, nothing more. A little bit of fun. That's all I ever asked, was it not? Well, mostly.
He was still trailing me, though my lead was slimming. A bit of precision in the timing was all that was required. And a bit of skill.
I twisted around directly in front of him, slowing my speed enough that I was pressed against him, one of his arms entwined around me, one of my legs entwined through his. Sinuously curving my body about him, very femme fatale. It's a favorite role of mine. Fancy that.
We were completely wrapped around and through each other. Touching, feeling, sensing. And enjoying it. Completely pointless to lie. We were both loving it. And moving closer. The beginnings of a seductive smile were forming on my lips. His particular smile was already in place, widening ever so slightly as my hand stroked the smooth satin of his skin. Such a dark hunger in those lovely blue eyes, eyes like ice. But so full of heat. Male lust, thou art my friend.
Flying through the air, the rush of wind behind me, pushed closer and closer to his curving mouth, limbs pressed effortlessly against him, daring now to look into the blue expanse of his crystalline eyes - so close now, such a small bit of air between his mouth and mine, hungry looks in the eyes, lips almost touching-
And I lifted my mouth high, snapping my evil white teeth at that perfect patrician nose. A little nip, a teasing act of cruelty. His mouth ended up buried in my neck. and lingered there a good while. Warmth and heat and the press of that silky mouth against my cool skin. Silk against silk. A larger teasing act of cruelty. Inventive cruelty really is a gift.
I swung around him suddenly, disentangling myself and pulling away rapidly, just as before. The warmth of his breath clung to my neck. Along with the psychological jab I had just inflicted, I could savor that heady rush of heat from his lips.
"Cruelty and affection, a most interesting mix of intentions, Jalen. Ah yes, and lust. Let us not forget that." The pressure of his hand on mine was terrible. Hard enough to shatter a human's bones. How lucky that I'm not human. Of course.
"Damnable man, stay out of my thoughts." It was meant to come out as a soft growl. A throaty purr resulted. Still in seduction mode. Control, control...I needed to shift between so many roles; concentration was a must. My blood lust wasn't helping at all. Nor any other lust, real or pretended. This "body is willing" bit was becoming aggravating.
"That was merely observation. Your... actions... were rather easy to read." So smug, so infuriatingly superior his voice. But a voice so soft and caressing....ah, such a pity it was so condescending. I could have melted into it, really. Not that I actually would have, you understand. But it could have been a distinct possibility, that lovely deep voice. However, now was the time to be flippant and sarcastic. Very natural tendency anyway.
I smiled bewitchingly into his beautiful face. "You aren't the only one who can assume a role, love."
"This role fits you rather easily." Such a deeply resonant voice, floating around you, enveloping you, stroking your skin with its touch. Such powers of concentration I have.
"Vanity, Jareth be thy name."
And he laughed at that. Laughing and laughing and laughing....a song of laughter, a sound like the chiming of very deep and musical bells. Laughter like my laughter before. Somehow I doubted that imitation being the sincerest form of flattery applied here.
"So happy to amuse you, love."
"You usually are."
The gloved grip on my hand was tight and I had a distinct feeling it wasn't loosening any time soon.
"Jareth, love, you do realize we look like two lovers strolling, as it were, down lovers' lane. Not exactly the character you usually pick out for yourself."
Simply a wicked grin from him.
"Now you decide to expand your repertoire. Such timing." I whispered softly, to no one, to the air, to the wind, to the empty expanse of night sky. And resisted the powerful urge to roll my eyes in annoyance. Still a girl after all. "Timing, timing, you really do need to work with this timing business, you know that, don't you? All that talk about reordering time and you still can't time anything correctly."
The grin grew quite amused. Still beautiful, still perfectly wicked. But terribly amused. That wasn't the effect I had been looking for. A flash of anger might have been nice. Or a sign of irritation, at least. He fingered my hand, each finger touching the skin in turn, so softly. Caressing. Controlling.
I don't take well to domination. Silly Jareth, tricks are for kids. And auburn-haired, golden-eyed vampires.
Such fun to be had tonight.