When Imogen woke up the next morning, her head felt heavy as her eyes groggily opened to realize that she had forgotten to draw the blinds to her attic room. It was barren, save for the two beds shoved towards the slanting end of the roof. Her bag stayed unpacked, simply ransacked at the foot of her bed. The only thing Imogen had properly placed out was her canvas propped on its stand, and a table next to it for her paints, brushes, charcoal and colors. She had intentionally placed her block and easel where the sun shone directly upon it, and as the morning light streamed in the open window,the girl gave a feeble smile to see the spot she had chosen had enough sunlight.
Drawing gave her an escape she never found from anywhere else, and she usually started and ended her day with it back at Miss Avocet's house, where there was little else she could do. The ymbryne's in training did the menial tasks as part of their lessons, so the few ward's Miss Avocet kept was simply because she couldn't bear to part with them.
Yet now, Imogen found herself alone, away from friend's she's literally grew up with. But perhaps what was most foreign to her, was to hear laughter of children as they clatter around downstairs. Was this why Miss Avocet sent her here? So she could now grow up among those of her age?
"Miss De Vere, we're all waiting for you for breakfast!" Miss Peregrine's voice floated up, and in that instance, Imogen jumped out of her bed, her inborn nature to dislike keeping people waiting. Splashing water to her face and deftly running her fingers throw her dark hair, Imogen threw on her dress (she never got used to the twentieth century fashion of pants), and hurried down the staircase to where her new housemates sat as they did at dinner the night before, except this time plates of steaming oats, sausages, baked beans and eggs sat arrayed on the table. "You'll be joining us for lessons before noon, Miss De Vere. And then after lunch, it's usually time for the children to play."
"What lessons?" Imogen asked as they all begin to tuck in, and in between bites of food, the peculiar children took turns answering her. "It depends on what Miss Peregrine wants to teach us for the day, really. Mostly, she works on deportment, language and manners." Hugh started, shovelling his eggs down at an alarming manner, even despite Fiona's wide eyed stare at him. Jacob laughed and swallowed his sausages before continuing "She will teach us math on Wednesdays and Fridays, and she takes turns with sciences on Tuesdays. Language she leaves to Horace, and history she lets Millard deal with. They discuss it between them to take turns every Monday."
"And today is...?"
"It's Thursday, which also means we've got to practice our writing and French, and she dabbles a little into Polish before we go for lunch." Millard finish up, and Imogen could almost hear a grin in his voice as he popped his last bit of french toast in his mouth. The girl watched, fascinated as the piece of bread disappeared as if in thin air, and couldn't help but giggle, amused by the way the neckcloth he wore bobbed with his chewing. "What's so funny?"
Imogen blushed when Hugh asked, as if embarrassed that she got caught. "I think she's still getting used to Millard being invisible. Millard, would you please put on some clothes?" Emma admonished, and it was only then that Imogen noticed she had been seated next to only a floating neckcloth. The idea that a naked teen sat next to her had a more serious flush flooding Imogen's cheeks, to which Emma scowled at the space that was supposed to be Millard. "Miss Peregrine, Milla-"
"Go and dress, Mister Nullings. We have a guest!"
"Tattle." Millard hissed at Emma, and whined "But Miss Peregrine, Imogen technically isn't a guest is she?"
"It is impolite to be undressed in front of ladies, no matter guest or not. Have some decency Mister Nullings!"
Imogen heard a huff, before his chair scraped backwards and she heard more then saw Millard stalk upstairs, much to Miss Peregrine's satisfaction and the other children's partial amusement. "Millard likes to balk against Miss Peregrine sometimes." Jacob mused, as he caught Imogen's curious look. "Why?" she asked in return.
"Well, we all have our ambitions. And even with our peculiarities, it's not difficult. Even Olive said she'd like to help with architecture in the future. But Millard... it's harder for him."
"He'll make a splendid teacher." Horace picked up, glancing at where Millard had went up, and back at Imogen. "We all enjoy his History lessons, even Enoch, even if he won't admit it." The immaculately dressed fifteen year old jerked his head at a sullen looking thirteen year old Enoch, who scowled and picked up his plate to wash. "But problem is, it'd be difficult for regular society to accept a teacher you can't see, isn't it?"
At that, Imogen suddenly felt like she understood, yet couldn't fully grasp the problem Millard faced. She knew what it felt like to be ostracized by your own family, but at the very least she had her father with her. Millard wasn't ostracized, and in fact she got the feeling that he was very at home both with his housemates, and with his peculiarity... but how could he ever make it out there?
The children squealed as lessons were over, dashing out of their rooms to quickly shovel lunch down their throats before taking themselves outside to enjoy the rest of the day. Imogen followed at a more stately pace, a little fascinated still at the lessons she just had. Lessons at Miss Avocet were largely for training ymbryne's, so not only did she struggle to write, she stumbled over French as well. She had had half a mind to give up, growing increasingly frustrated with nouns and synonyms of the French language, when a surprising invisible ally had plonked himself next to her, and in a few minutes those foreign words began to make sense.
It was then, that Imogen saw the full truth in Horace's words, that Millard would indeed make a wonderful teacher. He made things simple, chunked information down, and was patient beyond words.
As she stepped out in the garden and the others fell into prearranged games, Imogen found her eyes drifting over to where a floating notebook was open under a tree, and the girl subconsciously started towards the invisible boy, speaking up as she drew nearer. "Mind if I take a seat?"
"Oh, sure. Are you sure you don't want to join them though? I think Emma wants to plan for a 'Raid the Village' game tomorrow, upgraded version of course."
"What do you mean by upgraded?"
