Lost Melody

Unheard Words

Water surrounded Camellia as she held her breath for as long as she could, eyes tightly shut against the waves. She gasped, and bubbles streamed from her mouth.

Seconds later, she slammed against solid ground, wondering if a black hole had sucked her in and spit her out again. The world in front of her was hazy, and she didn't register her audience as she stumbled to her feet, coughing and sputtering. She almost crashed into a doorknob, prying it open instead. Darkness stretched beyond the door, and something told her that it was too dangerous to go through it again. The door slammed shut by itself, leaving her staring at the intricacies decorating the door.

Camellia pulled on the doorknob, but it remained closed. She looked around at another person who stood beside the door, and backed away, finally registering her audience. The man was dressed in yellow, stood with the air and grace of a noble, a coat fluttering behind him. He had a look of surprise on his face—a look that said he'd seen everything the planet had had to offer, and yet he was surprised. A young woman stood behind him, her dark hair tied back in a ponytail, her eyes wide as she clung to the man's coat.

Camellia took another step back, her eyes moving over the rest of the audience, a swirl of colors greeting her recovering eyes.

"Ma cherie, what's your name?" asked the man in yellow.

Camellia didn't respond as she slid down the wall. She couldn't respond. She simply gestured around her instead.

"Paris, France," nodded a butler who seemed to understand what she was asking. "The 19th century. You've travelled through time."

Her eyes widened, wondering if he was kidding. She brushed water out of her eyes, trying desperately to think over the rush of blood in her ears. She lost her grip on reality, and a familiar feeling settled within her, as her heartbeat rose faster. She started shaking, she couldn't breathe, she was dying again—

A hand covered her mouth, and on instinct, she fought back.

"Arthur!"

Unable to win against a strength that seemed inhuman, her breathing slowed down.

"There we go." She opened her eyes to see blue eyes staring into her own. "You aren't dying, little bird." As soon as she settled back against the wall, he removed his hand, but didn't back away.

A man came to stand beside him, his eyes a shade lighter than Arthur's. "What the hell was that?"

"Panic attack," said Arthur nonchalantly. "Happened often to the soldiers during the war too." He turned his attention back to her. "Your name?"

She signed. C-A-M-E-L-L-I-A.

Arthur stared. Camellia felt her heart sink.

"Camellia?" asked the young woman. Camellia nodded.

"You know sign language as well? That's amazing," said another young man with light-blue eyes. Camellia looked between him and the other man who had his eyes. They seem to be siblings.

"You're deaf? But no," said Arthur, "You seem to be able to hear. Mute, then?"

Camellia nodded, signing sorry as she did.

"Don't apologize," said the woman. "I'm Kiara, and this—" she gestured to the yellow-dressed noble "—is the owner of this place, Le Comte de Saint-Germain."

Camellia nodded to him politely, and he returned it.

"Ma cherie, you should really get out of those clothes." He hardly looked away from her. "Sebastian."

The butler nodded as though he'd expected it, and then hoisted Camellia up with one arm. "Come along."

Camellia kept her head down, avoiding eye contact with the residents as she was dragged away.

After ushering her into a room and telling her to wash up as he left clothes laid out on the bed, the butler left. Camellia wondered as she did as she was told. Despite how genuine they sounded, she still had trouble believing they were in the 19th century. Only minutes ago, she was drowning in the ocean, and now she was in a completely different time in a completely different place. How? She grabbed her throat, wanting to speak, to sing, to do something, but she couldn't. Not anymore.

She headed out the room, donning the clothes they'd given her. Sebastian stood just outside her door, and then he took her down the hall to a drawing room, where a rather large group of people sat. Well, considering the size of the place, it'd be weird if not many people lived here. If there weren't so many people, it would probably seem a lot more like a haunted house.

"Warmed up?" asked a man who smelled awfully like tobacco. His brown hair fell across his eyes as he gave friendly nod.

"Leonardo, that sounded very wrong," chastised Kiara. She gave him an annoyed look before turning to le Comte. "Comte, should we tell her?"

Camellia tilted her head to show her interest.

"We probably should." He set down his tea cup. The second his eyes met Camellia's, she knew every word he was going to say was the truth. Comte gestured to Leonardo. "This is Leonardo da Vinci." Leonardo raised a hand in greeting.

"Arthur Conan Doyle," said Arthur, who was leaning against the back of the couch.

"Theodorus Van Gogh," said the harsher of the blue-eyed siblings.

"Vincent Van Gogh," said his brother with an angel's smile.

Camellia pursed her lips. She signed unenthusiastically OMG.

Kiara laughed as Comte smiled. "That's about right. I think that's enough surprises for today."

Comte nodded his agreement. When his eyes met Kiara's, Camellia sensed a flash of understanding pass through them.

"Well," said Arthur, pushing himself off the couch. His eyes met Camellia's, and a feeling of dread settled in her stomach. "There's something I wanted to ask her." He stepped closer with every word, until their shoes were touching, and Camellia nervously signed.

"She's telling you to back off."

"I gathered that," said Arthur, with the air of a man who had no intention of backing off. "You smelled of the ocean when you landed up here. Were you, by any chance, attempting to drown yourself?"

Her eyes shot open, and he smiled, as though that had answered his question.

Camellia crossed her arms and looked away from him. "Arthur, lay off her," said Comte, a rather dangerous look in his eyes.

Arthur raised both his hands as if proclaiming his innocence, and then he backed away.

"Ma cherie?" Camellia looked up at Comte. "I'm offering you a place in the mansion until I can send you home."

And when can I get home? she signed quickly.

"Normally, it would be next month," he said. "But currently, there's an issue with the door." He smiled apologetically at her look of dismay. "I'm looking into it, ma cherie."

"I was supposed to go home today," said Kiara, with a smile that said she'd been in Camellia's position not too long ago. "But time is warped or something of the sort. It's too dangerous to go home."

Camellia nodded in understanding, and signed again. Thank you for letting me stay.

Comte smiled. "It's the least I can do."

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It's been a while since I've written anything. Mostly because life.