Hair like early morning sunlight streams out behind her, before that same blonde hair flies forward to cover her delicate face. Then once more flying out behind her like waving banners, only to fall forward again and so on and so forth. She feels herself soaring higher, only to return back down, as is the way with gravity. Maeve loves swinging, always has. She still swings back and forth, hanging onto the super man push Roman had so kindly given her after taking her to the park today while he worked his odd jobs, mending broken things. "Like hearts?" Maeve had asked him in return. She loved the park in the southern part of town. It was quieter here, people were friendlier, the air not so full of car fumes, the sound of honking horns and people yelling. The playground was her own little sanctuary. Slides, climbing walls, swings. It was everything a child could want as the touch of the burning sun high in the heavens caresses her skin. She can feel nothing but unbridled joy in this moment.

Finally, as she leaps from the great heights of the moving swing, that pale morning light hair reaches out behind her as a child may reach for its mother as she flies through the air and lands on the ground with grace and poise, like the fairy child that she is. As Maeve lands upon the playground, blonde tassels rest along her back and a smile is on her face as pure and as innocent as any child ought to be. She then races away from the swings and slides to a halt as she stands before a ladder no doubt as high as the tallest mountain in the world, at least in her young, amethyst eyes. Fair skinned hands reach forward as her feet encased in violet colored converse join her body on the steps of the ladder as she begins to climb upwards, striving to reach the top of such a high climb for one fae child to make. Upon reaching the top, a tinkling laughter falls from her soft, supple lips as she gazes down with lavender eyes at her accomplishment at having achieved such a feat before she moves off to her next target: the slide. Flying down the plastic tub, squeals of excitement echo through the tunnel, conveying Maeve's joy. As feet touch upon solid ground once more she pulls down her pastel pink t shirt paired with a pair of surprisingly clean white shorts that had begun to ride up on the way down. A yip of joy runs the length of her smile as she begins to run.

Happiness is truly that of an eight year old, running for the sake of running.

When she finally comes to a stop, the young child exhales a smile slowly, feeling her lungs caught up with the taste of fresh air, her joints anew with youthful exercise as the glaring sun beats upon her from the sky. Maeve squints up at the ball of light, wondering how it can spread over so forcefully half the entire earth, but quickly she ceases squinting and blinks as she looks down, the brightness hurting her eyes if even for only a moment. Grinning as only a child can Maeve finds the stops up the playground, heading not for the slide as she had done before, but rather to the long pole that descended towards the ground. Never had she seen such an obstacle on a playground, having mostly been resigned to play on slides and swings, and so the fae girl is not sure what step to take next. Violet eyes watch as a young boy reaches his own hands out and slides down. Eyes watch in fascination how the boy immediately runs off, seemingly uninjured by such a daring feat. Maeve could not be outdone in such a thing and so she too runs to the pole and places her hands, one and then the other above it, before pushing her feet off the jungle gym as she slides downwards, creamy locks disrupted for only a moment before they lay against her back once more, as neatly straight as they had been.

Her face is flush with color from the energy she has been exerting on such a playground as this, but the smile does not waver from her young face, so exuberant with running around as children so need to. Violet eyes stare upwards at the greying clouds beginning to move in. No doubt rain would come, but Maeve is well aware she still has time to climb, jump, run, slide, do whatever it is to her heart's content, before the raindrops would fall. Maybe, before Roman would no doubt come to pick her up, maybe she would have an opportunity to jump around in some puddles. Maeve had always loved rain. Anything apart of nature, was close to the fae child's heart.

But there was still so much for the fair haired child to explore before her day of play would come to an end.

Next up, the monkey bars. Maeve carefully climbs upwards before reaching those tiny hands out one more as she grips the bars above her. Slowly, she makes her way across, grabbing the bar in front of her first with one hand and then reaching forward with the other so that her hands are joined with one each other once more. A smile stays on her face, util she reaches out with her fair skinned hands and the girls suddenly loses her grip and down to the ground she drops. Her knee lands on a rock hidden within the playground sand and she lets out a yelp of pain. Even her cries seemed to have this silken quality to them, perhaps it had to do with her being a child, but perhaps a fairy as well. She stares down at her knee and the wound she had inflicted as gravity had claimed the child and dragged her downwards onto the ground. Crimson liquid oozes from the wound, but the child does not cry, it was only a small wound, it would heal with time, as all her other playground injuries have done. She wipes away the blood as it grows stick yon her fingers, laying the sand with her leg now extended as pain throbbed in the area. Violet eyes shift upwards as the smallest trickle of rain begins to fall down. And Maeve, despite having found friendship within the weres of Sacrosanct, she suddenly feels so alone once more.