margaretwexley - Tumblr blog

[margaretwexley]

"you and your sisters have so many reference points, such a dense history — i never get used to it.” ( @tobiaswexley , @emberwexley )

[margaretwexley]

"really?" there's a note of questioning in her voice, trying to remember the last time her sister had taken a photo with just her. family portraits were one thing, but she hardly operated in the same realm of media that ember did. "i didn't know—" she smooths the black of her own dress, a sheath meant to blend into the background, to sit comfortably in the penthouse living rooms. it certainly wasn't festive, but it was her. "you wouldn't prefer a photo with...lewis?"

"It's it gorgeous?!" Standing next to her sister in the outfit she'd been planning for months, Ember was flush with the excitement of not only the upcoming festivities but also the photoshoot she'd just finished. Already her hired assistant was giving a thumbs up that it was doing well on social media.

"I always love this time of year. So many of my friends are coming, too! I've even managed to convince Lewis Spencer of coming. As in Lady Di's nephew. You should see him, he's such a snack. Then after Boxing day we're heading to Ibiza. Oh! We didn't get a photo op, especially since you look so... precious!"

[margaretwexley]

though she hardly knew any of the staff by name or face, it made sense that it wasn't just the two diner employees whom put everything together. her world was insular, even among the wexley residents. "oh no, thank you." the party would no doubt have its share of caffeine and alcohol, and a balance of other goods that might tip over the scales that she had so delicately worked to right. "i'm waiting for christmas to induldge." or something of the like, at least given her current feeling. "i shouldn't stay for the dinner service."

"Thank you!" Charlie beamed at Margaret, feeling very much like she was getting compliments from royalty. It felt like the only time Charlie ever got to see the youngest Wexley was at Christmas, but she'd always looked forward to it. She'd had the sense right from the start that the pair were kindred spirits. "The staff did most of it, but Rosie and I took charge of the tree. It's my favourite part of every year, getting it all set up."

Waving Margaret over, she nodded toward the diner. "Would you like something to drink? Just say the word and I'll whip it right up!"

[margaretwexley]

she was no gauge for noisiness, the world itself often seemed too loud when compared to what she was used to. and if the point of the parties weren't to be so loud they could be felt all the way on the eleventh floor, then she wasn't sure she understood them all that well. besides it was the holidays, nothing could tone down the cheer that the room was infused with.

"everyone stays on the nice list now." her attempt at a joke was paired with a little smile, the witty repartee of conversation was never a skill that had developed for her. at least she tried, before answering the question forever on people's minds. "i'm doing well." for the most part, she wasn't strong— but what little strength she had didn't fail her any more. "i was able to do some of my own christmas shopping this year," as though leaving the building was everything he needed to know to judge her health. "tiffany's allowed a private showing."

Ashton wished he had remembered there was a party, and if so stayed out at the campus much later. But here he was, standing at the atrium upon arrival home and kicking himself as he sees everyone hustling and bustling for the party later. But well, since it hasn't started, there wasn't a crowd yet so it was actually pretty peaceful. He walked up to the atrium, having a once over the decorations and the obnoxiously huge and loud tree in the center of it all, running to Margaret Wexley, a familiar but rare face to see. "I don't know, it's a bit loud don't you think?" Ashton rested his hands on his hips and tilted his head to the side, analyzing the tree in jest, "Santa probably got the memo loud and clear." For the past four years he's been here it's this same tree and perhaps new ornaments, seemingly getting only bigger and better every year.

Ashton turned to Margaret, greeting her with a small smile, "it's been awhile, how are you holding up?"

[margaretwexley]

DECEMBER 23RD, THE ATRIUM: BEFORE DINNER SERVICE

"this looks fantastic." she's had a good month, the winter season always meant that she was spending most of her time in the wexley than normal. the last of the decorations were being set up, giving her time to look before the influx of people came. just because one was feeling well didn't mean that they needed to strain themselves. still, she could admire the christmas tree for a moment.

"it's beautiful, they've really outdone themselves."

[margaretwexley]

the tension settles as a knot in her stomach, no words would change how she felt about losing the handful of pills to chance. "i...i, thank you but i really think he has control of the situation." besides, they'd been through more than enough second opinions, back and forth diagnoses, and now there was nothing. she could only rely on what they knew as of the lockdown— nothing else could be left to chance.

"you'd have to ask him to see the records." at least she could give tobias that much. the pills might have been on her dresser, but her full medical history was under constant study. she didn't have a hard copy, and there wasn't any way of pulling it off of the internet now. "my medication isn't currently up for..." although it would run out eventually, taken in smaller and smaller doses. there was something to say for expiration dates, but nothing quite yet. if now she was left with constant exhaustion, moving through ever-present fog, then it could only get worse. "what do you mean combined? this has all been approved."

something about her stuttering panic made him uncomfortable and he continued trying to dismiss her concerns, mostly for his own benefit. "breathe bambi. we'll get it sorted." how old was she? young but not that young, right? vince wondered if her illness had played a part in infantilizing her. maybe something to do with having your own brother in charge of your care.

he listened, nodding along to what he felt were non-answers. too vague. he wasn't sure if she was doing it for his benefit or if that was really all she knew about her own illnesses. vince's eyebrow raised as he watched her. munchausen's came to mind. but that wasn't a can of worms he wanted to open right now. really, the more he thought about it the more he realized it could be worth looking into. play his cards right, he could have little miss sneezy in the palm of his hand--like her brother was probably already doing. for now, maybe he'd just plant the seed of doubt. "i get that you're used to your brother being the authority on all of this, but maybe it's time for a second opinion.."

