Challenge 31: Memorabilia
Response to: Challenge 31: Photo album
Title: Memorabilia
Words: 1220
Rating: G
Author's notes: Finally, another bit for my ongoing "My Name is Sarah" story, all of which is up on labyfic but which can also be found on AO3. I originally intended to write something little and silly from the point of view of the goblins apparently spying on the ballroom scene as set out in the official photo album, but then this occurred to me and I decided to just go with it. And yes, I did google to see just how many times Jareth changed his clothes in the movie.
“What are you doing tomorrow, Sarah?”
I had grown to be vaguely suspicious of these words. Jareth always sounded a little too casual when he said them.
“I’m guessing you’re about to tell me…”
“Oh, well… I just thought we might like to scout out locations and so on … for the wedding photography…”
“Wait, what?”
“Well, I may have organised us a few meetings -- with the wedding planner and the couturiers and the chef and so on.”
Then he grinned a big grin that showed all his pointy teeth. He was positively gleeful.
I thought about quietly doing a google search on my phone for “Groomzilla” while he said something about floral arrangements tying in with the flowers on the cake, and what size thrones we should have made up for the reception, but I stopped him when he started talking about commemorative plates.
“Do the majority of your subjects even eat off plates?” I demanded. He looked pained. Then I remembered that one of my tutors, Maria, had a commemorative mug from the wedding of Princess Diana and Prince Charles that she used ironically, and told him that I wanted a wedding, not a circus.
He peppered my face with kisses at this pronouncement. He was clearly in a wonderful mood that even my Negative Nancy outburst couldn’t chip away at.
“We start with the wedding planner and the photographer. I told them we’d meet them at that coffee place you like, at 10.”
I rolled my eyes and wiggled my head in a “you win” sort of way.
I may have dreamt of armies of goblins wearing wedding veils attacking Tokyo that night.
Ok, no, I didn’t, but that would have been funny. And fitting.
Both the photographer and the wedding planner looked so chic, the next morning, sitting around in my favourite cafe I really didn’t know what to say to them at first. One was male and one was female but I didn’t know which was which. Neither had an actual camera on them. I didn’t even know if they were human. I didn’t know what they knew. I really should have made Jareth brief me on these people but it just hadn’t occurred to me before this moment. It still all felt a bit unreal.
The pair saw us and leapt up, and didn’t sit down again until we sat down.
“The Lady Sarah,” Jareth said to them, tragically, by way of an opening, “doesn’t want commemorative plates.”
The pair looked at each other with wide eyes for a moment.
“Well, as the Lady Sarah wishes,” the male one said eventually, “What about an official photo album, at least?”
Everyone looked at me.
“Um,” I said.
“The thing is, your majesty,” the female added, once it was clear she wouldn’t be interrupting me, “if official memorabilia is not released, the people may take matters in their own hands. You remember what happened last time.”
Jareth’s eyes were suddenly slits. He had gone completely still.
“What happened last time?” I asked loudly.
The pair looked at each other with wide eyes again. Then the woman threw herself at Jareth’s feet, clinging to his leg. “A thousand pardons, your highness! I throw myself upon your mercy!”
“Oh get up,” he said, shoving her back into her chair, while I looked around to see what everyone else in the café was making of this display. Oddly, nobody was paying the least attention. Not even the staff.
“I’d like a coffee,” I said abruptly, and attempted to make my way to the counter. Turned out we were in some sort of bubble that I couldn’t make my way out of. “Ahem?” I said.
I refused to sit back down until I had a caffeinated beverage to fortify me. I took my first sip, and, sufficiently strengthened, said, “What happened last time?”
Jareth sighed a longsuffering sort of sigh and handed me a slim volume out he had pulled of nowhere, muttering, “You would have seen it eventually, I suppose.”
It was a collection of images of my original trip through the labyrinth.
“How did they get these?” I demanded. “Were photographers following me?!”
“Oh, no, my lady," the woman said. "That would have been too vulgar. The labyrinth is not one of your human reality television shows. No, they used magic.”
“Clearly,” I said, looking at a shot of my teenage self, threatening Jareth with a broom at some point after he had appeared in my parent’s bedroom. “I certainly don’t remember this bit.”
