Imagine That: Multifandom Part Two

what fire can't touch【three】| emma bloom

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Since training with Emma, it meant I was settling in a lot easier than I had been, which included spending the occasional evening with the others rather than locking myself in my room.

Tonight, we were all getting comfortable, ready to watch another one of Horace's strange yet prophetic dreams projected before us in the living room. His peculiarity was the ability to see the future through his dreams, but it wasn't as straightforward as that. His dreams could either be super specific or vague nonsense that he had to decipher. It was the latter that we all got a treat out of watching, like the 20th century equivalent of TV.

"Okay, sshh, it's starting," Hugh spoke over everyone's conversations, as Horace stepped in front of the room expectantly.

Chatter ceased as all eyes were on him. His arms were dramatically folded behind his back as he spoke.

"Tonight's viewing," he announced, "is brief, but rich in symbolism."

Emma groaned softly from beside me. "It's always rich in symbolism."

"Art," Horace responded with a hint of impatience, "is not appreciated in its time."

I cracked a small smile as the others giggled at his words and Emma playfully rolled her eyes. Horace took a seat on the couch opposite the projection screen Miss Peregrine had set up earlier and began to project his dreams onto it, using a strange telescope and his eye.

The dream flickered to life: shadowy figures marching backward, a goat in a top hat, then someone falling slowly into a giant teacup. Already, some of the others were stifling laughter whilst others were amazed by the absurdity of it. I was somewhere in the middle.

Horace cleared his throat proudly. "As you can see, themes of descent and social ritual–"

"–and goats in formalwear," I added nonchalantly.

Emma snickered from beside me, nudging at me to stay quiet.

"–themes of descent and social ritual," he repeated, as if I hadn't spoken, "are prominent in tonight's dreams."

"But the goats are formally dressed," Enoch pointed out. "Kind of like you, Horace."

We all chuckled at Enoch's comment, making Horace scoff quietly.

"Their attire has nothing to do with the dream," he defended. "Nor myself."

"I wouldn't dismiss the idea," Enoch muttered, eliciting some more giggles.

On the screen, the goat in the top hat jumped out of the tea cup and began galloping into what changed into a mid-western backdrop.

"So, does he get a cowboy hat now?" I asked, if only to pull at Horace's leg.

"His attire isn't relevant!" Horace burst, losing his patience.

Everyone began to laugh, including Emma, whose I could hear the clearest because she was right next to me. It was the first time I'd ever really listened to it, or acknowledged it rather, but it sounded quite... well, lovely.

The scene moved on to something different, and Horace cleared his throat calmly. "If the commentary is over..."

"Sorry," I apologised, but I wasn't, not when Emma was still grinning at my joke and her laughter still rang in my head like a lullaby.

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It was a few months after the first attempt of killing the hollow when Miss Peregrine, Emma and I were stood atop the hill, waiting for it to return at midday.