i'm exhausted from living up to your expectations.....
Jareth passed through the halls of his castle toward the garden from where he would leave this world for the world Above. Hogbrain gave him a look as he stepped through the arch into the open stone-walled area, a look he quelled with a raised eyebrow. That dwarf had far too much cheek for a servant; he reminded himself to throw the little toadstool in the Bog directly upon his return.
Then he remembered, he'd reminded himself to do that nearly every day for the past two and a half years. And hadn't done it yet.
"You'll be returnin' in the mornin', Yer Majesty?" Higgle said, shuffling his feet and distinctly *not* looking at his boss' travel attire.
"Yes, I will, Hogwart, so please try not to let any fires or rebellions take place in my absence," Jareth replied scathingly, tugging on his gloves with emphasis. "I'll most likely be in a foul mood when I return, so have breakfast waiting."
The dwarf muttered something that sounded like "Tell me something I don't know," but Jareth chose to ignore it in favor of preparing himself to make the transition to Above. Sweeping his cloak about him, he took the owl's form and soared into the sky, piercing the barrier between this world and the next--
--but instead of arriving on the streets of Boston as expected, he found himself tumbling in hot sand, squinting in daylight that ought not to be.
Getting to his feet and looking around in slight panic, he frowned. He must have gone off-course in his flight; no matter, he thought, swirling the cloak again and thinking of feathers.... but nothing happened. Frustrated, he tried again. Nothing.
This was rapidly becoming not funny.
Then he remembered, he'd reminded himself to do that nearly every day for the past two and a half years. And hadn't done it yet.
"You'll be returnin' in the mornin', Yer Majesty?" Higgle said, shuffling his feet and distinctly *not* looking at his boss' travel attire.
"Yes, I will, Hogwart, so please try not to let any fires or rebellions take place in my absence," Jareth replied scathingly, tugging on his gloves with emphasis. "I'll most likely be in a foul mood when I return, so have breakfast waiting."
The dwarf muttered something that sounded like "Tell me something I don't know," but Jareth chose to ignore it in favor of preparing himself to make the transition to Above. Sweeping his cloak about him, he took the owl's form and soared into the sky, piercing the barrier between this world and the next--
--but instead of arriving on the streets of Boston as expected, he found himself tumbling in hot sand, squinting in daylight that ought not to be.
Getting to his feet and looking around in slight panic, he frowned. He must have gone off-course in his flight; no matter, he thought, swirling the cloak again and thinking of feathers.... but nothing happened. Frustrated, he tried again. Nothing.
This was rapidly becoming not funny.