Metanoia - Peter Pan OUAT

Chapter Three

Metanoia's eyes swung open the following morning, her ears perking up at the sound of birds flapping their wings and melodically communicating with one another. A soft smile subconsciously slithered its way up her lips and she blinked dazedly, still half asleep. Just as she was about to allow herself to drift off into another peaceful slumber, a loud male shout echoed its way to her treehouse, jolting her awake and stripping away her lethargy.

She hoisted herself up by propping her elbows against the mattress and she yawned deeply whilst rubbing her right eye drowsily. It took Metanoia a few seconds as her sluggish brain slowly recalled the events of the day prior, and she felt her stomach churn uneasily. How had she ended up on an island inhabited by a small army of boys led by a boy of magical power, along with hostile neighbors? What was her backstory?

She sighed softly and lowered her bare feet down to the wooden floor, and padded across the treehouse to the bathroom. Slipping her feet into the slippers which she'd found in the closet (although it was a tad larger than she'd preferred), she stepped into the bathroom and had a quick shower to force herself properly awake. Metanoia felt burdened with the oblivion of her identity; it was as though something was causing every nerve in her body to go on a tirade and gifting her with a curse of itchiness to unveil her truth.

Metanoia stepped out of the shower and diligently dried her body, before wrapping her hair up in her towel and getting dressed into some of the clothes Pan had given her last night. At the remembrance of their disastrous verbal exchange, Metanoia's cheeks flushed in sheer embarrassment. She could hardly fathom allowing herself to be talked down to, but in all honesty, with the way she felt the trepidation course through her veins throughout the entire day spent on Neverland yesterday, she couldn't blame herself. This was all very peculiar to her, and not having any recollection of her memory only made it harder for Metanoia to make sense of who she is. She quietly slipped on a pair of dark brown trousers that reached just below her knees, and tugged on a beige loose shirt. She then released her hair out of the towel and attempted to dry it, before her eyes landed on a wrapped box sitting on the small table beside the armchair at the other end of the room.

Her mind clicked in her skull upon remembering Theodore's gift to her which she had completely forgotten about up until this moment. She strode across the treehouse in a few steps and within three seconds, the box was in her hands. Metanoia's eyes danced curiously across the box, and she shook it for any hint on what the content of this gift was, but she failed to understand what that dull thud could be an indication of. Growing restless, Metanoia untied the straw-made ribbon and pulled apart the banana leaves covering the wooden box that lay there on the table waiting for her to lift its lid. Biting her lower lip in anticipation, she crouched down to the floor, resembling a frog's posture, and placed her fingers on the lid, before pulling it off and casting it aside.

She gasped softly upon gazing at the small mirror with a wooden frame sitting in the box. Metanoia picked it up cautiously, and peered at the smooth carvings of miniature animals on the wooden frame. She smiled, and her eyes widened upon casting her vision on her reflection. She was in awe of herself, finally being able to know what she looks like. Her long brown hair, currently damp, fell in waves against her back, and her piercing blue eyes stared right through her own soul through her reflection. Her cheekbones were finely defined, complimenting her button nose which flared involuntarily upon sniffing the smell of bacon through her bamboo-shuttered window. Her heart-shaped lips twitched into a smile as she heard her stomach rumble, almost causing an earthquake within her, and she felt her heart tug against her chest at Theodore's sweet gesture of bringing her a mirror.

She instantly remembered when she had confided in him yesterday about having no idea what she even looked like, and the fact that he'd been thoughtful enough to gift her with this was absolutely heartwarming. Metanoia placed the mirror back in its box and stood up, slipped her feet into a pair of boots she found in the closet which seemed to miraculously fit her perfectly, and she stepped out of her treehouse.