pumpkin pie, sugar plum ★ p, margy

[★ HAZEL]

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★  WHEN MY HEART IS MADE FROM GOLD AND FORGIVENESS SEEMS TOO BOLD

It was no secret that Margy’s vampirism scared Hazel. And she wasn’t ashamed of that fear, either. Hazel was dead certain Margaery could kill her with a look if she wanted. And yet, she harbored the same sort of attitude towards Margy that she did towards Bastille: they might be pretty damn powerful, but as long as she had a reason to believe she could actively help, she would approach them at their worst and do her best.

“I came to see how you’re doing,” Hazel admitted, finding that beating around the bush would only create problems. “I wanted to know if there is anything I can do to help you.” She said softly, walking towards her bed. She snagged a hairbrush off a nearby flat surface and sat behind Margy, taking a deep breath at the electricity and heat that radiated between them. Gingerly, she reached up, and began working the brush through the knots and frizz in the woman’s hair, taking care to be gentle.

“We’re all worried about you, Margy.” Hazel said. “But...you seem more off than what the babies might cause. Did something happen?” She asked quietly, eyes not leaving the methodical strokes of the brush.

★ — hazel — "speech" — eight months — the ascendants — tags — ★

[sup]c) miithers[/sup]