Guest: I'm glad you're enjoying it so far! :) Here's number 3 hon~

~O~

Another chair had at some point been added to the table, and Eleanor sat between Emma and a young girl that was currently roped down, who she now knew was named Olive.

"Does Britain still rule the world?" she inquired.

"Has it changed much out there?" said another.

"Is the war nearly over?"

"Children, please." Miss Peregrine huffed. "Polite person's do not berate their guests with questions." The table grew quiet, and she heard heavy footfalls as Enoch came down the stairs and entered the room. He sat at the end of the table, and without pausing to greet his fellow peculiars he began to serve himself. Miss Peregrine's lips tightened, but she turned away from him and instead addressed the only empty chair at the table.

"Mr. Nulling's, I shouldn't have to tell you that it is impolite to come to supper in the nude." She said sternly. Elle heard a grumble come from the empty chair, and muffled a giggle. Millard was gone for only a moment, returning wearing a cap, and in that time the chatter had started back up albeit quietly. Emma turned to her, flashing a smile.

"So what is it you do?" she popped a piece of ham in her mouth.

"I do?"

"Yes, what is it that makes you peculiar?" she clarified with a scoff, scooping up some cranberries.

"Oh, I dunno." Eleanor muttered, pushing her food around her plate before stuffing a fork full in her mouth. Delicious.

Emma rolled her eyes, nudging her with her elbow. "What do you mean you don't know? You have to know!"

"Miss Elle's abilities have only just developed Miss Bloom." Miss Peregrine interrupted. There was something serious in the statement, thought it evaded the newest member, and Emma dropped the subject with a nod. A boy who sat further down the table spoke up, his top hat bobbing when he dabbed at his mouth with an embroidered napkin.

"So Miss Elle, would you be willing to enlighten us as to the current status of the war?" he queried, his voice nothing but polite formality. The entire table seemed to become alert at this, and she felt Emma stiffen next to her.

"Well," Elle felt herself flush slightly as all eyes rested on her, and she continued shakily; "I can't say I know everything that is going on, only that they've been bombing all over London and they're still trying to evacuate everyone."

The table was deathly quiet, and Bronwyn was the first to speak up.

"What about the other children, have they gotten them all out yet?" Her brows scrunched together, worry filling her voice.

"They're trying. It's hard when-"

"What about the schools? What are they doing about-"

"And the soldiers? Are the soldiers helping-?"

Emma stood abruptly, her chair scratching against the floor. The Peculiars went silent. Her face was twisted into a glare. Everything seemed to go still, and Eleanor was certain she could feel the heat radiating from her. She eyed everyone at the table, scowling, before storming out the entryway.

"Did I say something wrong?" Eleanor breathed softly, eyes wide as Emma stamped up the stairs.

"No," Miss Peregrine said, "The war has been hard on all of us. Especially Miss Bloom." Eleanor nodded, though not fully understanding.

"So how did you get here?" The curt question surprised even Eleanor, and several heads turned to face the voice located at the end of the table. Enoch had his head rested against one fist, his head tilted to the side as he gazed at Eleanor questioningly. Miss Peregrine frowned, her mouth opening to scold Enoch for his callous remark, but Elle answered before she had the chance.

"Miss Peregrine found me when the air raid sirens went off." She said forcibly. Memories from only a day and a half ago came burning back to the forefront of her mind. She felt her eyes become glassy, and she blinked rapidly to keep them from falling. "She led me to safety, then brought me here." The table was quiet, and several of the peculiars turned to glare at Enoch. He gave a small nod before looking back to his food, stabbing several bean pods with his fork. He chewed stoically, either unware of the stares he was receiving or blatantly ignoring them. When he finished eating he stood, carrying his plate into the next room over and laying it in the sink. Eleanor watched his retreating form disappear around the corner, and the sound of the cellar door slamming shook the old house. Deciding it would be best to leave, Eleanor coughed politely.

"May I be excused to wash my dishes?" Miss Peregrine nodded her consent and Eleanor carried her dishes to the scullery. She reached into the deep sink and lathered the cloth between her hands, washing and drying her plate and silverware before storing it in the cupboard.

The buzz of conversation continued in the other room, a gentle hum of voices that she would have to learn to recognize. She tried to pick them apart them for a moment, managing to recognize Millard's polite but teasing tone, and Olive's chirpy squeals, but unable to recognize anyone else. She stood next to the sink, scratching at the metal absentmindly. She didn't want to go back. She didn't want to be met with a barrage of questions. She tiptoed to the backdoor, cautiously listening for a pause in the hum of talking, and when it continued without problem she slipped out into the night.

The sun had just set, and darkness was settling. She slipped down the stairs, the small rock walkway crunching under her feet. The air was cool, crisp and moist, and she felt a chill nip at her skin. The coolness, despite the lack of rain, reminded her of home.

Or what used to be home.

She turned to face the building, wrapping her arms around herself.

This is your home now.

Suddenly a wall broke in her, a reservoir of emotion, and she felt a choked sob rip from her throat. Her hand came up to muffle it, and she let herself slip to the sidewalk. Her knees dug into the pebbles and she cried openly into her hands. The last two days she had been running solely on adrenaline, and now safe, the gravity of the situation weighed down on her. They were stuck, like the loop in a hook rug, stuck in a cozy little world perfectly preserved while the outside raged on. The war would continue. And they, in a way, would not.

Every day for the last year that she had woken wondering how she had made it through the night…would never happen again.

She was safe.

The realization brought on a cool sense of relief, until she heard the sirens.

~O~

*Does a little dance*

Sooo…good, bad, ugly? Let me know~

Also, rounded up her 1 ½ to 2 towards the end if you were wondering why it changed. : )