"some of these medications are pretty off the wall. especially to combine them." a hint of concern. but more than that, his voice held suspicion. surely he as the chief of diagnostics would know a thing or two about internal medicine and margaret had to respect that. "i don't mean to step on your brother's foot but.. i have my concerns. if it were ever possible i'd love to look at your records. ensure that.. he hasn't forgotten his hippocratic oath." he tapped his knuckles against the dresser. "treating family can be tricky."

[margaretwexley]

she lists off all the people who are now within the walls of the wexley as though they're going through introductions on the first day of school. more names should be familiar— more floors should be a lived reality. certainly she'd thought of it, but she'd never actually done it.

"i know mr. penrose." at least that was only the tenth floor, and there were some familiar faces on the ninth. people who could be addressed formally as they road the elevator down, though she never had gotten a grasp on small talk. "though—" she couldn't remember the last time she'd actually seen a pet of any kind around. they weren't to be found anywhere in the penthouse. a dog made her shoulders tense with unknown. "well, maybe just the diner."

"It totally is an adventure. I mean, when's the last time you stepped foot on one of the lower floors. Oh, maybe I could even introduce you to Hawthorn Penrose. You know the famous author, that would be exciting, right?"

Starting down the stairs at her sister's side, Ember practically skipped down them with an ease that only grew the longer they went without the elevators. "Plus there's Blue and his dog, you'd love Doom. Sweetest puppy. Blue is all grumpy and shit, but he's cool. You know Charlie and Rosie already, since they've been here forever... but... there's like lots of people you can meet. I bet you'd like Ashton if you met him, even if he's very like practical and sort of dead pan. Like that Sergeant guy Daddy was friends with."

Rambling on and on about their neighbors, it was clear that Ember was thriving in the atmosphere, almost soaking in the small community she'd found right under their noses. "You're gunna have so much fun, I promise."

[margaretwexley]

@rhianwells asked: 💗 for a moodboard about another significant relationship in my muse’s life

[margaretwexley]

@tobiaswexley asked: 💕  for a moodboard on my muse’s view on romantic and/or sexual relationships 

[margaretwexley]

@ashton-ryder asked: 🏠  for a moodboard about my muse’s home aesthetics

[margaretwexley]

anonymous asked: 👶 for a moodboard about my muse’s childhood

[margaretwexley]

she can't recall seeing a weapon brandished in her brother's hands, there's never been a reason for one to exist within the prism of her experience. certainly he was meant to hold scalpels and scissors, their own kind of damage, but this? his words attempt to soothe but the panic is hardly erased from her face at the new vision.

"i don't." she can't doubt him, if she even tries then the world in front of her vanishes. there's nothing here for her that her brother hasn't built himself, assigned words and defined as he can. but even a world such as that has limits, as they're both finding. all she can do is repeat herself, try and find the worst case scenario in the implicated violence. "what's happening."

There's no reason to encourage his sister's stress. It's for him to absorb, to shield her from; it always has been his job to protect her. No one else will. No one else can. There's also no point in pretending that their father's tranquilizer gun is not in his hands, that he hadn't just minutes ago taken it out of the locked cabinet in case of emergency.

"Worst case scenario," he explains in the shortest amount of words possible, but always more than enough for their bond to read into, to understand that the severity is prepared for. Didn't he promise her long ago that he would protect her? The sentiment is a flash in his eyes, a beat before his voice is heard again. "Now isn't the time to start doubting me."

[margaretwexley]

her eyes widened at the question, another scenario that hadn't been built into her castle upon the hill. she assumed the generators would forever run so long as they had to, the fail safe to the end. but who was she to predict the possible now, to assume that there was some certainty in what would happen next.

"i —" no comment almost makes its way to her lips, the kind of answer that she'd been coached to give time and time again on her opinions about things she could not explain. she could only discuss art and the weather, zombies were out of the question on most every occasion. "i'm glad i wasn't there."

"Ah." Nat stuck her hands in her pockets as she walked alongside the woman. "I thought those things were for filtering out toxins or pollutants or whatever." It was crazy, really, how far technology had come. "Do you think you'd get fucked up if the building lost power?" She asked. Okay, maybe now she was pushing the limits of Margaret's goodwill. It was her reflex, really, to be an asshole. She shot her a grin just in case.

What was Nat hoping to find in the penthouse? Dirt on the Wexleys, maybe, or some evidence on what Tobias was doing to her. Honestly, at the end of the day, though, she was just fucking bored. "How are you feeling about all the diner stuff?" She asked. "You know, about people zombifying each other and all that."

