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lyricalitySee, I promised I was writing a little something. :3 This is for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
betweenthebliss, and the progression here goes part one, part two, part three, part four, and part five. This would be part six, oh my. O.o
The heart of a bird beat so much more rapidly than that of any two-legged creature. When Robin eventually returned to the flickering of the fires and the madness of the midsummer celebration, he needed to perch for a moment on a branch outside the garden edge. His heartbeat calmed and the clarity returned to his thoughts. In so small a shape, his mind tended to fragment—he could hold only so much intelligence at any given moment, and instinct dominated reason.
Beneath him, the lean limbs of the tree curved ever so subtly to better support his weight. The Labyrinth, at least, evidenced no hesitations in its acceptance of him.
He saw Jareth immediately. The King of Goblins drew attention like nothing else, especially standing as he did atop the dais that bore the couch of the Faerie Queen. The crystal beads sewn in patterns over his shirt caught the firelight and reflected it in brief glints of rainbow, and something at once brighter and hotter than firelight gleamed in his eyes. Robin thought that he recognized the expression, but not the emotion behind it. As he watched, Titania lifted one pale and perfect hand, resting her fingers in the curve of Jareth's elbow, and Robin supposed that he could guess the cause of that peculiar pensiveness, after all.
While he would never term himself a jealous creature in any particular way, Robin felt an uneasy prickling beneath the feathered surface of his skin. He knew too well how flattering Titania's concentrated attention could be—and it was all the more attractive for its rarity.
Instinct still reigned, because without a moment's thought, he had taken wing again, and a swift bank and swerve brought him level with Jareth's mismatched eyes. Jareth paused, but then he lifted a hand, and Robin lighted with delicate precision on the tips of his fingers. "Bold little bird," Jareth said, and he flicked his fingers, forcing Robin to sway from side to side. Robin fluttered his wings and uttered a chirp of indignation.
"One of your creatures, I imagine," remarked Titania with her guileless smile. "It looks as though it requires special attention."
Jareth glanced at her and then back at Robin. "Well, perhaps."
"You must attend to the duties of your kingdom, of course." To Robin's vague satisfaction, she removed her hand from Jareth's elbow and took hold of her wine glass, instead. She drained it, and two goblins stumbled over each other for the privilege of filling it again. "I wouldn't think of preventing you."
"Of course," Jareth echoed, and while his smirk suggested a certain doubtfulness about her intentions, he nevertheless made no protest.
Vaguely pleased at being carried, Robin curled his toes and kept his perch with tiny claws as Jareth descended the dais. They skirted dancing fae and drunken goblins and took a roundabout route back toward the castle walls. Away from the fire, the moon shone in silver streamers through the branches and over the stones, and Jareth paused, almost imperceptibly, at the juncture of two paths before choosing the one that led deeper into the forest. The trees spoke here, and by wordless agreement, Jareth moved toward those with the oldest voices. One called especially sweetly, and Robin fluttered off of Jareth's fingers to land with a bounce.
Safe among the branches, Robin unraveled into his customary shape again, and he settled on a limb strong enough to hold him, adjusting his weight with easy grace to keep his balance. He held out a hand.
Jareth did not take it, but he did come closer, and he spun around to sit beside Robin on the branch. Everything shifted as the tree dipped and creaked; the world revolved and then gradually settled again. The heat of Jareth's body cut through the warmth of the night and raised shivers under Robin's skin.
Inclining his head in Robin's direction, he spoke with dry amusement. “Appropriate shape.”
With a narrow smile, Robin swayed just enough to touch them hip to hip. "Do I risk arousing your predatory instincts with it?" he asked.
Jareth favored him with a sideways glance, and the Goblin King ran a smoothly proprietary hand downward along Robin's thigh before speaking. "My predatory instincts are hardly limited to a single shape of yours."
Robin closed his eyes in appreciation and covered Jareth's hand with his own to hold him in place. For a minute or more, Jareth indulged him, and Robin carefully considered initiating something closer, something inevitable, but he shied away from an unsubtle show of physical affection. Casual kissing had never played a part in their relationship, even during their time on the island.
Still touching, they shared several minutes of companionable silence. When Robin leaned to one side, he could breathe in the subtle smoke that clung to the familiar scent of Jareth's skin.
