It is hard to say how a child will develop in this life. What parts or roles they will decide to play and how they will come to stand on their own two feet when they look out into the world to face the rest of their lives ahead of them. She could grow up to be that prima ballerina she so desired to become. She could be a scholar, Maeve has always loved to learn, her inquisitive nature often having her up late with a flashlight under her blanket as she learns about big cats and wolves. Or, maybe a writer, she enjoys telling stories, hearing stories, so maybe she could write them herself. Or, possibly even, Maeve may not grow up at all. There were far too many hunters and vampires about.

The pale child was a unique creature, but, perhaps here in Sacrosanct, so many of the humans had become adjusted to a sort by the supernaturals. They had to know, didn't they? That their city was thrumming with magic as if it had its own heart beat and network system of veins reaching to the furthest corners, from the bakery, to the west side of town, to the beach, to this very spot here. Magic was all around them. Did they know? If they knew too much about Maeve it could be dangerous. If they did know, she appreciated the secrets they kept, and if they didn't, well, she hoped they would never find out.

Violet eyes refuse to leave his face as she fixes him with a stare that says she knows that they do not know each other. They narrow slightly, continuing to look in a way so unabashed, a stare that only children can truly achieve, and Maeve appeared to be an expert. "Good," is all she says in response to his words. Sacrosanct has made Maeve stronger, even if she still is just a little girl trying to figure out this great, big world and where her place may be.

The fae child watches as the school administrator takes a moment after Maeve's words before her face splits into a friendly smile and her head bobs in acceptance. Maeve watches until she is sure she is doing her administrative work before turning her attention to Damon that hand extending out, expecting to meet his own in return. His own hand envelops hers for a moment, and she squeezes his before releasing and pulling her hand back to her own side. Her own sort of smirk tickling her lips as she stares up into his bright blue eyes with her own of amethyst.

"Pleasure," she says with that same half smirk on her face, those subtle emotions, perhaps a trick she had learned from Tetradore in all the time she had spent watching him at the Ark. As he turns to the door she begins walking, brushing past him so that she could lead the way. "I like Bhakti Chai ice cream with chocolate sprinkles and whip cream," she says easily, before turning back to look at him. "Come on, there's a place just a few blocks away on the corner," she says continuing to move. Clearly, Maeve was beginning to grow accustomed to the Sacrosanct life. The sunlight hits against her pale skin, practically illuminating the little fairy as she continues walking down the sidewalk, turning around only when Damon speaks about her power. "Is that what it is called?" She asks curiosuly. "I never knew it had a name, just one day, I figured out that if I wanted someone to do something, and I told them, that I could make them do it," she says and she stops walking for a moment, her eyes glaze over if not just for a second before turning to look up at Damon. "Even if they don't want to." She says, before turning and skipping up to the ice cream shop, the bell ringing as she opened the door, bad memories lifting off her shoulders as if they were never there in the first place. your paragraphs here

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