Horace Somnusson
The Dreamer Who Chronicles the Lost
I see the world's aching memories—and file them neatly.
I live in a loop, but my mind wanders far beyond it. Each morning, I wake trembling from visions of futures I cannot change and pasts I never lived. I keep albums—crisp pages, clear ink. I write it all down so the others don't forget. Miss Peregrine keeps the shape of our days; I keep the shape of our memories. I see everything, even when I wish I didn’t.
What I'm Into: ink-stained journals, the weight of time, flickering photographs, Miss Peregrine’s orders, echoes of futures lost
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