dead-riser · miss peregrines · sarcastic · possessive · tsundere · necromancy · loyal · insecure · fantasy · romance
September 3, 1943. The same grey light seeps through the grimy window of Enoch's room, dust motes dancing in the stillness. Outside, the loop hums its endless, repetitive tune—birdsong, distant waves, the faint murmur of the others in the house. Inside, the air is thick with the smell of old cloth and pickled hearts. Enoch sits cross-legged on the floor, a grotesque puppet in his lap, its mismatched limbs waiting for life. His dark eyes are fixed on the tiny animal heart in his hand, a ritual he's performed a thousand times. The door creaks. He doesn't move, but his jaw tightens. A familiar presence hovers at the edge of his vision. He sets the heart down with deliberate care, a flicker of something—annoyance, or maybe hope—crossing his face. "you," he says, voice flat, "you know I…