°~30th December, 1789~°

(Y/N POV)

The travel had been much worse than that of 1781. The freezing conditions made it almost impossible to move out of your bed. Thankfully, Eric had been placed in a separate room from me and Emily, who both shared one together. Despite the bitterness of the winter, we were only provided with a single pillow and a blanket. I'd try wrapping myself up but with every small tug of the sheet, my bare feet would become exposed. I'd try wrestling my hands beneath the pillow but to no avail, it didn't help for the rest of my body that trembled in the gradually decreasing temperatures. Even in the darkness, you could detect the rise of your own breath surrounding the air.

Upon the main deck wasn't any better. Layers of ice were often scattered across, which required at least four men with boathooks to clear it all. Yet it was no use, for the next day the dreaded ice would make its triumphant return. These boathooks were not only used for the ship but to break ice that blocked our path, should we ever require it. It wasn't terrible to the extent that the ship couldn't make it through but there were large fragments of ice here and there, frozen by the chilling air.

Christmas made no difference to the mood, either. We still lingered in this endless void of coldness: no presents, no happy wishes, nothing. Emily's cheerful spirit had been vaporized with the wind, a sight that I hadn't seen long since John's death. The only one who wasn't entirely spiritless was Eric, who acted as if he were almost used to this weather. He tried using flattery to radiate me but I knew his ways; he was still that cunning man making attempts to entice me. Alas, his antics always failed.

To keep myself as fully occupied as I could, I chose to read Charles' book. I had found it rather captivating, although I had only read a third of the way through it. I too wondered myself how I had not finished it as of yet, but sometimes I wonder if I just trail away from the story and become lost in my own thoughts. In any case, this book told the story of three sisters born to a corrupt 18th Century society. The parents and one of the sisters perished at the hand of society's cruelty, leaving the two sisters to fend for themselves. However, they were taken in and raised by a kind innkeeper man who taught them to be moral civilians and rise up against the corruption of the world.

I understood why Charles enjoyed it so much.

Now we were arriving into the harbour where we could rest our feet upon solid land again. The nausea of this journey had gotten the better of me.

"Excited?" Eric asked, stretching his hands out over the edge of the ship. Just like it had been when we were reaching the harbour in 1781.
"Thrilled." I replied sarcastically.
He chuckled. "Personally, I would consider it a great privilege to be acquainted with the King... Then again, I was bred, born and raised in this country."
"So was I!" I exclaimed. "But still I find no gratification in this..."

"And what about your sister?" Eric glanced to Emily. She was leaning over the port side of the ship; I couldn't interpret if she was merely watching the waves pass or was about to be sick. Her pale face told me sickness, but her gleaming eyes told me curiosity. "She bares an accent, too."
"...Emily doesn't remember her life before she came to us." I lied. "So whatever happened, it must have been traumatizing to her."

"Poor girl." he sighed. "It's strange because without being biologically related, you both look scarily similar."
I laughed nervously. "We get that a lot."
He shrugged. "You never know. Perhaps before her memory was lost, there was some relation between the two of y-"

"Prepare the anchor!!" A sailor ordered, frantically rushing about the deck.
Eric sniffled and stared out to the city before us. "It is truly beautiful, Sophie, you and your sister will love it."
"Mm, I hope the display of the city itself will make up for foolishly visiting this lunatic..."

He chuckled and placed his hand onto mine. I wanted to draw away but it radiated such warmth that I couldn't. Besides, after this, I would probably never see him again, unless he mysteriously appeared from nowhere once more.

"If you ever need anything, just write to me." Eric reassured me. He took out a small sheet of paper with multiple addresses written upon them. He edged closer to me, our shoulders now almost touching, and pointed to the one with a large dot beside it. "That is where I will be next."
"Well I am flattered, Mr Harrison, but I don't believe that I will ever require anything from you." I decided to tease. If this were our final time acquainted, I'd try to make the most from it.

"You never know, Miss Hamilton." He arched his face in front of mine, smiling. "The strangest of things often happen in this world."
I recognised that look. It was not a look that I admired. I grinned back out of politeness. "Don't think that I don't know that look."
"What look?" He continued to smile.

I shook my head, making my way over to Emily. "Everthing okay?"
"Oh, I'm just observing."
"The waves?"
"The waves."

"Well, are you coming?"
"Hm?" She swivelled her head to me.
"To pack?"
Emily glanced out at the distant city. It was like she felt... uneasy, not just because of the sea sickeness or the cold.

"...Yeah, I'm coming."

~

The plank was pushed across to the dock, allowing flocks of people to exit immediately. Purple seemed to be a fashionable colour amongst the rich for almost all wealthy citizens wore it. Meanwhile here I was covered in blue with a brown coat supporting me.

We were on the lookout for Eliza's sister, Angelica. She was mainly recognised for her astounding beauty, though that was not what she wished to be recognised for. She was a strong supporter of rights for all women and become fairly engrossed by my story. She was one person that I could strongly say supported me, unlike most others.

It came to my turn across the plank. Scouting the docks, my eyes fell upon a woman matching up to her precise identity. "There she is!" I called back to Emily. I trailed along the wooden boards and to the woman I was inclined to call my Aunt. She pulled me into a hug on site, offering her arm out to Emily as she abandoned the ship at long last also.

"Are you both well?" she checked.
"I wish I could say I was but I have almost frozen alive on that ship." I joked.
"We had predicted so. The winter this year isn't the most pleasant of seasons. Come, we'll get you into the warmth." Angelica walked with her hands on our shoulders, immediately directing us to an opulent carriage. Awaiting inside appeared to be her husband, John Church.

He opened the door for us, opening out his hand for us to take. Without hesitance, Emily entered first. Angelica offered me second place but I was stopped by a voice. "Miss Hamilton, wait!" Eric came panting towards the carriage. He gulped at its sophistication and obvious affluence. "I... I'd like to wish you well."
"That is very kind of you."

It was clear that he'd hoped to say more but was intimidated by John Church's presence. "...Good day to you, Miss Hamilton." Eric took his perhaps final leave with a kiss to my hand. Our eyesight crossed for a second, but then he was gone.

He was gone.

~~~~~~~~~~

Happy (late) 277th birthday, Thomas Jefferson!