“Well, no, sometimes the magic doesn’t work quite right and things that merely might have happened appear. Either way, this book only exists because the king -- ah, that is, there were no proper commemorative items released, acknowledging that an important event had occurred."
“I was busy,” Jareth said narkily. “Any it really didn’t occur to me that my subjects would want souvenirs of the time we lost to a teenage girl.”
“You mean the woman who is right here?” I snapped. “Anyway, why do people always underestimate teenage girls? Do you even have any understanding of what teenagers go through?”
Jareth’s eyes snapped, but before he could say anything, the male spoke up again. “Oh, weddings,” he said in a campy, jovial manner. “You don’t know how many clients I see at these meetings, arguing about the past when really they’re just nervous about the future. Why, even at the latest elven royal couple’s engagement party -- oh, but it wouldn’t do to tell tales. Let’s just say, Lady Sarah, you aren’t the first future queen to object to something she considered “OTT”. That’s what you humans call it, right? Now, I don’t think we’ve actually been properly introduced. I’m Ray, I’ll be your wedding planner, and this is Sherie, and she’s the only photographer I can possibly do any decent work with. And here’s my scrapbook of ideas for your special day!”
He didn’t just have a scrapbook. He had Pinterest boards that he pulled up on a tablet. And he had fabric samples and colour swatches and foliage. Actual foliage.
And it was all excellent.
And the photographer’s sample work? It was actually great, despite her personal tendency towards melodrama. Nothing was cheesy or clichéd or made me want to vomit.
Our lunch, which went well past sunset by the way, was some sort of never-ending tasting platter featuring sample dishes from some of the best fairy and human chefs around. And while we ate, you wouldn’t have believed the gorgeous clothes paraded past me on much-too-attractive models, like I was in some sort of 50s Marilyn Monroe movie. Jareth and I had managed not to argue throughout all of this right up until the point when he actually specifically outlined how many costume changes he expected. It appeared to be a seven that was more like eight. I told him I expected to wear one outfit the whole time -- two, max -- and that he could change his clothes as many times as he wanted but under no circumstances would I be participating in this clotheshorsing.
He conceded the point gracefully.
In fact, the whole day turned out to be extremely pleasant. A bit too pleasant, actually.
I really should have known to be more suspicious by now.
Title: Memorabilia
Words: 1220
Rating: G
Author's notes: Finally, another bit for my ongoing "My Name is Sarah" story, all of which is up on labyfic but which can also be found on AO3. I originally intended to write something little and silly from the point of view of the goblins apparently spying on the ballroom scene as set out in the official photo album, but then this occurred to me and I decided to just go with it. And yes, I did google to see just how many times Jareth changed his clothes in the movie.
“What are you doing tomorrow, Sarah?”
I had grown to be vaguely suspicious of these words. Jareth always sounded a little too casual when he said them.
“I’m guessing you’re about to tell me…”
“Oh, well… I just thought we might like to scout out locations and so on … for the wedding photography…”
“Wait, what?”
“Well, I may have organised us a few meetings -- with the wedding planner and the couturiers and the chef and so on.”
Then he grinned a big grin that showed all his pointy teeth. He was positively gleeful.
I thought about quietly doing a google search on my phone for “Groomzilla” while he said something about floral arrangements tying in with the flowers on the cake, and what size thrones we should have made up for the reception, but I stopped him when he started talking about commemorative plates.
“Do the majority of your subjects even eat off plates?” I demanded. He looked pained. Then I remembered that one of my tutors, Maria, had a commemorative mug from the wedding of Princess Diana and Prince Charles that she used ironically, and told him that I wanted a wedding, not a circus.
He peppered my face with kisses at this pronouncement. He was clearly in a wonderful mood that even my Negative Nancy outburst couldn’t chip away at.
“We start with the wedding planner and the photographer. I told them we’d meet them at that coffee place you like, at 10.”
I rolled my eyes and wiggled my head in a “you win” sort of way.
I may have dreamt of armies of goblins wearing wedding veils attacking Tokyo that night.
Ok, no, I didn’t, but that would have been funny. And fitting.
Both the photographer and the wedding planner looked so chic, the next morning, sitting around in my favourite cafe I really didn’t know what to say to them at first. One was male and one was female but I didn’t know which was which. Neither had an actual camera on them. I didn’t even know if they were human. I didn’t know what they knew. I really should have made Jareth brief me on these people but it just hadn’t occurred to me before this moment. It still all felt a bit unreal.
