04-08-2020, 07:20 PM
An audible release of breath puffed from the collie's mouth as the first Tangler made his appearance. The conviction that this first stranger was their little brother so strong it stole the air from the 15th century spirit's lungs. Margery's eyes, two pinpoints of golden hazel, brightened at the sight, giving her muddied form a sense of vitality. How do you know Beck? He said, giving ample reason to doubt her fierce conviction, but Margery already tripped and had fallen deep into her fantastical idealism.
Seven years, they claimed, was the age of reason. Margery was seven years old when Beck disappeared. She knew something was missing then, and she was certain she would know when her heart became whole once more. There were not six of them, there were seven. Seven was a holy number. Seven symbolized the wholeness and perfection. There could be no mistake.
Not much time had elapsed before a new and towering figure touched down to the earth, carrying the same sort of wariness as Beck did, though she was confused to as of why. Margery, for all her purposes and appearances, resembled a common street mutt and mongrel, hardly anything to be frightened by — though she understood that Tobias was frightened by canine animals, and this troubled her deeply.
Margery listened thoughtfully to her brothers as they reasserted their stance. Her elbows bent slightly to assume a humble stance once Snarl made her appearance. The dog understood no borders, as the concept of a nation-state had not been developed in her human life, and she had spent the last half-century wandering like a dog, transcending borders. This she realized, was a civilization of sorts. The next member made less menacing moves, but she wondered what good it would do against the two larger animals.
Her sisters took their turn to speak, but Margery notably stayed taciturn. Her eyes betrayed a certain and peculiar sorrow. Decades of not using her human tongue had rendered her to an almost mute-like state. The fate of joining up with her siblings again was thrust upon her, and she was slowly starting to relearn once more thanks to that. This is why some of the words went over her head. It was also why she did not introduce herself. Someone would have to do it for her, or perhaps she would gather the tongue to speak it. But Margery didn't seem to mind too much. She read their faces instead. Actions speak so much louder than words, of course.
As if acting by some will that was not her own, Margery stepped forward, one delicate white paw sinking into the mud with a strange squelching sound. She was close enough to perhaps brush past Ambrose as she slowly exposed herself. She took another step, in Beck's direction. Her eyes blinked slowly, eyelashes speckled with mud fluttering. The freckles spread across the bridge of her nose was apparent. She said nothing, of course, and by no means her gaze was meant to be taken as one who is evaluating or examining. He was a person, not a threat or a freak of nature. If his rat-like form or missing cheek unnerved her, Margery betrayed no outward emotion of it. Because it just simply didn't. And she loved him.
Seven years, they claimed, was the age of reason. Margery was seven years old when Beck disappeared. She knew something was missing then, and she was certain she would know when her heart became whole once more. There were not six of them, there were seven. Seven was a holy number. Seven symbolized the wholeness and perfection. There could be no mistake.
Not much time had elapsed before a new and towering figure touched down to the earth, carrying the same sort of wariness as Beck did, though she was confused to as of why. Margery, for all her purposes and appearances, resembled a common street mutt and mongrel, hardly anything to be frightened by — though she understood that Tobias was frightened by canine animals, and this troubled her deeply.
Margery listened thoughtfully to her brothers as they reasserted their stance. Her elbows bent slightly to assume a humble stance once Snarl made her appearance. The dog understood no borders, as the concept of a nation-state had not been developed in her human life, and she had spent the last half-century wandering like a dog, transcending borders. This she realized, was a civilization of sorts. The next member made less menacing moves, but she wondered what good it would do against the two larger animals.
Her sisters took their turn to speak, but Margery notably stayed taciturn. Her eyes betrayed a certain and peculiar sorrow. Decades of not using her human tongue had rendered her to an almost mute-like state. The fate of joining up with her siblings again was thrust upon her, and she was slowly starting to relearn once more thanks to that. This is why some of the words went over her head. It was also why she did not introduce herself. Someone would have to do it for her, or perhaps she would gather the tongue to speak it. But Margery didn't seem to mind too much. She read their faces instead. Actions speak so much louder than words, of course.
As if acting by some will that was not her own, Margery stepped forward, one delicate white paw sinking into the mud with a strange squelching sound. She was close enough to perhaps brush past Ambrose as she slowly exposed herself. She took another step, in Beck's direction. Her eyes blinked slowly, eyelashes speckled with mud fluttering. The freckles spread across the bridge of her nose was apparent. She said nothing, of course, and by no means her gaze was meant to be taken as one who is evaluating or examining. He was a person, not a threat or a freak of nature. If his rat-like form or missing cheek unnerved her, Margery betrayed no outward emotion of it. Because it just simply didn't. And she loved him.