gellavonhamster: peculiar aesthetics (7/?) - Alma LeFay PeregrineI turned to look, and there on the
gellavonhamster: peculiar aesthetics (7/?) - Alma LeFay PeregrineI turned to look, and there on the floor, lying amidst a pile of parts, was Miss Peregrine. Bruised, tied, struggling to speak through a haze of pain or drugs, but there nonetheless and gazing at me with those piercing green eyes.“Don’t,” she said softly. “Don’t do that.” Her voice barely audible, barely there.“Miss Peregrine!”I lowered the vial, corked it, scrambled on my hands to where she lay. This second mother of mine, this peculiar saint. Fallen, hurt. Dying, perhaps. -- source link
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