Disclaimer: I Labyrinth do own not.
Author's Note: So I seem to have acquired a Labyrinth Muse playlist on my ipod, I am mildly alarmed by this. That being said, I hereby dedicate this story to lemonbalm, who has been so kind as to take over from the works of Quality Control – and is thereby the only reason y'all are getting more Labyrinth fics from me (well, not quite only reason, and I do thank the rest of you who offered – there really is no escape for me is there?). Props to her on the story title and summary, since my muse only saw fit to hand me the chapter names (and summaries for drabbles are a pain). Sigh.
It's just a crystal, nothing more…
It is a choice that has always been before her, waiting, watching, biding its time. Naïve to think that something as immutably everlasting as an immortal, having decided he was in love, should change his mind just because a few words had been spoken, as powerful as those words might have been. He seems so fickle sometimes, so inscrutable and aloof, but there is a vast difference in his treatment of momentary pleasures, and of that which he truly wants. The one is but a breeze to a mountainside, a fleeting amusement lightly felt and easily dismissed; for the other, he is insatiable as the desert for the rain, and just as relentless.
And so the crystal is always in hand, ever offering dreams to the one who is no ordinary girl, if only because he has decided otherwise. He is not concerned by the passage of time or the gradual alteration of those wishes; his realm is a landscape of constant transformation and nothing as it seems. The very nature of his being is the fluidity of the changing, unchanging of forever, and he can wait until the world falls down.
Indeed, it is her personal growth that is his opportunity, for every evolution of a dream is an amendment to the offer, rewriting the bargain anew. Her human nature is his ally, making each refusal but a negotiation, waiting only for the terms to be right, and so the choice is always before her, waiting to be made.