The lion the Witch and the wardrobe.

White Noise

In a grey Manor far off the cost of London, farther even more from its contiguous in the terror of London itself , Eleonora Lionheart was cooped up right on the top of Mr. Digory Kirke's  manor, out of all the plush rosy rooms, the snugly mahogany ones, as well as the delicate and sophisticated pieces in such chambers were not of her attention, she only wanted  the attic. The old dusty attic nobody had even thought about in ages, Ms. Macready heavily objectified, insisting that she will not be responsible for yet another room, but after much convincing (And the promise of keeping it pristine) it was made possible. Granted, she had the entire attic to herself which was double the space she could get in any other room, really she turned it into a flat than a room, in the corner she had a small but working heater (Which she used as a stove putting some metal grills over it) with a small table and her cooking utensils to go beside it , a bed, a book and in a small separation an old gruffy but working bathroom. The only thing missing from her little corner of a home was a bathtub, she had to ascend every night to take a shower. That along with Mr. Kirke's lessons (English, Science and Arithmetic) were the only thing that could lure her out of her cave, except occasionally the need for firewood. 

Ellora heard the Pevensies walk in. 

It was a Wednesday morning like any other she boiled hot water on her ¨Stove¨ to clean her wooden floors when she heard them. Her entire body flinched at the cruel sound of Ms. Macready's voice barking orders  in the kids ears, she turned the boiling water off as too help herself listen intently to the children's voices, one guy and.. three girls...? thou the last one had a slightly deeper pitch than girls voice should have, it was so tender, Elora could not decipher. They waltzed their way to the study. 

¨You may not access Mr. Kirke's private study, the basement or the attic.¨ said Ms. Macready standing in the very door of the study. 

Ellora let out a breath she didn't know was holding, for the attic, or rather the only entrance to the attic was right on top of the study, she could hear the soft steps of the her new neighbors as the explored the study they could be in. 

¨Once again, no bothering Mr. Kirke, his guests, or his student understood?¨ She barked again. 

Was it really necessary for them to know about me? She thought exasperated. She only needed bathing, food, classes  and wood, all those could be gained late at night, except  her classes which weren't much of a problem since she had a key to his private study, and as she now knew they weren't aloud in there.  

¨This reminds me of dads mockingbird¨ chirped a cheerful voice ¨Ill get it when we get back¨ she said again. 

Pain. 

Chilling and dripping down her back like lava pouring down a century of green  mountains and tainted memories. For a moment she is reminded of her sister, the one she left behind to escape from London's police force after her horrible crime. Did she sound like this voice, childish, naïve and thoughtful or had she withered into a cynical, realistic and selfish voice once she had learned what her older sister did to her, to her family. She closed her eyes as she tried to stop her heartstrings from snapping, for now, she would remember Rosalina as this voice she hears now. Without  the thorn of her sin or time. 

¨Everything was blow into bits , Lu.¨ said a voice almost mocking the cheerful little voice. he whistled and then made a bang! noise with his mouth Ellora could hear clearly. 

Yeah, he is definitely a boy She thought, only a boy would make such a prudish spiteful joke.

¨Edmund!¨ Hollered a clearly male, baritone voice. 

This however gave Ellora three very clear pieces of information 1. They were related somehow as she couldn't see why the other were so mad at this ¨Edmund¨ for a joke if they did not know  this father personally.  2. Unlike her they were here because of the war, she gathered that from the ¨blown to bits ¨ part.  3.However this Edmund kid was, she already didn't like him. Slightly at ease with the information she gathered she creeped her way towards her makeshift stove. Her mind went a thousand miles per hour as the people's voices under her where gibberish. The water started to boil.