SINGING MOTHER MARY ★ p, margy

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

Seemingly difficult, the concept was not hard to comprehend. Hazel was unaware that she shared a room with a person skilled in murder (though unwillingly so), the same way that Margaery was unaware she shared a room with a former goddess. Granted, there were hints to these juxtapositions, if one were to look hard enough. For Margaery, it might be in the swing of hostile to docile moods, or her restlessness. For Hazel, it was in her aura.

At the shift in mood, Hazel felt her shoulders slump and relax as Margy’s tone lightened. That topic had been itchy and uncomfortable, steadily creeping towards the exposure of her past. So when Margy admitted another truth to her (gone unacknowledged as a secret in the first place), Hazel smiled, bright and radiant, her aura pulsing with renewed vigor. Family. Margaery had a family, and that - wow, that was one of the coolest things to Hazel. It was one of the things she wanted the most: a complete family.

“That’s so cool,” Hazel purred, quiet with awe. “You sound like you love them a lot.” She observed.

★ — hazel — "speech" — six months — the ascendants — tags — ★
c) miithers