scene 38: strange how I find myself so often on a distant shore.

[charmedillusion]

[Sarah stirs in her sleep, consciousness taking its time in coming to her. She shifts slightly, her progress impeded by a strangely comfortable weight holding her quite fast, not letting her move very far. Drowsily, she half-opens her eyes - not to find herself in her own room, with Ginny nestled comfortably in her own bed a few feet away, but to

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[thexgoblinxking]

[Waking up a sleeping Jareth, particularly one sleeping off the effects of being cursed into suburban submission, is unfortunately easier said than done. Sarah's quiet attempts to wriggle out of his grip don't cause him to stir at all. His response to her first pleas to wake up is to make some kind of muffled noise and try to pull her closer.

When she raises her voice, however, his entire body flinches, eyes squeezing shut against the sunlight filtering into the room. The Goblin King does not believe in alarm clocks, (or indeed, in waking up on any schedule but his own), and being harangued awake by a young woman, no matter how desirable, is not going to change his mind.

It should be no surprise that his first glance at her is a slit-eyed glare through strands of pale hair. The Fae is half-sensible at best at the moment, and sleepy logic doesn't require him to question her presence in his bed--it's too busy trying to put together why she insists upon shouting at this hour of the morning.]

...What.

[charmedillusion]

[Utterly, completely exasperated - and still very much stuck - Sarah remembers yesterday well enough to understand why she is where she is, but that does not make her any less indignant. She tries another unsuccessful move, and settles for an accusatory glare of her own.]

I can't move, and I need to. I'm not supposed to be here.

[thexgoblinxking]

[All he does in reply is stare at her...for a few moments, at least. Things fall into place in his mind fairly quickly, and it's not long before Sarah is faced with the Jareth she knows, lips curling up into a lazy smile. He props himself up with his free arm; the other remains draped over her, sans the possessive clutching.]

No...no, you're not, are you? Did you sleep well?

[charmedillusion]

[But now this is too much for her, and her already worn down patience evaporates. She pulls away again, and since he is finally awake, her attempt is at last successful. Her first thought is to go home straightaway - but then she realizes, crestfallen, what a horrible idea that is. She would be seen by everyone on this floor running from this apartment to her own, and in her nightgown, no less. The embarrassment threatens to burn her cheeks a very visible shade of pink, before she orders herself to remain calm and find another solution.

Still stuck, though in a different way, she mentally reviews yesterday's events, finding one oddity which jumps out at her more than the others. Glancing over at the nightstand, she confirms what she recalls - there's the picture from the tea party, nicely tucked inside the frame she bought. At length she looks back over at him, not answering his question and posing one of her own.]

You kept it. Why did you do that?