Oh there it is again, sitting on my chest

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊⏱︎ ₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

𝕋ℍ𝔼 firewood crackled to life as Olive touched it, flames leaping up instantly to fill the room with warmth. Satisfied with her work, she skipped over to the couch and plopped down beside Enoch, who barely acknowledged her presence.

Meanwhile, Millard, utterly unconcerned with his state of undress, approached the other couch where Emma and Jake sat. He carefully carried two mugs of hot chocolate, steam curling from the surface. "Yours has extra marshmallows, Jake," Millard said as he extended one of the mugs toward him.

Emma sighed, rubbing her temple. "Millard, put some pyjamas on."

"It's too hot in here," Millard replied casually, handing Jake his drink.

"Stop moaning," Horace called from the front of the room, adjusting the projector device over his eye.

Millard ignored him and made his way to the empty seat beside Emma. "Excuse me," he said, squeezing in next to her. Emma scooted a little to make space, though she didn't seem particularly thrilled about it. At the front of the room, Mr. Peregrine switched off the lights, casting the parlour into flickering shadows. He stepped over to Eliora and slid an arm around her waist, the other hand holding his ever-present smoke pipe. Eliora smiled, leaning into him, her head resting lightly against his shoulder as the first image flickered onto the screen.

The projection showed Horace standing stiffly in front of a mirror, adjusting an impeccably tailored suit.

"Splendid. I'll take it," his voice declared from the image, eliciting a few chuckles.

The scene shifted to Horace meeting Jake, the events of today replaying in flickering monochrome. Then, suddenly, the atmosphere in the room changed. The next image sent a cold shiver through Eliora and Mr. Peregrine.

Projected on the screen was a dark, shadowy tunnel. Wights loomed in the dim light, dragging Miss Avocet along with them. The image flickered eerily, the sight of an Ymbryne in chains sending a hush over the children.

Fiona, wide-eyed, turned to Mr. Peregrine. "An Ymbryne. Who is she? Mr. Peregrine, do you know her?"

Mr. Peregrine said nothing. He merely stared at the screen, his expression unreadable.

Hugh, trying to lighten the tension, piped up. "Don't be silly. Horace must have just had a bad dream. That's all."

The projection shifted again. This time, Eliora herself was in the image, her mouth open in a silent, haunting scream—the raw force of her banshee wail captured mid-moment.

The next flickering image revealed something far worse. A cage, crammed with birds—Ymbrynes—each one with wires attached to strange, nightmarish masks. Wights surrounded them, their expressions devoid of anything but chilling amusement. And then, with a metallic clang, the doors shut, trapping them inside. A thick, heavy silence filled the room, the weight of what they had just seen pressing against them like an unseen force. But then, the projection shifted again—this time to something much different.

Emma and Jake.

Emma was gazing forward, her expression soft, eyes filled with something unreadable yet unmistakable. Jake, captivated, looked at her in return. The moment had been captured with perfect clarity, the two of them leaning in, inching closer.

The atmosphere in the room shifted once more—this time to something quieter, more charged.

Emma, suddenly self-conscious, shifted uncomfortably in her seat, while Jake, seemingly unaware of the attention, leaned forward, entranced by the moment playing before them. Just as the tension reached its peak, Mr. Peregrine swiftly strode to the light and flicked the lights back on. The sudden brightness made several children groan.

"Aww!" Olive whined.

"That's quite enough of that. Thank you, Horace," Mr. Peregrine said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Horace removed the projector device with a sigh, clearly disappointed.

Jake exhaled, setting his mug down on the side table. "I probably should get going."

The evening draped itself over the island like a heavy velvet curtain, the last light of day clinging stubbornly to the horizon. The manor stood solemn against the sky, its silhouette softened by the mist curling off the sea.

"You could stay the night, if you wanted to. Rather than walk home alone in the dark," Mr. Peregrine offered, his voice warm with quiet amusement as he regarded Jake with a knowing smile.

Emma tilted her head, her youthful curiosity flickering in her gaze. "But the island is very safe, isn't it?"

Before Mr. Peregrine could answer, Eliora, ever perceptive, spoke first. A soft, teasing smile curved her lips. "Of course! He only meant the path is dreadfully bumpy. Jake could trip. Perhaps you could show him the shortcuts, should he ever need to avoid the bumps." Her tone was light, but her eyes twinkled with an unspoken understanding as she looked at Emma.

The girl caught the message, nodding with a slight flush of realization before Olive turned to Jake, her voice bright with persuasion. "Won't you at least stay to see the reset? It's really quite spectacular."

Jake hesitated only a moment before the chorus of eager voices rose around him—laughter, pleading, and delighted chatter. Even Enoch, despite his exaggerated groan, seemed to anticipate what was to come. Mr. Peregrine and Eliora shared a look, their smiles mirroring the quiet fondness between them as Jake gave in.