"Oberon paid me an unwelcome and unwarranted visit this morning."
Robin's smile thinned. He had hoped they could avoid this discussion. "I know," he said, baldly honest for once. "He has been spreading around an inordinate quantity of his wisdom, today."
"Is there truth in it?"
The tone was light, but Robin heard the edge beneath it, and he ran his fingers uncomfortably through his hair. "Some of it," he admitted. Crossing one leg over the other, he held out his arms, and the bands of silver came to rest at the backs of both wrists. The sharpness of the moonlight made their glittering especially cruel. "I was willing." Slowly, he raised his hands, and the bracelets slid backwards until they disappeared beneath the dark velvet of his sleeves. "Once upon a time." He was not mortal; regret was foreign. His bitterness surprised him, however. "That was..." Timelines eluded him. He could remember Jareth's predecessors, but not in any sort of order. "I don't know. The world was greener then." Goblins had ruled goblins. Men had lived small and fearful on the edges of the forests.
Jareth stared back at him, outwardly impassive. His dual nature often eluded categorization—neither fully mortal nor fully fae, he defied Robin's easy translation.
After an awkward moment, Robin lowered his eyes and curved his lips. “I suppose I was braver, then.”
Jareth's fingers gripped Robin's chin with surprising strength and lifted his head. Their eyes met, and for a deeply uncomfortable second, Robin suspected that the Goblin King meant to look through him—beyond him, into older and darker memories. Instead, Jareth leaned forward and kissed him, those narrow lips still tinged with wine, but Robin sidled to one side after only the briefest contact. “Fly with me.” Robin slid off the branch, landed on his toes. Turning to face Jareth, he lifted and spread both arms in raw, open invitation. “I've been waiting for that.” His edges blurred and literally feathered. “Please.”
To his credit, Jareth did not hesitate. His eyes burned with a strange, focused hunger as he stood, and he gave no verbal reply before shrugging into the pale, silent form of the owl.
Robin grinned with fierce, feral joy and twisted himself into the small frame and pounding chest of a little bird.
betweenthebliss, and the progression here goes part one, part two, part three, part four, and part five. This would be part six, oh my. O.oThe heart of a bird beat so much more rapidly than that of any two-legged creature. When Robin eventually returned to the flickering of the fires and the madness of the midsummer celebration, he needed to perch for a moment on a branch outside the garden edge. His heartbeat calmed and the clarity returned to his thoughts. In so small a shape, his mind tended to fragment—he could hold only so much intelligence at any given moment, and instinct dominated reason.
Beneath him, the lean limbs of the tree curved ever so subtly to better support his weight. The Labyrinth, at least, evidenced no hesitations in its acceptance of him.
He saw Jareth immediately. The King of Goblins drew attention like nothing else, especially standing as he did atop the dais that bore the couch of the Faerie Queen. The crystal beads sewn in patterns over his shirt caught the firelight and reflected it in brief glints of rainbow, and something at once brighter and hotter than firelight gleamed in his eyes. Robin thought that he recognized the expression, but not the emotion behind it. As he watched, Titania lifted one pale and perfect hand, resting her fingers in the curve of Jareth's elbow, and Robin supposed that he could guess the cause of that peculiar pensiveness, after all.
While he would never term himself a jealous creature in any particular way, Robin felt an uneasy prickling beneath the feathered surface of his skin. He knew too well how flattering Titania's concentrated attention could be—and it was all the more attractive for its rarity.
Instinct still reigned, because without a moment's thought, he had taken wing again, and a swift bank and swerve brought him level with Jareth's mismatched eyes. Jareth paused, but then he lifted a hand, and Robin lighted with delicate precision on the tips of his fingers. "Bold little bird," Jareth said, and he flicked his fingers, forcing Robin to sway from side to side. Robin fluttered his wings and uttered a chirp of indignation.
"One of your creatures, I imagine," remarked Titania with her guileless smile. "It looks as though it requires special attention."
Jareth glanced at her and then back at Robin. "Well, perhaps."
"You must attend to the duties of your kingdom, of course." To Robin's vague satisfaction, she removed her hand from Jareth's elbow and took hold of her wine glass, instead. She drained it, and two goblins stumbled over each other for the privilege of filling it again. "I wouldn't think of preventing you."
