Mornings of Gold (a Jareth and Sarah fanfiction)

Chapter Three

Jareth awoke with a sense of purpose he had not felt for centuries. Swinging out of his bed, he glanced out of the roughly-hewn window and saw that the sky was gripped in the endless navy of near-morning. An early start, he thought, grinning.

    Once he had bathed and eaten a little, he returned to his bed chamber. He flung open his wardrobe and sifted through the garments within. If he had learned anything from the humans this past half millennium, it was that his clothing was totally alien to them. Since he wanted to blend in, he needed to look the part as well as live it.

    After much deliberating he settled on a simple cotton undershirt, white, plain and without frills, and dark leggings made out of a smooth material that was neither leather nor denim, but some combination of the two. He slipped into his maroon leather jacket and typical black boots, then crossed to his full-body mirror and studied himself uncompromisingly, scrutinising every detail. He was satisfied up to his shoulders - he looked taller and the muscles in his arms and legs were more defined - but the illusion of humanity was broken when it came to his hair, wild and long around his shoulders like a spiky halo.

    Jareth hissed air through his teeth. Something had to be done about it, he knew, but he was quite... attached to his hair. He liked how intimidating it made him look.

    He steeled his resolve. You don't want to look intimidating, he reminded himself, you want to look human. You want to fit in.
    Jareth opened his bedside drawer and grasped the scissors in both hands.

                                ***

An hour and a half later and Jareth faced the mirror again, shoulders bare and pale in the dawn light. Around his feet was a mess of fluffy hair in a pile that reached to his ankles.

    Jareth set the scissors down and pulled his shirt and jacket back on, running his eyes over his new appearance. His hair was close to two inches long all over, lazy blonde half-curls mussed up and falling over his hazel eye while the other was striking against his creamy skin, blue iris icy and perplexing. He smiled, flicking his new fringe up a little as he did so. He looked good, he admitted. He looked handsome.

    He looked human.