[margaretwexley]

the mhmm hums on her lips, the barest of sounds to be made as she follows the lead of her far more confident half. there's little she wouldn't do if ember asked it of her, the relief is only in being able to finally acquiesce without compromise. especially if no one saw, if they couldn't know that she'd gone anywhere at all. the steps are easy enough to manage, motion stretching her lungs from their usual ache and stiffness.

"some adventure, right?" self-depreciation always seemed to suit compared to ember's confidence, as though if she had just the right demeanor she wouldn't step on her sisters toes quite so often. "suppose we won't be running into anyone quite so famous this time around."

"yeah, fine, no roof. We'll just like take the stairs real slow and see how far we get. Daddy always said 'baby steps are progress' and you know... that counts." Maybe it was the change in situation, maybe it was that now all they had was each other, but Ember couldn't stand to see her sister locked up a tower when the world was ending around them. The scope of exploration had collapsed in on itself leaving behind just The Wexley, and she'd be damned if Margaret wouldn't get to explore even just that.

Reaching down to take her sister's hand, Ember lead her out of her room, sneaking through the penthouse in an attempt not to draw attention of Toby or his ever loyal henchman of a butler. Holding a finger to her lips as they tip toed through the space, the playful excitement of it all had her nearly in giggles by the time they were on the service stairs.

"Remember, down is always easier than up. Look at you, going on a big adventure with your big sister. I'm proud of you already, Mags."

[margaretwexley]

his explanation offers her little comfort, she can feel her nerves on fire trying to figure out which bottle was slightly out of place, how she could explain the missing dosage without being told it had been her all along. she'd been so good. "those aren't for sampling—" her breathing hadn't calmed, her mind hardly caught the edges of his joke as it tried to make sense of how she could be believed. "i need those, i h—have a schedule."

the only thing that righted the anxiety was the known, the explanations that could make him understand how delicate the situation was. "i have an autoimmune disorder." which? one might ask, only to receive no answer in sensible terms. they had still been in the process of diagnosing, the records sealed away on systems she could no longer reach. "asthma, allergies...really it was all too complex, a list too exhaustive to keep in check. but she was speaking with a doctor, one who potentially knew the terms better than she did after all these years. "i have to keep everything. to be safe."

Uh-oh. Make a wish kid was not happy with his candy sampling. Vince tried to conjure an empathetic expression but it just wasn't coming out. The best he could do was neutral. "Take a breath Bambi. Your friends brought in a whole crate of medical supplies from the crash." Not that he could guarantee any of it was what she needed. But if she didn't run out now, it would happen eventually. Maybe she needed to start weaning off this shit anyway.

"I'll write you a refill." He tried to lighten the mood with a joke.

He thought about turning and making his exit but decided to indulge his curiosity a little. "So what's your diagnosis? More than one I'm guessing, considering the pharmacy you have going." Yeah, sure, her brother was on his way to being a world class surgeon--but what the hell did surgeons really know about medicine?

[margaretwexley]

@tobiaswexley

"what's going on?" she's learned to measure her emotion by toby's. if he is unhappy, there is something that she's done wrong. if he is disinterested, then there is nothing to be done. but this is something new, the panic settling into her expression while she tries to make sense of the situation that's still not fully emerged for her. "please, please you have to know something."

[margaretwexley]

she was frozen, watching him go through everything on her dresser, trying to understand all the information that was being shared with her now. some people could be immune? certainly not her, certainly nothing could tell her right now, and there was no chance that she was going anywhere that it could find her— not since they had returned with so little victory.

"you're the chief of wait—" all the right words sound in her head, until she watched the pills spill out into her guest's hand and disappear. "please, you can't do that," her heart rate picked up, the sudden inhale of breath that catches in her chest and pinks her face. "you have to tell— you can't just take those." how many were missing from the bottle? how many had there been before? she was careful with her numbers, promised that she'd take her medication for the entire time tobias was gone under ember's eye. goodwill flushed down the drain all in one careless gesture. "which one did you take?"

He supposed someone might as well break the news to her. Vince kept his back to her as he looked more closely through the pill bottles, deciding she probably had enough to share. "Well, since my chopper crashed a lot of the info we needed to get to the CDC didn't end up making it there. Who knows what they'll do without it. They sure as shit won't be coming back for it any time soon." Vince pictured her face and imagined she looked like he'd just told her Bambi's mom was shot.

He grabbed a bottle of something he thought she could live without and turned to her, shaking it. "Good news is I'm alive, and I can tell all you lovely people that there's a chance you're immune." The sarcasm was practically dripping from his words. But he wasn't lying. Not about this part. "There's just no way of knowing. I mean, unless you get bit and end up not trying to eat everyone. But no one seems really keen on testing that." Vince unscrewed the bottle and popped a handful in his mouth before returning it to the dresser. He'd probably be back for it later. "I was chief of diagnostics." Hence the CDC deciding he was important enough to get out of the city.