She is sleeping peacefully within the large queen sized bed. This hotel had been her home for nearly a week now, and Maeve was beginning to hear the whispered sounds of a child staying on the property, but the staff had yet to see the child with any parents. Maeve had managed to persuade most of the staff not to question her solitude, but there were so many employees that it was only possible to persuade so many at any one time. It would seem her time in this particular establishment was coming to an end. She refused to be discovered and be dragged back to the foster system when she had come all this way.

Her amethyst eyes are hidden beauty fair skinned eyelids and long, dark, feminine lashes. Suddenly she rustles awake from a dream and the young girl sits up in the bed that is rather large for her small, petite frame. She blinks those oddly colored eyes in the dim room, lit only by the small amount of light that was able to stream in through the window and the bathroom light that was left on by Maeve as a makeshift night light. The fairy child blinks the sleep from her eyes and rouses from the bed burdened with blankets. While she lacks ownership of a hairbrush, Maeve was sure to have a toothbrush and toothpaste with her. She walks near silently over to the bathroom and peers at her reflection over the sink. Standing on her tiptoes she reaches for the faucet and lets the water begin running, dipping her toothbrush under it before applying toothpaste and carefully brushing her teeth, a mixture of her adult sized teeth and the tiny bay teeth that still rest beside it, refusing to exit her mouth no matter how how often she checked to see if any were wriggly. Although, when she losses a tooth she knows no tooth fairy will come to rest dollar bills underneath her pillow.

She remembers her foster siblings talking about the tooth fairy. How a small fairy would come when they would lose a baby tooth if they stuck it under their pillow and leave behind a few dollars to reimburse. Despite the fun of such an aspect, Maeve had instantly been spectacle when she was told about the tooth fairy by her foster sister Josie as Maeve held her baby tooth in her tiny, pale palm. Maeve, at this point in her life, had already met her mother, learned of the fact that Maeve was not human, but instead a fairy, and for all intensive purposes, the same species as this tooth fairy the other children were talking about. They described her as tiny, with magical wings, a tooth shaped wand, and a purse to carry the teeth she collected. Maeve, while small, was not minuscule, she had no wings (though her mother did), and Maeve certainly wouldn't know how to use a wand, let along own one. It all sounded far fetched to the child. The blonde fae girl stated her opposition in such beliefs, only to be met with gasps and wide eyed stares and Maeve had taken her tooth, clutched in her tiny hand she went over to a tree in the backyard, at the time her favorite tree in the entire world (despite the broken tire swing, the vicious raccoon that would growl if you climbed too high, and the occasional ants that swarmed the bark) and buried her tooth underneath it. Of course, she knew if she had put it under her pillow her foster mother or one of the older children would have humored her and placed a few dollars under her pillow in exchange for the tooth. But Maeve, who has changed homes so many times, who had never had a growth chart on a doorway due to never staying in one place, nor has she ever put her handprints in wet cement, or had a frame with her picture residing in it up on a wall, she has never had a permanent piece of her in any of the homes she has lived in. And now, whether anyone knew it or not, a piece of her would always remain under this glorious oak tree, forever and ever, long after she found herself in other homes. And to Maeve, that was better than any dollars to spend on silly trinkets.

Maeve runs her fingers through her hair to rid herself of some of the knots and uneven strands before she decides it will be as good as it gets with no brush to make it look nice. The weather look as though it will be warm, and so Maeve throws on a baby doll white tank top and a loose fitting pair of olive green pants, her hair hanging loosely over her shoulder and her back as violet eyes stand stark against her pale, fair skinned face. It seemed as if her time has come to an end in this particular hotel and so she grabs the Moana backpack that was situated on the desk and pushes both her arms through the straps, never forgetting the irony of wearing a backpack with a character from a Disney movie that she has never seen. She only knows Moana has a pet pig and that she loves the ocean. Maeve has never seen a pig in real life and she has never seen the ocean except on TV and in photographs. And to boot, the tanned Moana looks nothing like the pale Maeve. The irony of it all is not lost on the eight year old.

Outside was beautiful, the sun had risen higher in the sky indicating early afternoon. The gentle breeze brought a waft the bakery down the street, filled with fresh bread and pastries and it made Maeve's stomach churn in hunger. She followed the smell of the food around the corner, but is stopped by something green wriggling on the ground. A five dollar bill lays at her feet. Quickly Maeve looks around to see if anyone was attempting to come back and retrieve it, but everyone continues milling about and so the fairy child stoops down and picks it up as if it were a precious diamond. Maeve has very little concept about moneybag she thinks this maybe enough money to perhaps buy a treat from the bakery. She steps through the doors and is greeted by a brilliant odor of delicious food. She strolls over to the counter, only to be welcomed by a friendly face asking what she could get the young girl today. "Can I have a chocolate croissant, please?" She asks, handing the five dollars overs and waiting to receive change (a whole 1.42). She exits the store and finds a small table outside in which to eat her treat.

Across the way and down the street, violet eyes spot an interesting looking building, she reaches into her mind to pull out the word of such an establishment that she has never been to when it comes to her. A bar. She finishes eating her chocolate treat before wiping her mouth with a napkin and beginning to move towards the place called Red On Water. Maeve thinks how she has never been inside a bar before, and of course it is with good reason, the fairy child being far under age when it comes to drinking, but she merely views it as a new sort of adventure.

She moves through the doors, it is still early and so there is no bouncer at the door to check IDs. There are a few people milling about inside the bar, (and a few who cast her strange glances), but for the most part, it is rather vacant. She sees the out bar table and climbs up onto a bar stool. Still a little too short to simply lift herself up and sit down, Maeve must crawl onto the stool, Maoana backpack wobbling around as she does so, and then turn herself around to face the bartender, who, to say the least, is a little shocked to see an eight year old child sitting before him as if she were just any other adult woman coming into the bar to enjoy a mid afternoon drink.

"May I have the dark red colored drink, please?" She asks politely asks, she had seen one of her foster mothers drink the dark red substance, telling the children how it was an adult beverage. The bartender looks hesitantly at the little girl. "Umm, I think you are a few years too early to be drinkingâ€"or even be in this bar," he adds with a second thought as Maeve stares up at him with bright amethyst eyes. She focuses her attention onto the man, he would do what she wanted him to, even if it wasn't exactly what he wanted. "I think I am just the right age for such a drink, what do you think?" She asks innocently before the man nods and reaches for a stemmed wine glass and turning to the many wine bottles. "What were you thinking, we have quite the wine selection," he says. Maeve grows confused, she thought she had told him what she wanted. "The red kind," she repeats, clearly not understanding how wine works. The man, realizing this, pours her a glass of pinot noir and slides it to the fairy child. Maeve then raises the glass to her pale lips and tips it downwards as the ruby red substance slithers into her mouth. Immediately, the violet eyed child recoils with a look of disgust upon her face. "That is so gross," she exclaims, smacking her mouth open and close attempting to rid it of the putrid flavor. She puts the glass down and slides it to the bartender, clearly finished with the bitter liquid. "Can I just have a Shirley temple pleaseâ€"with two cherries?" She adds with a pleading face. The man, certainly happy to be serving the girl an age appropriate drink rather than one that could get him fired, gives her a kind smile before he tells her coming right up. The bartender then hands the fairy child the orangish red drink, ice cold and she pulls the cherries from the drink and slides one in between her teeth before pulling it from the swizzle stick. Now this was a easy drink, she thinks to herself, entirely baffled why anyone would enjoy such strange adult beverages. So Maeve continues enjoying her cold drink on the warm day as she swivels in her bar stool, blissfully unaware of the world continuing on the outside.