"Well, we used to play Raid the Village because the village won't remember how we raided them once the loop rest, but since we're no longer in a loop we can't technically do that."
"You guys raided people?" Imogen asked in horror, and it must have showed on her face because she heard Millard chuckle, closing his notebook before she assumed he looked at her. "What did you guys use to play in Miss Avocet's place then?"
"Well..." she paused, thinking as she shifted against the tree trunk they both leaned on. "Sometimes the twins would manipulate the weather for us to wind surf, or Brynno would entertain the younger ones by juggling us around, otherwise we played regular games. Miss Avocet never let us out of the loop, because she had too many ymbryne's in training to care for."
"True enough. You'll enjoy the game though. We've been playing it for years, so we didn't want to let it go."
"I think years is an understatement, isn't it?" she laughed, and Millard joined in her laughter, speaking after abit. "True. But considering I'm only twenty, it doesn't feel that long ago. I guess that's what the loop does to us?" he paused, and asked as if curiosity got the better of him. "What about you? How long were you in the loop?"
"I'm... I think I'm about eighteen now. I was born in the 1800's, and considering it's... what, 2016 now? I lost count after two hundred." she laughed, stretching her legs out in front of her. The balmy Highland wind that breezed across the garden area of their house was soothing, and especially with a full belly, for the first time, Imogen felt a sense of relaxation come across her.
"Whoah, you're old."
"Hey, watch it. Technically, I'm still younger then you are, because of the loop." Millard laughed at the aghast face that Imogen made, yet couldn't help the warmth he felt when he saw the smile she wore. Could he make her smile wore? Her laughter was electric, which made him wonder why did she look so terrified the first day she came here. He asked her despite knowing he may clam up, and instantly regretted it when he saw her smile dissapear instantly.
"I'm sorry, you do-"
"No, I know it's just curiousity. I... The time when I was born, image was a very important thing. I was... peculiar, for lack of a better word. So of course, no one accepted me for who I am. My own mother and siblings ostracized me. Only my father understood me, and he was the one who seeked far and wide for Miss Avocet so he could put me under her care."
"But how did he know?"
"From what Miss Avocet told me, apparently my Great Grandmother was a syndrigast too, but she was under the care of a Miss Falcon. Great Grandmother Chastity told stories to Father, who naturally understood when he saw me drawing a honey cake and then eating it."
"You what?" Millard muffled a laugh despite himself, but was relieved when she smiled at his reaction. "I was hungry, I was five, it was past midnight and I had a canvas. I knew what I could do, why not?"
"Well, if I said I'd like to eat a corndog now, could you do that?"
"With ease!" she piped up happily, snatching his notebook and pencil from him. Within minutes, Imogen had sketched a picture of a delicious looking corndog, and traced the picture as she did the night before, before pulling out a piping hot corndog. Millard whooped in delight, attracting the attention of their friends, who squealed when they realized the extent of what Imogen's peculiarity gave them.
"I want soda!"
"Teriyaki chicken wings!"
"Sushi!" Claire squealed loudly. Apparently the vast variety available in the 21st century had given the syndrigasti children an exotic palette. She tried her best to accommodate to all of their requests, which eventually ended up with them all having a picnic in the garden. The kids sprawled across the lawn, snacking and munching on the most outrageous things. It wasn't till Imogen was pulling out the fifth chocolate cake Enoch had requested, when Millard noticed her paling despite the harsh sunset light, and realized as he glanced across their buffet spread, just how long she had been using her powers.
She swayed a little where she sat, and Millard reacted quickly, catching her from the small of her back and thanked little blessings again, that he was invisible. See, his peculiarity was great when used properly!
Imogen startled again, albeit weakly this time, which made Millard smile as he held her shoulder and shifted so she could lean against his side. "You're easily scared aren't you?" he asked, giving her a smile she couldn't see. Imogen scowled, almost hiding the weariness in her green eyes. "You try getting shocked by someone invisible."
Millard laughed, but took his notebook from her and closed it. "That's enough for the day. You've ruined dinner, and Miss Peregrine would probably rant all night. And you're going to make us twice the size we are within a fortnight. Rest."
"But the kids wanted dessert?"
"They'll get pudding later. Wyn probably made us some already. Rest, little bunny" It didn't take much prodding, for the moment Millard pulled her to rest her head on his shoulders, she was out like a light despite a whispered questioned of "Bunny?", her energy sapped by the amount of strength she's had to use to conjure up all their whims and fancies.
But while Millard may be invisible, his donned shorts and shirt meant all could see him. Luckily for him, not many noticed except for his closest friends, and Emma smirked as Horace nudged at Millard. "Watch it, she's only been here for two days and you're half gone. I'm betting a month before you're well and truly sodded."
"A month? I give it 2 weeks." Emma grinned like a scamp, and even Jacob laughed as he nodded. "You're too generous Emma, a week tops." Hugh added, laughing when Millard made no reply. He flushed, hidden from his invisibility and chose instead to retort hotly. "I would've done the same for any of you!"
"I never saw you picking me up when I was hurt."
"That's cause Jacob would've quartered me."
"You've gotta admit, that's true." Enoch responded dryly, and Emma scowled whilst Jacob blushed, and everyone else laughed. The easy air was what they had missed the most throughout the whole time they had been on the run from hollowgasts and wights. Revelling in the camaraderie and easygoing aura, Millard leaned back as they dropped the subject and continued arguing over last morsels and what to prepare for pudding (for none of them could fit dinner in any longer). His eyes roamed his friends, before they finally fell upon the dark head slumbering on his shoulder, and for once, Millard smiled to himself, feeling a warm feeling encase his chest. Life was good. Well and good.