Gruff baritones meet the fairy child's ears. Unlike Tobi, Maeve, still in the throes of her own childhood, has remembered nearly every part of it, except perhaps those moments as an infant or as a toddler. She wishes that she could peer through time, for Maeve has not been in the foster care system for her entire life, just he majority. She had first arrived when she had been only two years old. It had been a cold day in February, her birthday actually. Well, Maeve had decided to make it her birthday, since she had no clue when hers actually way. The snow came whipping down from the sky with a wild ferocity. It was a snowstorm, accompanied by lightning and thunder, a rarity, but all the same, Maeve had been caught in the very throes of it. She had screamed and cried and banged her fists on the door of a home until an elderly couple finally let her in. She doesn't remember the rest of the memory, only the bruised hands of having knocked for so long and so hard, and a soar throat from screaming until she had no voice left to give. Maeve was told the elderly family asked her about her parents and the fae had given them no response on the subject. They had been forced to call the police and tell them of the found child. The police had questioned her, but the toddler had been unwilling to give answers, and when she did speak it was mumbled and composed of half words and incomplete sentences. In the end, they had called child services, and so Maeve's life as a foster child, and for all purposes, an orphan, began.

And such a lonely life it was for one so small.

She listens to his words, trying to piece together the string of half sentences, statements that Maeve assumes he wishes not to elaborate on, she assumes it to be the same reason as herself, perhaps he could not remembers, she knows the further back you go the fuzzier it becomes, she can only imagine what it must be like for someone nearly three times her age. His mother ha perhaps left him behind, the same as Maeve, of course, she had found her mother later on in her life, rather she found Maeve. He had mentioned Tetra before and Maeve wonders who he may be, but it seemed Tobi had only found a family to be left again, and put with another. The fae child understands the constant change of homes and caretakers all too well and her compassionate heart goes out to the boy with the shaggy, colorless locks. And how wonderful that they should find each other. It was just as Tobi said, they were not alone. Her eyes shine sweetly towards the were man. "Well I am glad you found me, Tobi," she says with those soft soprano lyrics of hers.

Tobi with his depthless earthen eyes and that grin that sneaks onto his face with the cunning and trickery of fox, Maeve has decided that here and now she likes him. Likes the way his laugh snakes through his teeth like a wild hiss, and the way he has joined her on this day instead of distancing her away from him like so many have to the strange, creamy haired fae child. Her laughter is like the melody to a sweet song, with no lyrics, just tone and pitch, and beauty as it arches across her lips, rising and falling in all the right places. The child so sad just a moment ago, now seemed entirely different. Children, ever resilient against the hardships of life.

Having a tail seemed like great fun. She wonders what tricks maybe he can do with his tail. Maeve had seen monkeys able to hang from their tail, or use it to grab food as if it were another appendage, and such a thing had always drawn the girl's attention. His tail reminds the girl of leopard and so she digs into the recesses of her own mind and tries to remember what such a tail on such a creature was used for. Probably for balance, maybe in a tree, or when they were running on the ground after prey.

A horse, that makes people dead, the pale child shudders at the thought, that would be terrifying. She hears the young man's advice about not getting too close and Maeve offers him a firm nod, she would stay far away from the horse. That was for certain. Of course, the child is entirely unaware that Tobi means a WereHorse and that at any time, the horse could look like a man. Though the child does not even consider to ponder on this thought, sainted making a mental note to avoid anything with hooves.

His lanky form, yet it is clear there are muscles chiseled within his agile frame, moves from the rooftop to stand at Maeve's level. Though, that may be a strange way of putting it, since the were still towers over the small fairy. She stares up at him with those satellite dish eyes painted with lavender as she thinks the strange boy almost beautiful, with shaggy hair and dark eyes. When she runs her small hands over his tail, Maeve feels giddy excitement rushing through her entire body. After all, how often does a small child have such the opportunity to pet the tail of leopard? Even if when you followed the tip of the tail it led to that of a boy and not cat (right now that is) Maeve was more than content to have the experience none the less. That charming girlish smile fluttering across her gentle, little face, she almost seems to dance excitedly in place, her small body seemingly too tiny to hold such joy. "It's perfect," she says looking up towards the boy's face.

Watching his brown eyes with her own of amethyst, she takes note of the pleasure on his face with her ready agreement to join him to see the people that could 'make her dead.' Her heart only further flutters as he insists that he will protect the small, pretty faced, fae child, those eyes dancing with a sort of eagerness. She moves ever closer to him, trusting the man without any doubt in her mind, knowing she ought to stay close incase his promise of protecting her needed to be fulfilled. She follows Tobi silently, keeping up with his far longer stride, her steps quick but placid. It is only when the were stops that Maeve ceases her movements, staring up at him for their next step in this spontaneous plan of his. He then holds out her hand, confused for only a split second before his next words clear her clouded mind. Being eight years old, Maeve had not needed to hold someone's hand to cross the street for nearly two years now and she had certainly never gotten lost crossing the street, but regardless, she eagerly grabs a hold of his hand with her butterfly touches. No cars come their way, but judging by Tobi's general demeanor, Maeve did not think it wise to let go of his hand until he decided it was time to do so.

He next tells her to be quiet, something that the fae child happened to be very, very good at, having snuck out of many a foster home in the dad of night. He crouches down, urging Maeve on, and the child follows not nearly having to duck as much as Tobi, due to her rather small stature. She peeks down at the rather large gathering. Her eyes widen, and her mouth parts in a hushed whisper. "Who are they? Why would they hurt me?" She asks, looking to Tobi, but no with fear, but in awe, of his bravery and her own.