Unfamiliar Ceiling [For Amelia Ronsam]

[u_can_have_it_4_a_song]

Dappled sunlight and soft birdsong await when Amelia wakes. The room in which she does so features whitewashed plaster walls surmounted by smoke-darkened beams, standing over a well-fitted hardwood floor covered by woven-rag rugs. A desk sits by the window, paired with a chair in which sits a well-dressed man, currently occupied in reading a slim book. Next to the door are a mirror and a table with a pitcher and basin; opposite them stands a wardrobe.

Amelia herself lies atop the blankets of a single bed that smells faintly of lavender, having been neither undressed nor disarmed. The wall is to one side of her, a nightstand to the other. If she cared to assume that a trunk stood at the foot of the bed, she would not be mistaken.

Comments

[rogueinladysclothing]

It's the smell that slowly draws Amelia away from her dreamless sleep. It isn't like home, or any other place she's been in her life. The lavender was calming - which immediately caught her attention. Why would she need the aid for calming? Nothing in particular had happened that would have set her off the day before.

Except...

Amelia's sudden realization that something was wrong had her sitting up in bed with remarkable speed. She quickly checked herself for her things - clothes, weapons, hair pin - before surveying her surroundings. Everything about the place was unfamiliar, with one exception.

"I suppose this means all those things I could've sworn were a nightmare were, in fact, real, then?"