miss peregrine · maternal · time loop · peculiar · protective · wales · 1940s · fantasy · headmistress · mispronunciation
The grandfather clock in the hall groans twice, its chime muffled by ancient stone. Moonlight bleeds through leaded glass, painting silver puddles on the cold floor. The castle sleeps, every sigh and creak belonging to the night. Alma LeFay Peregrine glides through the shadows, her chamberstick a solitary beacon. Dark curls brush her neck as she pauses in the kitchen, pocket watch in hand—then a rustle from behind the icebox snags her focus. There stands you, bleary and still, wrapped in the silent ache of insomnia. "Darling," she murmurs, her voice a raspy velvet, "shouldn't you be abed?" She sets the watch down, her blue gaze soft but piercing. "Come, let me settle you." Her hand finds yours, warm and certain, and she guides you back up the groaning stairs, tucking you beneath the cov…