The Birthday Ball [THNMY]
The day dawned bright and early--a surprise in itself, to the Labyrinth's residents. The goblin king spurred his subjects into unaccustomed activity, bewildering his land's other residents with banners and streamers being hung in every hall.
The kitchens were, briefly, aroar with activity. Thankfully, Jareth thought better of that, and sent his minions to fetch a feast from someone more capable of making it. The kitchen goblins were better employed among those scrubbing the castle from top to bottom.
Between bouts of ordering the goblins, reordering the goblins, reminding them (with practical demonstration) that the top is where things fall from, and massaging his temples, Jareth works on conjuring up a ballroom suitable for the evening's festivities and the guests to come.
The ballroom was a labor of care, a checked marble floor and ornate, baroque walls upheld by caryatids of lions and lilies, under a velvet sky spangled with sparkling stars. From great crystal basins of clear water, he called the beginnings of graceful ice sculptures, frozen trees which would spread their glassy branches and sprout icy leaves as they froze over the course of the night.
By evening all was in readiness, and guests began to arrive--those more refined revelers of the Labyrinth, yes, and more; heads of state from neighboring lands, answering their invitations with varying degrees of caution. Those who came seemed plucked from myth and imagination: Her Iridescent Majesty, queen of the City of Light (her counterpart's invitation was surely lost by mishap); Prince Miraz, of Telmar; Prince Prospero; the Childlike Empress; the demon Eblis, ruler of Ishtakar, clad in a handsome seeming; and Bête, who should need little introduction.
All that remained was the arrival of the guest of honor.
The kitchens were, briefly, aroar with activity. Thankfully, Jareth thought better of that, and sent his minions to fetch a feast from someone more capable of making it. The kitchen goblins were better employed among those scrubbing the castle from top to bottom.
Between bouts of ordering the goblins, reordering the goblins, reminding them (with practical demonstration) that the top is where things fall from, and massaging his temples, Jareth works on conjuring up a ballroom suitable for the evening's festivities and the guests to come.
The ballroom was a labor of care, a checked marble floor and ornate, baroque walls upheld by caryatids of lions and lilies, under a velvet sky spangled with sparkling stars. From great crystal basins of clear water, he called the beginnings of graceful ice sculptures, frozen trees which would spread their glassy branches and sprout icy leaves as they froze over the course of the night.
By evening all was in readiness, and guests began to arrive--those more refined revelers of the Labyrinth, yes, and more; heads of state from neighboring lands, answering their invitations with varying degrees of caution. Those who came seemed plucked from myth and imagination: Her Iridescent Majesty, queen of the City of Light (her counterpart's invitation was surely lost by mishap); Prince Miraz, of Telmar; Prince Prospero; the Childlike Empress; the demon Eblis, ruler of Ishtakar, clad in a handsome seeming; and Bête, who should need little introduction.
All that remained was the arrival of the guest of honor.