Some feelings, they can travel too

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𝕋ℍ𝔼 bell rang, its cheerful chime echoing through the house, signalling to the children that supper was ready. In a flurry of movement, they hurried into the dining room, their excited chatter filling the space as they took their seats. The long wooden table was already set, plates gleaming under the soft glow of the chandelier. Mr. Peregrine stood at the head of the table, his usual air of authority softened by the warmth in his eyes. Enoch sat at the other end, arms crossed as he watched the children settle in, and beside Mr. Peregrine stood Eliora, her presence a calming contrast to the lively energy of the room.

The din of conversation carried on as they waited for the last two arrivals. Soon enough, the door creaked open, and Emma and Jake stepped inside. Mr. Peregrine smiled at the sight of them, his eyes twinkling with amusement as Emma made her way to her seat. Bronwyn, ever the thoughtful one, handed Emma one of her leather straps to help keep her from floating away. Emma took it with a small smile of thanks, fastening herself in before smoothing down her skirt.

Jake, meanwhile, moved to take the seat next to Emma, but just as he was about to sit, a voice rang out in protest.

"Hey! What are you doing?"

Mr. Peregrine cleared his throat, folding his hands behind his back as he addressed the invisible culprit. "Millard. Go and put some clothes on. Polite persons do not take their supper in the nude."

A round of giggles rippled through the children as Millard sighed in defeat. "Alright, alright," he grumbled before making his way out of the dining room to remedy the situation while Mr. Peregrine pulled the chair open for Eliora to sit in before he kissed her cheek and sat in his own chair.

Jake hesitated for a moment before finally settling in next to Emma, though he caught Olive's eager expression as she leaned toward him.

"You can sit here, Jake," she suggested brightly, pointing to the chair beside her.

Jake glanced at her but gave no answer as he made himself comfortable. Horace, never one to miss an opportunity for mischief, smirked and gestured toward Enoch. "Look at Enoch," he teased, nudging Olive. "He's jealous."

Enoch scoffed, rolling his eyes dramatically. "Why would I be jealous?" he shot back, crossing his arms. "Olive can go marry Jake, for all I care."

Fiona, ever the peacemaker, frowned at him. "Don't be mean, Enoch. She doesn't want to. She's just excited to have a visitor."

Mr. Peregrine, watching the exchange with amusement, finally stepped in with his usual composed authority. "Nobody is marrying anybody," he declared, his voice firm yet kind. "Now, eat up before your food gets cold."

As the children obediently picked up their utensils, Eliora turned to Mr. Peregrine, a sly smile on her lips. "That didn't stop you and me," she mused, lifting her hand to display the ring that gleamed on her finger.

Mr. Peregrine chuckled, his expression softening as he gazed at her. "I meant for our children, love."

Eliora raised an eyebrow at him in mock challenge, but before she could respond, she felt his hand slip onto her leg beneath the table, giving it a playful squeeze. Her heart warmed at the small gesture, the silent conversation passing between them in that single touch. She shook her head fondly as he turned back to his meal, his smirk barely concealed.

However, the peaceful meal was abruptly interrupted by the sudden sound of buzzing—then a whole swarm of bees darted into the room.

"Hugh!" Olive exclaimed, ducking as a few bees flew past her ear.

"Where's your net?" Emma demanded, swatting at the air.

The children erupted into chaos, waving their hands, and calling out to Hugh as they tried to avoid the swarm.

"Hugh! You have to stop doing this, Hugh," Fiona cried as she scooted her chair back.

Eliora, rather than reacting with alarm, simply smiled, and chuckled at the scene. There was something endearing about the way Hugh's bees always found a way into supper.

Hugh, looking only mildly sheepish, quickly pulled his bee mask over his face and inhaled sharply, drawing the swarm back toward him. One particularly determined bee, however, landed delicately on Eliora's finger. She glanced down at the tiny creature before bringing it closer to her lips, blowing gently toward Hugh. The bee, as if understanding the silent command, buzzed off her fingertip and zipped back to its rightful place within Hugh's control.

The warm glow of candlelight flickered over the long wooden dining table as the children chatted and ate. Jake, still trying to wrap his head around everything, sat among them, his plate untouched. Across from him, Fiona tilted her head, studying him with quiet curiosity before speaking.

"Must be very strange for you, Jake. Meeting your grandfather's friends. Visiting another century."

Before Jake could answer, Olive leaned forward, her eyes alight with excitement. "Are there spaceships in your time, Jake? Like in the Flash Gordon books?"

Before Jake could respond, Mr. Peregrine cleared his throat and gave Olive a pointed look. "Now, now, Olive. What did I say about asking questions?" He turned to the children, his voice firm but not unkind. "We don't discuss the future here. We enjoy living in the good old here and now."

With that, he reached for the platter in front of him, grabbing a piece of chicken and setting it on his plate. Without hesitation, he picked up a leg and took a hearty bite, the simple, familiar act easing the tension in the room.

As the conversation quieted for a moment, Eliora glanced down at Claire, who sat beside her, poking at the oversized turkey leg on her plate. Her little hands fidgeted, and she barely looked up.

"Claire, why aren't you eating?" Eliora asked gently.

Claire shifted in her seat, looking shy. The massive turkey leg in front of her seemed almost comically large. Before she could answer, Hugh, ever observant, piped up, "She's embarrassed in front of Jake."

Claire's cheeks turned a soft pink, and she looked down at her plate.

Jake, catching the moment, leaned forward slightly and smiled. "Don't be. Please."

