Don't tell me truth hurts, little girl, cause it hurts like hell...
Who: The Baron, sort of, and Castiel? If he feels like following him.
What: When did I start sleeping in a coffin?
When: Around 1 AM
Where: The Castiel/Byron Residence
Rating: K for Konfused Goblin Kings
Status: Semi-private / Incomplete
Night was the time of the Nobility, a span of hours feared for generations past count, and it was always heralded by the same sound. Just after sunset, the hinges of a coffin deep in the old mansion creaked. If anyone present had known the blood-freezing terror that sound evoked in residents of The Frontier, perhaps the eerie mansion by the park would have a different reputation than it did.
As it was, Byron Balaz woke to start another night with a vague sense of forebode. That anything troubled the handsome young man was cause for alarm by itself, for surely someone as beautiful and powerful as Baron Balaz could face any danger, and surely, he had. He had fought remnants of an alien race that had devastated the Nobility, had done battle with Lord Vlad, the man he called father, and no doubt one of the oldest and most powerful Nobles of the age.
So what could trouble him so?
The night passed quietly. He had drawn up plans for what to do with the garden Castiel had taken to when they first arrived. As soon as the ground allowed, it would be seeded and adorned with a combination of night and day blooming flowers. As much as the angel seemed to enjoy it as it was, 'something about the natural beauty of God' Byron had assured him that an ordered chaos would be just as pleasing. What he hadn't said was that the exact layout was an homage to his own childhood and the flowers his mother had planted and tended.
Just as he was about to lay the plans aside for the evening, the sense of forebode that had been prickling at the back of Byron's mind rose to an absolute panic for about a split second, before something happened. For a split second, agony, to a Noble, he was aware of his body changing, changing in a way that was impossible. For the briefest of moments, Byron was aware that his body was capable of enduring sunlight.
And then The Baron was quite gone. In his place sat a man of comparable height and physique, sitting at the same desk, in the same clothes. The only notable difference was his hair , which had straightened and gone wildly long. The Goblin King Jareth blinked, shook his head wildly and stood in a rush.
"What the devil?!" He'd only just been lounging bored in his castle, dozing maybe, there hadn't been much to do lately. "What kind of trickery is this?" Jareth glanced at the desk, there were scores of hand written notes, a half written letter to someone named Kimberly, and a glass of a clear, strangely thick liquid. Experimentally, a gloved hand picked it up and took a sip...and promptly spat it back out. Clear blood?
If he didn't know any better, he was in the human world...but how, without his knowing....? Very, very slowly, Jareth made his way to the nearest window and cracked it open. The easiest way to figure out where he was, was to take his other form and survey things. A quick glance in the window revealed that he way wearing a shirt of deep blue brocade.
Okay, so at least whoever had brought him here had great taste in clothes. Once the window was open, Jareth closed his eyes and took the form of a barn owl, flapped twice, and sailed out into the night. With a great sense of releif, one of the first things he saw was....
A castle. Of course, it was starting to make sense. A rival king and sorcerer had done this to him, and wanted to see him struggle.
'We'll see about that, won't we?'
Taking an updraft, Jareth glided gracefully through the night, taking some time to think about how to go about confronting his nemesis. Finding that it was late and the streets were mostly empty, he dove into an alley, transformed back, and slipped off down the street.
'Whoever they are, if they think they can get away with disgracing the Goblin King, they are sorely mistaken."
What: When did I start sleeping in a coffin?
When: Around 1 AM
Where: The Castiel/Byron Residence
Rating: K for Konfused Goblin Kings
Status: Semi-private / Incomplete
Night was the time of the Nobility, a span of hours feared for generations past count, and it was always heralded by the same sound. Just after sunset, the hinges of a coffin deep in the old mansion creaked. If anyone present had known the blood-freezing terror that sound evoked in residents of The Frontier, perhaps the eerie mansion by the park would have a different reputation than it did.
As it was, Byron Balaz woke to start another night with a vague sense of forebode. That anything troubled the handsome young man was cause for alarm by itself, for surely someone as beautiful and powerful as Baron Balaz could face any danger, and surely, he had. He had fought remnants of an alien race that had devastated the Nobility, had done battle with Lord Vlad, the man he called father, and no doubt one of the oldest and most powerful Nobles of the age.
So what could trouble him so?
The night passed quietly. He had drawn up plans for what to do with the garden Castiel had taken to when they first arrived. As soon as the ground allowed, it would be seeded and adorned with a combination of night and day blooming flowers. As much as the angel seemed to enjoy it as it was, 'something about the natural beauty of God' Byron had assured him that an ordered chaos would be just as pleasing. What he hadn't said was that the exact layout was an homage to his own childhood and the flowers his mother had planted and tended.
Just as he was about to lay the plans aside for the evening, the sense of forebode that had been prickling at the back of Byron's mind rose to an absolute panic for about a split second, before something happened. For a split second, agony, to a Noble, he was aware of his body changing, changing in a way that was impossible. For the briefest of moments, Byron was aware that his body was capable of enduring sunlight.
And then The Baron was quite gone. In his place sat a man of comparable height and physique, sitting at the same desk, in the same clothes. The only notable difference was his hair , which had straightened and gone wildly long. The Goblin King Jareth blinked, shook his head wildly and stood in a rush.
"What the devil?!" He'd only just been lounging bored in his castle, dozing maybe, there hadn't been much to do lately. "What kind of trickery is this?" Jareth glanced at the desk, there were scores of hand written notes, a half written letter to someone named Kimberly, and a glass of a clear, strangely thick liquid. Experimentally, a gloved hand picked it up and took a sip...and promptly spat it back out. Clear blood?
If he didn't know any better, he was in the human world...but how, without his knowing....? Very, very slowly, Jareth made his way to the nearest window and cracked it open. The easiest way to figure out where he was, was to take his other form and survey things. A quick glance in the window revealed that he way wearing a shirt of deep blue brocade.
Okay, so at least whoever had brought him here had great taste in clothes. Once the window was open, Jareth closed his eyes and took the form of a barn owl, flapped twice, and sailed out into the night. With a great sense of releif, one of the first things he saw was....
A castle. Of course, it was starting to make sense. A rival king and sorcerer had done this to him, and wanted to see him struggle.
'We'll see about that, won't we?'
Taking an updraft, Jareth glided gracefully through the night, taking some time to think about how to go about confronting his nemesis. Finding that it was late and the streets were mostly empty, he dove into an alley, transformed back, and slipped off down the street.
'Whoever they are, if they think they can get away with disgracing the Goblin King, they are sorely mistaken."