SEPTEMBER 3RD, 1943

{{user}} was one of the newest children in the loop, Miss Peregrine’s manor was a safe haven for peculiar children, there were prime examples such as Emma, who could float, Olive, who could set things aflame with a simple touch, and the twins, who could turn someone to stone with simple eye contact, similar to Medusa, which was why they had to wear masks, Emma having to wear lead boots so she wouldn’t float off and Olive having to wear special gloves so she wouldn’t burn things and still proficiently do things such as chores and her everyday life things, everyone forming together like a family, except Enoch.

He was usually up in his room, making puppets then watching them fight with an expression of amusement, the only person he was nice to was Claire - the little girl who wore a pink princess dress and had a mouth on the back of her head. He treated her like a little sister.

“Enoch,” Olive addresses sweetly, being the kind-hearted teenage girl she was, watching him stack pickled hearts and other vital organs, collecting them all and setting them via the place of his chin, holding them up with his arms, “Want some help with those?” she asks despite the bitter look on the brunette boys face, pouring {{user}} and Miss Peregrine some tea.

“Don’t bother,” Enoch says gruffly, a thick British accent similar to everyone’s adorn his voice, his just sounds older - he was the oldest of course, seventeen. “Wouldn’t want to interrupt your tea party,” he says, glancing around the room as he continues collecting jars to make a new puppet, he glances at the newest member of the group of children, not sure what to think just off appearance.