𝐋𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 ❃ 𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫 (𝐡.𝐡.)

[ 𝐈𝐗.] 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘀𝗼𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻

〝 𝘐𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘶𝘵𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘵𝘰 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘶𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘴𝘰𝘭𝘶𝘵𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘴. 〞

𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗲 - 〚 consolation 〛
date: 12.31.1928
╰┈➤ 𝗜𝗡 𝗪𝗛𝗜𝗖𝗛; Marion reveals the one secret to Alastor that she swore she never would.

✧༺♥༻✧

Marion was an intelligent individual, there was no denying that; learning English leagues before the entirety of her family, graduating school two years before her twin due to being bumped up numerous grades, she held no hesitance in admitting that she saw herself in a slightly different perspective than she did most others.

Yet even with all the wit that she could ever possibly muster, she was unable to think of a way out of the situation which she had dug herself into. A part of her was almost annoyed, in a strange sense of the word; she was being scrutinized because he couldn't see past some faulty disguise. How was that her fault?

"Oh, don't look at me like that," Marion grumbled at Alastor, clutching the pieces of broken mask in one hand. Flicking her hair over her shoulder, she felt herself roll her eyes. "Who did you think would be beneath this mask — it doesn't even cover my entire face! What were you expecting, Alastor, honestly?"

Alastor merely stared at her, honey-colored eyes wide with immense befuddlement. It seemed as if the notion of words currently eluded him, his face strangely rosy in pigmentation. "You... the one from the fucking flower shop!?"

Marion rolled her eyes once more, using her free hand to sheath her bloodied knife. "No, the one from the bakery — yes, you dense moron! Goodness! Honestly, Allie, I didn't take you for a fool... yet here we are, it seems..."

A scoff escaped past her lips, running a hand through her dirty blonde hair. It was silent, tension masked as irritation within the air. "So..." Alastor began hesitantly after a few moments, "You're name isn't actually Mae?"

Marion paused, gaze drifting down to her broken mask. I'm going to have to make a new one... "It's a childhood nickname. No one except your mother and my sister call me by it anymore." When she was a child, she could never properly pronounce her own name, het tongue able to form nothing more explicit than a garbled version of the first syllable — hence, the nickname which her family had often referred to her as.