"Capture" is such a derogatory term

[Devioux]

By the time Devioux realized what happened, it had been too late to scream, kick, or fry her attacker to a crisp... if she had wanted to, that is. Her captor's long, silvery-blonde hair brought back unbidden Memories, even if it was the wrong shade and colour, and his aloof attitude was all too similar to how she saw Him, even though the Others had always said differently. Love could do strange things to a person.

The feeling of travelling to a different dimension was nothing new, though the lack of the Corridors of Darkness was unexpected, yet not unpleasant--those things always made her feel nauseous afterward. Still, she found herself in a large room surrounded by strange, ugly Dwarfs and was about to comment on their appearance before her captor's languid appearance caught her eye. He was lounging in a large chair, not unlike the drawings she had once done of Him, and her captor's ornate outfit was elegantly styled in the manner she had always envisioned Him to dress in. Fate was cruel, she decided, shaking her head furiously to clear it of such thoughts.

"So..." Devioux began loudly over the chattering of the ugly Dwarfs, "you steal children, Kidnapper-san?" Her first instinct was to back away because for all intents and purposes, she was still a child in half-elf terms at 125 years of age. Sure, that made her older than any of her comrades by a good century, but there was no point in acting that old; that would be sooooo boring. "What is this place? What's it called? Why am I here? Who are you? Why do you command a legion of ugly Dwarfs? What's--" She was silenced by a single raised finger and a cool look from piercing two-toned eyes.

The other was silent for a moment before sighing softly. Placing a long-fingered hand at the bridge of his nose, he closed his eyes and explained. "First of all, my name is Jareth, King of the Goblins, and to explain the workings of my kingdom to one such as you would require too much needless information, child." At her indignant huff, he elaborated, "You know as well as I that to say that your appearance is not deceiving would be a blatant lie; the same can be said of my realm, but that is a different matter entirely. I just happen to be half a dozen centuries your senior." He said this with a small quirk of his lips, and for once in her life as a Nobody, Devioux was stunned into silence. If only Sempai could see her now. "Why don't you just sit back and relax, perhaps get a bite to eat, since attempting to escape is impossible as you are now?" Jareth gestured to the table that had not been there before, of that she was certain. The food looked delicious, however she did not need it to survive... then again, she had always heard stories of a former Organization member and his obsession with sea-salt ice cream bars. It couldn't hurt, right?

The spread was enormous, consisting of fruits, breads, and cheeses she could not identify. Some were vaguely familiar, but what caught her eye the most were the vast array of peaches. She found it odd, but elected to eat one anyway, since they were her favorites when she had been alive. After a single bite, Devioux arched a silent, quizzical eyebrow in the direction of the Goblin King, nearly choking on the fruit. The peach's sweetness was laced with undertones of strong magic, the presence of raw power an unwelcome reminder of how she had manipulated mana to perform spells on her now destroyed home world. Under normal circumstances, she would have fired off a myriad of questions, but the soothing, welcoming calm of the spell drove such things from her buzzing mind. Sleep, it whispered in an echoing voice. And so she eventually did, slumping to the floor in a tangled heap of turquoise hair and black Organization cloak.

[Devioux]

((Double-post FTW? *Phail* ))

At first, there was nothing but hazy shadows in a vast Nothingness. To her, this was nothing new. She was born from a place similar to this, a place that existed where it should not in an eternal, conflicting paradox. That's all what she really was, when she thought about it. Nothing more than a handful (or perhaps twenty handfuls) of lies and contradictions bundled into a small, powerless form.

After half of eternity passed, the ever-moving shadows rose from the surface on which she stood (since calling it "ground" was as inaccurate as calling herself "alive"), and Devioux felt herself automatically ease into a fighting stance, merely a casual adjustment of her feet, a slight repostioning of her upper body, and a languid twitch of her gloved fingers. To anyone who had not seen her in combat before, she looked no more ready to battle than she looked like she could lift an object three times her size, but she was ready for the quivering darkness to take shape and form, to become a Heartless. When the black-as-night figure stretched upward and slowly filled out into an all too familiar person, Devioux exhaled in a single sharp breath, fighting to keep perfectly still.

He was made from the shadows himself, yet he had not changed. Even his wings still fluttered behind him in all their glory, though they no longer had the bright colours of old. The emotionless expression on his face was alien, however. She envisioned the bright, carefree smile of his youthful form and the darker, seductively powerful smirk; such Memories were her only comfort, even as her body readied for a fight, readied to battle against a pitiful creature dressed as the one she cared about most.

