(no subject)
Robin had taken to the rock--Neil's rock, where they had met that evening some time ago--with a certain wayward affection, and just now he was sprawled across it on his back, arms outstretched to either side, fingers trailing into the water. He closed his eyes against the warmth of the sun, humming low in his throat, his expression serene with remembered melody.
Morning star you're beautiful, yellow dime on high
Spins around my little room, miracle goodnight...
This was the most peace he could find in this place, where the trees no longer spoke to him and he could hear no heartbeat deeper than his own. Just now he didn't mind.
[Summary-in-progress: Robin is sprawled about on Neil's rock being lazy, when a newly modern-dressed and barefoot Jareth happens along. A little uncomfortable with each other, they acknowledge the shared pain of no longer being able to change shape, and a discussion about choosing shapes follows. Faramir notices something different about Robin this time when they meet, although Robin denies it, and Faramir leaves feeling just a little disturbed.]
Morning star you're beautiful, yellow dime on high
Spins around my little room, miracle goodnight...
This was the most peace he could find in this place, where the trees no longer spoke to him and he could hear no heartbeat deeper than his own. Just now he didn't mind.
[Summary-in-progress: Robin is sprawled about on Neil's rock being lazy, when a newly modern-dressed and barefoot Jareth happens along. A little uncomfortable with each other, they acknowledge the shared pain of no longer being able to change shape, and a discussion about choosing shapes follows. Faramir notices something different about Robin this time when they meet, although Robin denies it, and Faramir leaves feeling just a little disturbed.]