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━━━━━━ •° ✿ฺ✿ฺ °• ━━━━━━ CHAPTER iii: ❛ THE MOODY BLUES ❜
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MARGUERITE BLUMENTHAL LIKES TO THINK THAT THERE EXISTS NO LIVING CREATURE on the face of the planet so terrible that she could not find it in herself to love them. She has always had a fondness for unloved things — creatures like pigeons and snakes, spiders and rats — that people would rather trample underfoot than live and let live. Once, she wrote a strongly worded letter to the headmaster on behalf of the animals being used as test subjects for magical experimentation in their classes ... but that's a story for another time. The point is this: it is her life philosophy that all living things ( magical or otherwise ) are deserving of respect and decency.
That being said: she has no bloody clue what to make of the blast-ended skrewts.
"They're repulsive," Primrose drawls from her seat across the worn wooden table at the back of the library. Her textbooks had been discarded ages ago ( much to the disapproval of Violet ) in favor of a glossy copy of the newest edition of Witch Weekly, where a pretty pink-haired witch is winking at Marguerite from the cover. "I haven't seen something so disgusting since Aster tried to convince Mum and Dad to let him keep a giant dung beetle as a pet."