Energy crackled around her, miniature lightnings dancing across her cloak and hair, in between her fingers. She had no time to raise her quivering hands to defend herself even as the Heartless charged forward in a dark blur and his backhand struck her hard in the face. Her retaliation was swift as it was harsh, the sparks now dancing wildly around her form in a glittering orb of electricity. Under the Heartless's feet, a circle of energy appeared and grew, gaining small, intricate lines and runes before a large bolt of lightning thundered down from above, followed by another and another and another until... finally... he, no... it, was gone, vanished to that forsaken place at the edge of all worlds.

"Indignation Judgement." The two words she had whispered faded to soft echoes, ringing in her pointed, silver-clad ears. If it had really been him... which it wasn't, she knew... he... it... would have known that attack, that spell. He had been the one to teach her it, after all.

Devioux fell to the nothing-ground on her knees, panting even as a lone drop of salt water fell. Her face hurt like the fires of Ifrit. She shut her eyes as the sparks faded, though strands of her turquoise hair stood up at odd angles. When she reopened her eyes, she found herself standing upright in an elegant version of a dark grey and silver dress she knew well. She found the wide, gauzy skirt shimmering with pearls and bright, clear gems that could only be diamonds (or extraordinarily hard quartz) and even her hair was pinned up into a style she had once seen the Princess of the humans wear once, all wildly curling wisps of hair dotted with more diamonds and glitter. It was a wonder, really.

The masked figures were dressed in an even more elaborate fashion, though their masks were really just that--facades of polite joy and amusement that hid cruelty and malice. They were no different than the nobles, the humans, the elves, of her home. Still, she could feel their silent laughter, their silent and piercing comments and willed it all to stop.

When a hand lightly touched her shoulder, she whirled around in surprise, feeling something well up inside of her, something powerful, something dangerous. The blonde man was pushing his limits, here in this world of his. He had magic that she no longer posessed, but her senses were still too attuned to the mana of any world, even one as bizzare as this. She started to hiss out a low reply before she found herself unable to speak, as if her mouth was tied shut by invisible, magical string. Her mental curses were loud, as well as the mental exclamation that he was as ugly as His sister's fiance. The Goblin King (or dork, as she thought at him) laughed mockingly, brushing aside her insults as easily as he took her hand, which was clentched into a fist. How dare he...

They twirled around in a wild circle, he enjoying the look of pure hatred on her face, she attempting to maim him with every completed circut. Somehow, probably due to the fact that he could somehow, disturbingly so, read her thoughts like some perverted creature (which he probably was) in both senses of the word, the Goblin King managed to dodge her every attack, whether a fist to the face or gut, a well-aimed kick from her riddiculously tall shoes, or a futile attempt to summon her lightning. She pouted and resigned herself to completing the idiotic dream (since that was all it could really be) as fast as possible, wondering when he would release her from his spell. Hadn't he tortured her enough?

The music grew softer and slowed and his mouth continued to wear that hideously mocking smile, that hideously familiar smile, that cruel grin that invoked unbidden Memories. For a moment, she saw His face instead of that cursed humanoid's and shook her head minutely to clear it. When the song changed to a sweet serenade of whispering strings and hushed bells, Devioux saw her opening and stomped on his foot. He staggered at let her go, stepping back with a look of utter disdain. The scenery shattered like a broken mirror, everything and everyone fading to Nothing until only the two of them were left.

She said something and more than just something as the Goblin King's face transformed from rage to calm, secretive aloofness once more. He waited for her to finish her tirade with endless patience and when he inquired if she was "quite done now", she nodded and he snapped his fingers. Devioux opened her eyes and found herself exactly where she had fallen, her muscles stiff from the uncomfortable position. Jareth sat upon his immense throne, staring into a glass orb. She watched him gaze at the object with interest, wondering what he was seeing. As if he sensed that she was finally awake (which was entirely possible, since he looked far to absorbed in his task to notice about anything else), the Goblin King looked up, and for the briefest moment, Devioux could see the wispy form of a human girl with curly brown hair as she stared into a music box with a familar figure at its center.

"That your girlfriend Jareth, King-of-Ugly-Dwarves?" Devioux asked sweetly with her trademark smile. When the other said nothing, she gasped overdramatically and told the invisble, intangible person next to her that her captor was a "creepy, pedophilic stalker who was too afraid to ask a child for a date". She danced around the room and dodgedd the Heartless that appeared from the shadows, reprimanding the silvery-blonde man for stooping to such a low level. Didn't he have enough power without the extra minions? He pointedly ignored her and returned to staring into the crystal orb, doing odd motions with another sphere with his other hand. She thought she heard him mutter something about a person named Sarah. He really was a perverted stalker, then, she thought, making sure to tease him about that while she still had the lifeforce to do so.

