You reach out, hesitant at first to pluck the preternaturally beautiful flower from the bush, wrapping your hand around the stem carefully to avoid the thorns. You pause. There ARE no thorns. The entire rose bush is devoid of the prickly things.
"Strange," you murmur and pull the flower off. No sooner than the rose comes off in your grasp, a powerful voice issues from behind you, not shattering the quiet, but somehow floating with it.
"What do you think you're doing exactly?"
Ok, stay calm. The old crippled gardener's going to give you a good tongue lashing...nothing more. Slowly, you turn around. Facing you with a cheshire cat of a grin is the same impossibly tall figure.
His clothing has changed quite drastically, to a heavy, layered cloak of iridescent white; tiny dragon scales line the shoulders which are pulled up into points to aid in holding up the massive curling collar which sports snowy white feathers. His shirt beneath is black as pitch, silk and billowing, a slightly modified poet's shirt tucked into equally midnight tights.
He must have noticed the blank expression on your face, because his smile simply becomes wider. Perhaps dangerously so, you think as you force out an answer that you hope is more coherent than it sounds.
"I was..."
He cuts you off with a silky tone.
"Getting yourself a one way ticket to the oubliettes?"
A WHAT? Oubliette... oubliette... where have you heard that from?
"Damn tenth grade french... " You mutter, and blink as it comes to you. Oubliette, or 'oublietter', to forget. Oh that does NOT sound good.
Meanwhile, the Goblin King watches you amusedly head tilted just so to one side in a raptorial expression. His eyes sparkle a devious bronze as he taps long curved claws against an armcuff on his left arm.
"Commendable effort." He chuckles brightly, as if he knew about your mental struggle. Oh, what a comforting thought. Better screw up the old courage...
You look him in the face, and pull out the big guns. The scowl of all scowls, the mother of all...wow... he has strange eyes. Almond shaped and unblinking, they gleam a pale gold. Your train of thought is derailed, and you find your own jaw hanging a little lower than you had wished. Jareth on the other hand, smiles with unmoved mockingness.
He grins, and strides forward leaning over to pluck the rose from your hand in a fluid motion. Slender fingers twirl the flower idly, as he half whispers. The tall figure leans forward enough to cause you to pause uncomfortably.
"Will it happen again do you think?"
His voice is a croon, and for some reason you find yourself shaking your head vigorously in response.
"Good. I don't have to tell you how upset I get with second time offenders."
You come to your senses a little more, shaking the discomfort from your skull. At least he didn't stick you in the 'to forget thing', that didn't sound good at all. You turn to give him what for and tell him you don't LIKE people in your 'bubble of personal space' only to find he's gone completely. Not a wisp of hair, or a dragon scale to be found. Blinking a few times you decide maybe it's time to high-tail it outta this wacky garden, before you touch anything ELSE you shouldn't.
But which way to go? There are several snaking pathways that merge into one grey cobblestone walk to one side, further into the garden, while you could make your way back into the castle. There must be tons of rooms you haven't checked out in there yet anyway.