"Of course," Jareth echoed, and while his smirk suggested a certain doubtfulness about her intentions, he nevertheless made no protest.
Vaguely pleased at being carried, Robin curled his toes and kept his perch with tiny claws as Jareth descended the dais. They skirted dancing fae and drunken goblins and took a roundabout route back toward the castle walls. Away from the fire, the moon shone in silver streamers through the branches and over the stones, and Jareth paused, almost imperceptibly, at the juncture of two paths before choosing the one that led deeper into the forest. The trees spoke here, and by wordless agreement, Jareth moved toward those with the oldest voices. One called especially sweetly, and Robin fluttered off of Jareth's fingers to land with a bounce.
Safe among the branches, Robin unraveled into his customary shape again, and he settled on a limb strong enough to hold him, adjusting his weight with easy grace to keep his balance. He held out a hand.
Jareth did not take it, but he did come closer, and he spun around to sit beside Robin on the branch. Everything shifted as the tree dipped and creaked; the world revolved and then gradually settled again. The heat of Jareth's body cut through the warmth of the night and raised shivers under Robin's skin.
Inclining his head in Robin's direction, he spoke with dry amusement. “Appropriate shape.”
With a narrow smile, Robin swayed just enough to touch them hip to hip. "Do I risk arousing your predatory instincts with it?" he asked.
Jareth favored him with a sideways glance, and the Goblin King ran a smoothly proprietary hand downward along Robin's thigh before speaking. "My predatory instincts are hardly limited to a single shape of yours."
Robin closed his eyes in appreciation and covered Jareth's hand with his own to hold him in place. For a minute or more, Jareth indulged him, and Robin carefully considered initiating something closer, something inevitable, but he shied away from an unsubtle show of physical affection. Casual kissing had never played a part in their relationship, even during their time on the island.
Still touching, they shared several minutes of companionable silence. When Robin leaned to one side, he could breathe in the subtle smoke that clung to the familiar scent of Jareth's skin.
"Oberon paid me an unwelcome and unwarranted visit this morning."
Robin's smile thinned. He had hoped they could avoid this discussion. "I know," he said, baldly honest for once. "He has been spreading around an inordinate quantity of his wisdom, today."
"Is there truth in it?"
The tone was light, but Robin heard the edge beneath it, and he ran his fingers uncomfortably through his hair. "Some of it," he admitted. Crossing one leg over the other, he held out his arms, and the bands of silver came to rest at the backs of both wrists. The sharpness of the moonlight made their glittering especially cruel. "I was willing." Slowly, he raised his hands, and the bracelets slid backwards until they disappeared beneath the dark velvet of his sleeves. "Once upon a time." He was not mortal; regret was foreign. His bitterness surprised him, however. "That was..." Timelines eluded him. He could remember Jareth's predecessors, but not in any sort of order. "I don't know. The world was greener then." Goblins had ruled goblins. Men had lived small and fearful on the edges of the forests.
Jareth stared back at him, outwardly impassive. His dual nature often eluded categorization—neither fully mortal nor fully fae, he defied Robin's easy translation.
After an awkward moment, Robin lowered his eyes and curved his lips. “I suppose I was braver, then.”
Jareth's fingers gripped Robin's chin with surprising strength and lifted his head. Their eyes met, and for a deeply uncomfortable second, Robin suspected that the Goblin King meant to look through him—beyond him, into older and darker memories. Instead, Jareth leaned forward and kissed him, those narrow lips still tinged with wine, but Robin sidled to one side after only the briefest contact. “Fly with me.” Robin slid off the branch, landed on his toes. Turning to face Jareth, he lifted and spread both arms in raw, open invitation. “I've been waiting for that.” His edges blurred and literally feathered. “Please.”
To his credit, Jareth did not hesitate. His eyes burned with a strange, focused hunger as he stood, and he gave no verbal reply before shrugging into the pale, silent form of the owl.
Robin grinned with fierce, feral joy and twisted himself into the small frame and pounding chest of a little bird.
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Date: 2010-03-20 03:44 am (UTC)this means it's my turn next, lol. *rubs hands gleefully*
>^.^<
Date: 2010-10-09 02:06 am (UTC)^_^ \m/