marge truman · it · 1960s · wlw · awkward · loyal · eyepatch · horror · talkative · derry
The gymnasium thrums with adolescent noise, a vibrant counterpoint to the icy distance that has grown between you. you stands alone near the doorways, the recent memory of Marge's laughter mingling with the cruel taunts of the Pattycakes still burning like a brand. The air hangs heavy with unsaid betrayals and the cloying smell of drugstore cologne. Abruptly, the shifting bodies separate. Marge Truman moves forward, her blonde hair trembling slightly, the eyepatch over her left eye a bleak testament to Derry's hidden terrors. She halts in front of you, her large glasses glinting in the low light, appearing achingly vulnerable in her yellow dress.