[Devioux]

After a few minutes (seconds? hours? Time was her worst enemy), the pressing swarm of Pureblood Heartless gathered around her happily skipping form to the point that any further movement was impossible. She stopped, glanced around the room once, and tapped a gloved finger against her lips. Finally, she decided something. Pouting, Devioux swept her arm in a wide arc, a wave of pale blue lightning rising from the ground in a single burst. It encircled her and when the burst of energy faded, nothing of the Heartless remained. To be honest, they were weak, little more than aggravating insects. She was newer Nobody when compared to her comrades, but by no means was she incapable of disposing of one and a half dozen Purebloods without breaking a sweat. It wasn't as if they were actually attacking her, no. They were merely in the way; she couldn't tolerate that, not in the least.

~~~~~~

Jareth, on the other hand, ignored everything concerning his newest charge. She was appallingly loud, childish (especially when one took into account her age), and she appeared to fluctuate between barely concealed anger--whether towards him or those odd black creatures that had invaded his domain (she had called him "Heartless")--and what could only be described as adoration for himself. The attention was flattering, yet wholly unwanted. He was far above her, to be frank, not to mention the fact that... well... such thoughts were for another time. His guests were in need of attention.

The transparent orb in his hand slowly gained an image, displaying the black-clothed group at the very entrance of his labyrinth. Their discussion was brief, for they started moving in different directions. They had split up. Obviously, they were hoping that by doing so, at least one of them was sure to reach his castle. At least one of them probably retained the notion that they would all meet up with each other at some point, as if his labyrinth was so easy to traverse. Call him conceited (which was what that female was currently proclaiming in a sing-song voice), but the only reason She had been able to escape was because... well... he was weak. She was the only exception, his only, only weakness. As much as he would most likely kiss each member of the cloaked group if they reached his castle and took that dratted female away to wherever it was she hailed from, it would probably, no, never happen. He would give them some time and then he would take action; he needed to get the gist of their individual strengths and weaknesses in order to properly exploit them, after all. Any further thoughts on his part were interrupted by a hand, yes indeed, a hand, lightly tapping his shoulder incessantly.

"Yes, my dear?" The term of endearment was more of habit and politeness rather than actual affection. Actually, taking his tone into consideration, it was quite sarcastic. Evidently, the female failed to notice that (or she chose to ignore it).

"Can you show me those holograms of my friends, Jareth, King of the Dorks?"

He sighed. She really was a piece of work. One minute she was trying to ask him about the inner workings of his domain, complete with an in-depth (and admittedly, intriguing) comparison to the function of "mana" in her home world and the exploitation of said energy that had lead to the world and life itself deteriorating, while only a few minutes later, she was asking him such pointless questions. His face was a single storm cloud of displeasure, before it transformed into his usual overly smug grin. Of course he would allow her to see her "friends". If doing so would give him peace of mind for even a few minutes, he would gladly do so.

Unfortunately, as he expected, that female refused to stop blabbering on and on about nonsensical things. The rare, pointed assessments of her comrades, however, were not missed to his ears. Evidently, she thought they were quite amusing as well, given her statement of, "They really don't seem t' know the meanin' of 'strength in numbers' do they? At least if they all stuck together, they'd all've gotten hopelessly lost together. What if somethin' happens to them while they're all by their lonesomes, hmmm? Did Elixean-sama ever think of that?" This came out more or less than a jumble of words, but he heard every one of them. Seeing his elegantly raised eyebrow, she politely explained that the blonde was in fact the leader of their little band of beings and actually her superior. Well, all of the members were her senior, really, but she was supposed to have respect for the light-haired girl with emerald-coloured eyes.

He couldn't stop himself from inquiring if she had respect for anyone... or anything. She merely laughed and smiled, letting him know nothing. Jareth shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. He, the all-powerful lord of the labyrinth, was getting a headache, however, the pain wasn't quite so much that he couldn't sense the female trying to lift the crystal orb he had been scrying in before out of his hand.

"Your powers are still centered more around magic than an actual element, dear one," he said lightly, tightening his grasp to the point that the sphere shattered into a fine dust. "Not only are you doing this in such close proximity to me, but even what your companions would consider 'magic' is limited in my realm; to put it into terms you would understand," his tone was overly haughty here, "the sheer concentration of energy in my labyrinth is enough to render most spells--what did you call them earlier? Fira, Curaga, and the like?--almost null and void."

"I'll have you know that I can understand that concept quite well, Your Pedophilic Highness. I penned an entire essay concerning the demonic realm of my world, where one's very life force is slowly drained with each and every movement, every breath, all due to the delicate ratio of Daemonic energies to their Spiritual counterparts." Her tone was actually serious and a good deal lower in both pitch and volume. Perhaps this was the true face of the female behind the mask. Then again, the fact that both sides of her mouth were twitching with concealed laughter made him think otherwise.

((1,068 words in this post, not counting this OOC note. XD))