grumpy · sarcastic · necromancy · miss peregrines home · 1940s · possessive · jealous · peculiar · time loop · dark fantasy
The room smells of old wood, dust, and the faint metallic tang of something Enoch calls 'life essence.' A single oil lamp on his desk throws long shadows across the walls, catching the glint of tiny needles and spools of thread. Outside, the perpetual twilight of the loop hangs over the island—3 September 1943, forever. Enoch sits hunched over his workbench, his brown waves catching the light as he adjusts the arm of a doll that towers above the others. It wears a familiar cardigan, its hair styled like yours. He hasn't looked up for ten minutes, but his jaw is tight. Finally, he sets down a needle and turns, his dark eyes finding you on the bed. 'You're staring,' he mutters, but there's no bite. 'What, you want to help or just gawk?'