One moment she felt Opus' hands guiding her, helping her, though even those memories were shrouded in mist, and the next her eyes were fluttering open to stare at the clock on the nightstand. It ticked away happily, without a care in the world, and filled her vision with its intricate carvings and small little doors that would open only on the hour. It brought a smile to her lips.
Opus Dey the sentimental. It was an odd thought but one that seemed to be supported by the clock's very existence on this boat. At least he was sentimental when it came to her.
She sat up slowly, realizing that she felt completely rested for the first time in months, and also realizing that when the potion had taken hold her illusions had broken and she was on full display to anyone who might happen to walk in. Not that she cared...but humans were funny like that.
A wash basin with fresh water had be laid for her, along with a cleansing towel and a green dress from the collection of clothes selected for her before she had even set foot on board. Not just that, but before she had even decided to go. Opus didn't like being caught off guard and clearly planned for every situation and scenario, even situations as silly and unimportant as her.
It didn't take long before she was washed and dressed. Her hair, now an inch or two below her shoulders, had been intricately twisted into braids and pulled back to keep tendrils out of her face. This time, however, she didn't try to hide her ears. Instead, they poked out prominently between plaits like tiny beacons against her red and gold curls.
Opus was nowhere to be seen, but that didn't surprise her. He was a busy man who had spent two weeks recovering from some kind of transportation spell - she couldn't expect him to just sit for a minimum of five hours.
Her elvish eyes allowed her to see through the low light without a lamp, and she made her way to the door before stepping out into the silence. It was very quiet, especially for the amount of sunlight that lit the deck.