The pale child with hair of early morning sunlight hates this, she hates it. She remembers running away from one of her foster homes during a storm. It had been before she had discovered her powers of persuasion. Her foster parents had taken the children mini golfing. They were about halfway through the game when Maeve had seen those clouds gathering, when she knew what was coming for them, for her. She had been so tiny then, begging and pleading to take her home before it would start to thunder. They simply shoved her off the side, stating they would not be leaving. And then the rain came, and the lighting, and the booming. Maeve was running before she even knew what was happening, orange golf club still in hand. She didn't stop running and crying until the sun finally peeked through the clouds and a police car pulled up beside her, ready to take her back home.
She has no idea that on the other side of the little cupboard she is in that there is another performing in much the same as she. Perhaps, had Maeve known this, it would have provided the little girl with some sort of comfort. To know that someone was as scared as she when it came to thunderstorms that echoed around the land like the roar of a lion. But, Maeve was too frightened to hardly notice anyone around the area aside from herself, her terror making her blind.
How surprised is Maeve to find those violet eyes lighting upon the woman that had emerged from her own hiding place on her hands and her knees. She hardly catches the words that were about to come from the girl's mouth. The little blonde had certainly heard worse words coming from the mouth of Mira when she thought the girl was neither around nor listening. "Hello," she repeats in response to the woman's greeting. Strange to meet this way it certainly was. Maeve looks at the woman sitting back on her rear with a curious smile growing on her face, the thunderstorm she had just endured momentarily forgotten it would seem at the prospect of meeting someone new. Those strange violet eyes watching the woman with wide eyed innocence. "Carolina," she says the woman's own name, forming the shape of it on her lips. "That's a pretty name," she acknowledges then. But her question brings a flush of pink to her cheeks, the nine year old girl embarrassed by what had just occurred. "Umm," she stammers, twisting her fingers together in shame. "I was hiding from the storm, I am scared of the thunder...it's justâ€"too loud," she admits, peering at the woman through long, dark lashes. "I came over to look for Tobi to play a game maybe," she offers, referencing to the leopard boy that Maeve has come to both adore and enjoy. "But then there was the thunder and the storm and I didn't know what to do, so I hid in the cupboard," she says, clearly flustered by her own behavior. "Am I in trouble?" She asks the woman, worried for the answer that may appear from her own mouth.
But, this is when the little fae child studies Carolina carefully, sitting on the floor, at the same level as Maeve when usually adults towered over the abnormally small child with those pointed ears. "Why are you sitting on the floor?" She questions, tilting that pretty little head of hers to the side, letting those blonde tresses move sideways behind her. "Did you drop something? Do you need me to help you find it?" your paragraphs here Your paragraphs here! |