She sits there, wallowing in her own sorrow for her situation, tears falling down from those amethyst eyes as she tries to steady her shaking breathing that causes her shoulders to tremble and her stomach to flinch with the effort of taking even one deep breath. Her mind is cluttered with isolation, a sense of lose, and an unsureness of what to do next without any guiding hand placed upon her back to lead her. So absorbed is the fairy child within her own emotions that she is not aware of the leopard boy that watches her with deep mocha brown eyes and a curious interest. The silence around her only presses the loneliness deeper into her heart, holding the organ hostage so that every beat that pressed the crimson blood through her highway of veins causing her to feel an invisible pain and anguish.

Maeve had never been a crier, despite her less than ideal living situations, constant moving, and lack of solid attachment to any adult figures. But she had always been a more sensitive child than most, in tune to others emotions, quick to dismiss bullies towards herself occasionally and to other children on the playground. She was the type of child to seek out outcasts of the typical 'cool' crowd, wanting to comfort the ones who were downtrodden because she knew what it felt like to not belong. The type of child to never ostracize someone for being different, but to instead accept their differences without question and offer them a place beside her, so they could be themselves. Maeve too knew she was different, for fairies were especially rare when one looked outside Sacrosanct and it wasn't easy for a child to keep such a secret harbored within that heart of hers. And while she knew differences could be fearful, scary, or uncomfortable, she would try with her whole heart to not let another feel the misery that was being cast aside or labeled as an outsider, even by a little girl with oddly colored eyes.

So when the sound of an effortful voice comes to her delicately pointed ears and she turns to see a boy (she thinks) sitting a top a roof and hanging down beside him is an impossibly long tail, she jumps to a standing position and a few feet away, but she does not run and scream. She has seen children feign terror at a child with maybe too big of glasses, or a disability that the individual could not control and her heart always pained for such kids and while this man certainly looked different, and was certainly large enough to hurt a little girl such as herself, Maeve would not do him such a discourtesy as running away in fear. While she knows that he could be potential threat, the fairy girl is forever indebted to believe everyone she meets is innately good and she should only show such things back to every individual she encounters.

Small, child hands rise to her cheeks to wipe away her tears from the sobs that had wracked her body only mere seconds ago. "No, I'm sad because I am lost and alone," she says, such a simple summary of emotions, as often is the case with children. Maeve was ever honest, she saw no reason to lie to the stranger as to why she had been crying. She sniffles once more and looks up at the leopard boy, curiosity replacing the sadness that had painted over violet eyes as she sat on the curbside so certain she would be alone and lost forever. She realizes in his words that perhaps he was sad too and she takes a few steps closer towards him, desperate for the interaction and the want to cure any sadness, or even boredom this individual may be experiencing. "I'm sorry your friends love paper so much. You look like you are probably more fun than paper," she says turning her amethyst eyes up towards him with a half-hearted smile on her pale lips. The statement is true, while Maeve finds paper useful for coloring and drawing and maybe making snowflakes out of in the winter time, the dark eyed boy certainly looks as though he would be much more fun to have around, especially if he can climb on top of houses. Maeve wonders briefly if he was really good at the monkey bars when he had been her age.

His next set of words catches her off guard. Kitten? No one (but a try hard foster father at one point in her life) had called her that before. For the first time, truly, she takes in the man's appearance. The ears that sit attentively above his head, and he long, beautiful tail that curls beside him like a fluffy snake. Maeve moves her body slightly back, hesitant to remain, but desperate to live by her philosophy that no one ought to be shunned, that despite any differences (even supernatural ones) should be accepted, celebrated even, and so she moves forward once more, mind whirling at one could possibly create something such as him. "I'm a kidâ€" are you a cat?" she asks with a smile, eyes bright as the curiosity only children can harbor practically oozes from her pale skin. "My name is Maeve, what's yours?" She asks, her polite and kind nature evident in every aspect of how she speaks in those high soprano notes. And because Maeve is a child, and because she is oh so very girly and frilly, her eyes cannot help but continuously retreat to that beautiful leopard tail of his that she so desperately wishes to touch, to see what it felt like beneath her nimble fingertips. "I really like your tail, I don't have one," she says, turning her body around to show him her back, as if to prove to the were that she is being honest about her lack of that particular appendage. As she turns back around, the fairy child grows bold and takes another smaller step closer. "Can I touch it?" She asks, holding her hand out, eager for his permission before performing such an intimate act from a stranger.

Maeve has always loved animals, they were some of her favorite things to read about when she would go to the library and lose herself in books for hours on end. If her love for ballet wasn't so fierce, she thinks she would like to be a veterinarian for wild animals, like giraffes, elephants, and especially big cats. Big cats had always been her favorite, lions, panthers, tigers, leopards. They were amazing creatures and Maeve wanted to learn as much about them as she could. So as she peers closer she realizes his tail may very well belong to that of a leopard cat. But it is at this time that she realizes too what the sheet beside the man is sitting beside. Iron. She retracts her hand, ensuring that she would not touch the metal, knowing the pain it could cause her if she should have such a tangible encounter.

But the wild-eyed boy mentions 'they' and Maeve is so new here that she has no idea who 'they' could possibly be. Fearing the unknown, the fairy child grows timid and instinctively moves towards the the disheveled young man. She doesn't know him, far from it, but he was big (bigger than her at least) and more familiar than whatever possibly 'they' could be, sos he seeks refuge to be near him. She realizes though she has not answered the question he has put forth and shyly she looks to the tailed Tobi. "I was crying, I was scared," she says, her words once more simple, straight forward. "Who are they?" She asks, her voice timid, even slightly shaky, as vision of monsters, thieves, and barbarians are conjured into her mind. She moves even closer to the man as she only succeeds in making herself more afraid. "Will 'they' hurt me?" She asks in a small, high pitched voice before eyes rove over Tobi's appearance once more, entirely aware he may be capable of hurting her too. "You wont hurt me, will you?" It is a question she is afraid to ask because she is afraid of the answer, but she simultaneously continues to move closer to the man. Despite him being a stranger in a city she doesn't know, she at least could see him, even with his strange, unique appearance. In Maeve's mind, 'they,' the unknown are far scarier than the man, because she doesn't know what they are and nothing is more terrifying than not knowing what may be coming.