The pair saw us and leapt up, and didn’t sit down again until we sat down.
“The Lady Sarah,” Jareth said to them, tragically, by way of an opening, “doesn’t want commemorative plates.”
The pair looked at each other with wide eyes for a moment.
“Well, as the Lady Sarah wishes,” the male one said eventually, “What about an official photo album, at least?”
Everyone looked at me.
“Um,” I said.
“The thing is, your majesty,” the female added, once it was clear she wouldn’t be interrupting me, “if official memorabilia is not released, the people may take matters in their own hands. You remember what happened last time.”
Jareth’s eyes were suddenly slits. He had gone completely still.
“What happened last time?” I asked loudly.
The pair looked at each other with wide eyes again. Then the woman threw herself at Jareth’s feet, clinging to his leg. “A thousand pardons, your highness! I throw myself upon your mercy!”
“Oh get up,” he said, shoving her back into her chair, while I looked around to see what everyone else in the café was making of this display. Oddly, nobody was paying the least attention. Not even the staff.
“I’d like a coffee,” I said abruptly, and attempted to make my way to the counter. Turned out we were in some sort of bubble that I couldn’t make my way out of. “Ahem?” I said.
I refused to sit back down until I had a caffeinated beverage to fortify me. I took my first sip, and, sufficiently strengthened, said, “What happened last time?”
Jareth sighed a longsuffering sort of sigh and handed me a slim volume out he had pulled of nowhere, muttering, “You would have seen it eventually, I suppose.”
It was a collection of images of my original trip through the labyrinth.
“How did they get these?” I demanded. “Were photographers following me?!”
“Oh, no, my lady," the woman said. "That would have been too vulgar. The labyrinth is not one of your human reality television shows. No, they used magic.”
“Clearly,” I said, looking at a shot of my teenage self, threatening Jareth with a broom at some point after he had appeared in my parent’s bedroom. “I certainly don’t remember this bit.”
“Well, no, sometimes the magic doesn’t work quite right and things that merely might have happened appear. Either way, this book only exists because the king -- ah, that is, there were no proper commemorative items released, acknowledging that an important event had occurred."
“I was busy,” Jareth said narkily. “Any it really didn’t occur to me that my subjects would want souvenirs of the time we lost to a teenage girl.”
“You mean the woman who is right here?” I snapped. “Anyway, why do people always underestimate teenage girls? Do you even have any understanding of what teenagers go through?”
Jareth’s eyes snapped, but before he could say anything, the male spoke up again. “Oh, weddings,” he said in a campy, jovial manner. “You don’t know how many clients I see at these meetings, arguing about the past when really they’re just nervous about the future. Why, even at the latest elven royal couple’s engagement party -- oh, but it wouldn’t do to tell tales. Let’s just say, Lady Sarah, you aren’t the first future queen to object to something she considered “OTT”. That’s what you humans call it, right? Now, I don’t think we’ve actually been properly introduced. I’m Ray, I’ll be your wedding planner, and this is Sherie, and she’s the only photographer I can possibly do any decent work with. And here’s my scrapbook of ideas for your special day!”
He didn’t just have a scrapbook. He had Pinterest boards that he pulled up on a tablet. And he had fabric samples and colour swatches and foliage. Actual foliage.
And it was all excellent.
And the photographer’s sample work? It was actually great, despite her personal tendency towards melodrama. Nothing was cheesy or clichéd or made me want to vomit.
Our lunch, which went well past sunset by the way, was some sort of never-ending tasting platter featuring sample dishes from some of the best fairy and human chefs around. And while we ate, you wouldn’t have believed the gorgeous clothes paraded past me on much-too-attractive models, like I was in some sort of 50s Marilyn Monroe movie. Jareth and I had managed not to argue throughout all of this right up until the point when he actually specifically outlined how many costume changes he expected. It appeared to be a seven that was more like eight. I told him I expected to wear one outfit the whole time -- two, max -- and that he could change his clothes as many times as he wanted but under no circumstances would I be participating in this clotheshorsing.
He conceded the point gracefully.
In fact, the whole day turned out to be extremely pleasant. A bit too pleasant, actually.
I really should have known to be more suspicious by now.