Claire's expression brightened, and she glanced up at Eliora, who winked at her encouragingly. Taking a deep breath, Claire grabbed the turkey leg and lifted the thick blonde curls at the nape of her neck. Beneath them, a hidden mouth—lined with sharp, glistening teeth—opened wide. She brought the leg back, and the second mouth wasted no time, devouring the meat clean off the bone in just a few bites.

As she set the bone back on the plate, she smiled bashfully. Eliora leaned over with a fond chuckle, gently lifting Claire's hair and dabbing at the second mouth with a cloth. "There," she murmured, smoothing Claire's curls back into place.

Horace, still caught up in his own curiosity, turned to Jake. "So, Jake, what's your peculiarity?"

Jake hesitated before replying, "Oh, I'm not peculiar."

Eliora, now settled back in her seat, gave Jake a small, understanding glance, but Enoch leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms smugly. "And that, my friends, is why he will not be staying with us... no matter how hard we try to persuade him."

A beat of silence followed. Jake looked down at his plate, the weight of Enoch's words settling over him.

"Hush, Enoch," Eliora chided, her voice holding a motherly sternness.

Mr. Peregrine cleared his throat and addressed the children. "We've spoken about this. Jake is just visiting."

Hugh, ever hopeful, looked between Mr. Peregrine and Eliora before speaking. "He might want to stay."

Olive turned to Jake, her bright expression still hopeful. "Don't you want to stay, Jake?"

Jake hesitated, trying to find the right words. "Tonight? Or..." He trailed off uncertainly.

Claire, still smiling, chimed in with innocent enthusiasm, "Forever. You should stay forever."

Jake barely had time to process the thought before Enoch scoffed. "Why would he, if he doesn't have to?" he muttered, his tone carrying an edge of bitterness. "He can live out there, grow older... have a good time instead. He'll leave, just like his grandfather did."

The words barely finished leaving his mouth before a loud slam echoed through the room.

Emma had slammed her hands on the table, her expression dark with frustration. Without another word, she unstrapped herself from her chair, turned on her heel, and stormed off.

"Emma!" Mr. Peregrine called after her, but she didn't stop.

Just as she reached the doorway, Millard re-entered the dining room, now fully dressed. "Excuse me," he said, sidestepping Emma as he walked inside, completely unfazed by the tension in the air.

Eliora, who had been watching silently, turned her gaze toward Enoch. The look she gave him was sharp—not angry but filled with meaning. Enoch glanced away, suddenly interested in his plate.

With a sigh, Eliora stood, pushing her chair back smoothly. Without a word, she followed after Emma, disappearing through the doorway and leaving the room momentarily hushed in her absence.

"Emma."

Eliora's voice was gentle yet firm as she called after the girl, but Emma didn't stop. She marched straight to her room, pushed the door open, and shut it with a resolute click before locking it. Eliora sighed, resting a hand against the wooden door for a moment. Then, with a breath as soft as the wind, her form shimmered. Her body dissolved into a cool mist, slipping through the cracks of the door like a wisp of moonlight before reforming on the other side.

Emma sat on the edge of her bed, her back hunched, hands gripping the fabric of her skirt. Her blonde hair hung over her face like a curtain, shielding her from the world. She didn't look up, not even when Eliora silently approached and sat beside her. For a moment, Eliora said nothing. Instead, she reached out with a soft touch, tucking a loose strand of hair behind Emma's ear, revealing her tear-streaked face.

At the touch, Emma finally lifted her gaze. Her eyes, shimmering with unshed tears, met Eliora's, and in them was a deep sadness—a quiet storm of emotions too tangled to put into words.

Eliora smiled, not with amusement but with warmth, with understanding. She reached up and gently wiped away a tear that had slipped down Emma's cheek, her thumb brushing lightly over the girl's skin.

That was all it took.

Emma suddenly leaned forward, wrapping her arms around Eliora in a fierce hug, clinging to her like a child seeking refuge from a world that had just become too much. Eliora didn't hesitate. She wrapped her arms around Emma just as tightly, pressing a reassuring hand against the back of her head as she held her close. Emma buried her face in Eliora's shoulder, the steady warmth of her embrace undoing the last of her restraint. A quiet sob escaped her, and then another, her body trembling slightly as she let herself cry. Eliora said nothing, just held her, stroking her hair soothingly. She didn't shush her or tell her to stop—she let Emma cry, let her release the weight she'd been carrying, knowing that sometimes, words weren't needed.

After a while, Emma's sobs softened, her breathing slowing into something steadier. She sniffled, pulling back just enough to look up at Eliora.

Eliora cupped Emma's cheek gently, her thumb brushing away the lingering dampness of her tears. Her touch was warm, steady—like an anchor in a storm.

"Ignore Enoch," she murmured, her voice soft but firm. "Don't let his words bring you down."

Emma sniffled, then gave a small nod, her lips pressing together as she tried to gather herself.

Eliora's smile returned, bright and reassuring. "Chin up," she encouraged, tilting Emma's face ever so slightly with a playful touch under her chin. "Dry those tears and join us for movie time."

A flicker of hesitation crossed Emma's face, but Eliora wasn't about to let her retreat again. She took Emma's hands, squeezing them gently before pulling her to her feet.

Without another word, Eliora led her to the door, unlocking it with a quiet click. Together, they stepped out, the warmth of the home welcoming them back as the distant sounds of the children's chatter and laughter drifted through the hall.

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By: SilverMist707

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