Fableweaver 

Chapter 3: Caecilia de Luchella               Elusive, flickering shadows played over the outstretched form slumped over the desk. The cabin was dimly lit—a small three-branched candelabra resting on the desk was the only source of light. Though sparsely furnished, the cabin was elegant and comfortable, evidently designed for upper-class passengers. Besides the smooth walnut desk, there was a bunk against one wall—occupied by a noisy sleeper—and a small table, upon which rested a pitcher, basin, and an ivory hand mirror. Bags and boxes in great abundance were piled neatly in one corner of the berth, and a shawl and lace parasol hung on a hook by the door.                   The ship rolled, and the figure shifted in her position at the desk, murmuring restlessly as candlelight danced over the journal spread before her. A quill pen rested limply in her hand, and the ink was still wet upon the page.             “My dear sister, though we must be parted, I shall keep you in my thoughts daily, and I have resolved that I shall write in my journal whenever I think of you and miss your gentle smiles and our girlish, whispered conferences. Since I cannot whisper my secrets in your ear as in times past, I shall record them in this journal. By the end of my first year in a new home and a new land, I shall send this completed journal to you—that you may read and know every detail of my experiences, since the very day I left our beloved homeland.             Oh, I feel despairingly lonesome and forlorn when I think of you and Mother, and of our beautiful home in Silva. Shall I ever be able to forgive Father for sending me to live in a land I have never set foot on, to be wed to a man I have never laid eyes on? I suppose only time shall tell.             I must not think upon it any longer. Let me instead tell you about my first day aboard this ship that is steadily carrying me further and further away from Silva and towards a new life.             This morning, I rose early and went above deck to watch the sunrise. It was a beautiful sight! I only wish that you could have been with me to see it. And—oh! What I am about to say next shall surely shock you, gentle sister. You know how often you have chided me for my free and reckless ways. Madame Timpski was so sea-sick this morning, she could not accompany me to walk above deck. I could not bear to be below any longer, and so I went above unchaperoned whilst Madame slept! This must remain strictly between ourselves, Sister, but while above decks, I also conversed with a sailor-man. He was quite friendly, knew why I was on board, (gossip spreads quickly on ships), and escorted me back to the cabin where I read or embroidered like a proper young lady until Madame awoke. We spent the rest of the day either speaking with the other upper-class women aboard, or reading in the lounge.             One more thing. Madame unleashed one of her characteristic tongue-lashings upon me this afternoon. It was like this, you see. The sailor who I told you of greeted me most impertinently when Madame and I strolled about the forecastle after tea this afternoon, and asked me how I had liked the sunrise earlier. Madame, of course, realized at once what had happened, and has since kept me under her eagle eye. Oh, that most infuriating sailor! I shudder to think what drudgeries I shall have to undergo on this voyage, as I am afraid Madame will now keep me under lock and key in our cramped little cabin.             I am getting dreadfully sleepy. Madame is in the lower bunk, sound asleep. Did I tell you that she makes most unladylike wheezing and puffing noises in the night? I think I shall retire, though a breath of fresh air would be lovely…             Your dear sister,             Caecilia One more thing before I fall asleep. It was uncanny how the sailor’s eyes reminded me of…             There was only a scrawl of ink on the page, and the entry ended abruptly. Caecilia’s auburn head shone in the candlelight, rested upon her outstretched arm. She shifted in her sleep, and the quill pen dropped from her hand. She started, sat up, and scanned the room rapidly, her rich grey eyes still cloudy with fleeting dreams. The air in the cabin was warm and stale, and the figure in the lower bunk was motionless, still punctuating the still night with her muffled noises.             Caecilia sighed, eyed the cabin door wistfully, and ran her fingers through her long auburn hair. Slowly, she stood, took two steps towards the door, drew the bolt, and opened it soundlessly. Closing her eyes, and resting her head against the doorframe, she took a deep breath. Even the air in the hall between cabins was musty. And yet, as she stood there, motionless, a breath of vagrant sea breeze seemed to caress her face, enticing her above. She looked back into the dim cabin in indecision, then a ghost of a smile hovered upon her lips. In one quick motion, she whisked her shawl off the hook, gathered her dress about her, and disappeared into the darkness of the hall.

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Well, this is sort of a in-between chapter, but it has been so long since I've last written that it felt very nice to be back in the "swing of things" once more! I will try to write more soon while I'm in this mood. :) 

~Teal