With effortless familiarity, Mr. Peregrine slid an arm around Eliora's waist, drawing her close as they stepped outside, the children trailing excitedly behind. The rain greeted them in a cool, rhythmic patter, washing the night in a shimmer of silver. Mr. Peregrine carried the clock to the small outdoor table where the gramophone sat waiting, its presence a silent sentinel to what was about to unfold.

As he turned the crank, music rose into the damp air, mingling with the steady drumming of the rain. A flicker of lightning illuminated the dark clouds, their bellies tinged crimson, warning of what was to come. Without needing a word, the children fitted their gas masks into place, and Eliora followed suit, her fingers brushing against Mr. Peregrine's for the briefest moment—a fleeting touch, but one that lingered between them like a secret held in the quiet of the night.

Mr. Peregrine donned his own mask, his sharp eyes turning skyward just as the aircrafts emerged from the distance, spectral shadows in the storm. The distant hum grew into a roar, a bomb released from one of the planes, its descent a terrifying inevitability. It sliced through the air, hurtling toward the house below.

Then—

A press of a button. A single moment stolen from time. The world stilled.

The raindrops hung suspended like beads of glass, the bomb frozen mere inches from its target. A heartbeat stretched into eternity as Mr. Peregrine, steady as ever, wound back his watch. The scene unwound with it. The aircraft retreated, the explosion unravelled, and time itself obeyed his command until the hands of the clock settled on a familiar number—2 September, 9:07 at night.

Slowly, cautiously, the children removed their masks, their faces lighting up with quiet awe. Mr. Peregrine turned to them with a smile, the kind that spoke of unwavering reassurance. The magic of their peculiar lives held them all in its steady grasp.

Eliora, standing beside him, did not speak. She simply lifted herself onto her toes, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. A gesture so simple, yet steeped in something deeper—an unspoken devotion, a quiet promise.

Mr. Peregrine stilled, his expression softening as he turned his gaze to her, their world momentarily untouched by time itself. And for that single moment, in the hush of rewound hours and the laughter of children returning home, they stood together, bound by love as timeless as the loops they lived within.

𓅪

Later, after Emma had taken Jake to the shortcut that would lead him beyond the time loop, Mr. Peregrine and Eliora remained inside the house, the fire casting golden light along the wooden floors. The air between them was thick with the quiet comfort of familiarity, the understanding that words were not always needed.

Mr. Peregrine stood by the window, watching the quiet night, his hands folded neatly behind his back. Eliora, ever observant, approached him silently, slipping her arms around his waist from behind. He exhaled a soft chuckle, tilting his head slightly as if savouring her presence.

"You worry too much," she murmured, pressing her cheek against his back.

His hand found hers, fingers lacing together as he brought it to his lips for a lingering kiss. "And you, my dear, never worry enough."

She smiled, moving to stand beside him. "Because I know that no matter what happens, you will always put things right. And I will always be here to remind you that you are not alone."

He turned to face her fully then, tracing a thumb over her cheek with such tenderness that her breath caught. "Eliora," he whispered, her name a reverence on his lips. "You are the one constant I would never reset."

The firelight flickered in her eyes as she leaned up, capturing his lips in a kiss, slow and unhurried, as if time itself had no hold on them. Outside, the storm raged, but within these walls, in this moment, there was only warmth, only them.

However, their moment was disturbed by a sharp knock at the door. Eliora pulled back just as Emma stepped inside, her expression urgent. In her arms, she cradled the frail form of Miss Avocet, the elder Ymbryne wounded and weak. Without hesitation, Mr. Peregrine and Eliora moved to help, guiding her carefully to a soft bed. Eliora brought medicine, her hands gentle as she pressed a cool cloth to Miss Avocet's fevered brow. Mr. Peregrine adjusted the blankets around her, murmuring reassurances even as his brows furrowed in concern.

Only once she was resting peacefully did the weight of exhaustion settle over them both. The hour had grown late, the manor wrapped in the quiet hush of slumber.

Eliora, her long white hair unbound, slid into bed beside Mr. Peregrine, the flickering candlelight casting silver streaks through her locks. He turned to her, his gaze soft as he reached out, brushing a loose strand behind her ear.

"You should rest," he murmured, his voice hushed, laced with quiet affection.

She smiled, pressing herself against his warmth, her head resting just above his heartbeat. "Only if you stay with me."

His arms encircled her, pulling her close as he pressed a lingering kiss to the top of her head. "Always."

The night stretched on, peaceful despite the weight of the world outside their walls. And in the quiet sanctuary of their embrace, they found solace—not in time's endless loops, but in each other.

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By: SilverMist707