[2] Ephemeral - Edmund Pevensie

Chapter 5: Nighttime

CHAPTER 5

Still, hours after supper, the rain outside the cabins was pouring, thunder was cracking, and gusts of wind was blowing harshly. The storm outside made Pommella unable to sleep, with all the noise outside, and yet it was midnight already. She tried distracting herself by counting the number of daggers and swords she had — fifteen, in total — but still, she couldn't sleep. Maybe because she had an odd urge to go out to the deck and dance in the rain, or because she wanted so dearly to destroy the blood pact.

The blood pact was still in top shape, though there were dents on the metal, and she was wearing it around her neck. Due to the number of times she had tried breaking it, there was a weird reaction to the pact: the blood inside became hot. So, when she wore it around her neck, the glass that pressed against her exposed skin felt hot, and when she took it off, her skin was red from irritation from the heat. Now, though, the pact had cooled down a little, so she could wear it safely around her neck. 

That's when she heard a loud shout that issued from one of the other rooms.

She jumped back, startled by the shout. Curious, she pried her door open to see what was going on. Maybe some water leaked into the ship, or maybe one of the crews got scared of something. That actually had happened before, as she remembered it, one brown-haired man saw the shadow of an apple and thought it was a sea monster. It didn't make sense, to Pommella, because apples had no resemblance in shape or size to a sea monster, but still, she found it hilarious. She waited, discreetly peeking from the small opening of the door, but saw no sign of anyone. 

Well, she was a bit paranoid, maybe she was just hearing things. But, then again, the shout sounded very real.  It sounded like a man's shout and sounded extremely spooked about something. She really wanted to know. She was  nosy, after all, though she believed she was just 'abnormally curious, beyond your average level of curiosity.' 

Consequently, she closed the door stilly, making sure not to make any noise. Turning around, she felt she just might have a heart attack at the sudden appearance of a figure, not more than a silhouette.

The silhouette looked small, a head shorter than Pommella, and was wearing a dress, hair tied into a beautiful braided bun. As the thunder cracked, the silhouette was illuminated for just a split second, and Pommella caught the color of the figure; a white dress with specks of blood on the bottom, blonde hair, and skin as white as sand. 

"Who are you?" Pommella asked quietly, her brain working on a way to attack. "How did you get in? Where are you from?"

"Me?" said the figure, in a mellifluous voice. "Me? Oh, me?"

"Yes, you." scoffed Pommella, putting her hand on her hip.

"Oh, can't you see?" the figure said, vocalizing her last words.

No matter how beautiful the figure looked, Pommella couldn't help but have a feeling that she was a threat. Out of instinct, Pommella slowly walked to the side, reaching for a sword. The figure followed, and now they were walking face-to-face in a circle, looking threateningly gorgeous.

"No, I can't see, I'm blind," said Pommella sarcastically, trying to distract the girl.

"Too bad," she chimed in, striding forward. "You can't see how beautiful I look."

"Ooh, sounds alluring." 

Pommella saw the sword stand come closer into view. She extended her hand, she reached for the closest sword, still in its sheath, drew it out of its sheath, pointed it to the girl, then lunged forward, getting ready to attack, then —

The girl waved her hand, then, disappeared, poof.  

Then, Pommella felt the soft feeling of a duvet, a pillow —

She sat up on her bed, screaming, then looked for her sword on her nightstand. She grabbed it, then clutched it tightly, while her eyes searched the room for a sign of anyone inside it. Magically, there was no one there. 

She tried to recall her dream, how it felt so real but so unreal. The feeling bothered her, but not only that, but the dream itself bothered her. There was a girl. . . they were talking. . . about beauty. . . they were walking in circles. . . then she attacked, and then woke up. Yes, that was it! But, what was the meaning of the dream? Why did it scare her? Who was that girl? The girl seemed awfully familiar, like from a dream of a dream, but somehow, she couldn't place her finger on it. Was the girl here? In her room? Or did she have the dream because the girl was nearby? Perhaps she might meet her at the Lone Islands. She'd have to be careful. . . 

Pommella shook her head mentally, she was being idiotic, paranoid, and unrealistic. There was no way a girl with a bloody dress would be lurking somewhere nearby, ready to talk about how beautiful she looked.

But, still, the questions reappeared. Who was that girl? She couldn't help but think that this girl was real. She seemed real, after all. She looked extremely gorgeous. The dream felt so real, it was playing with her, trying to make her believe all those fake scenarios made in her mind. She felt an odd urge to go and run to Caspian's room, where Edmund slept, too, and just tell them all about her dream. Tell them that she had a bad dream about a girl, and Pommella almost attacked her.

No, no that sounded so wrong.  She'd have to work it out properly. But still, it sounded wrong.  It sounded laughable, even. Caspian knew perfectly well that Pommella liked to prank people, trick them. He just might think her dream was no more than her pulling a prank. Pommella, of course, couldn't blame him. She had pranked him more than once, and she always got him. Except for the last time.

During the tournament in Galma, Pommella had planned a prank to pretend to be one of the swordsmen on one of the horses. She wanted to show him that she could fight, too. Yes, that was all she wanted to do, prove a point. She managed to get out at the field, got on a horse and a sword, a suit, yet still was caught by Caspian. Something gave her away. Maybe it was her woman-like body, or the way she strutted forward, or the way she held her sword. Either way, she was caught, and since then, Caspian had become very careful when Pommella came around.

She tried distracting herself with other thoughts, but she couldn't. The lingering thought of her dream bothered her very much. She laid down on her bed, covering her face with her soft pillow. Like most of her things, she needed the best there was, and her pillow was one of the things that fell into that category.

Without any more thoughts, she fell asleep, her body enveloped in a soft duvet.