they're not important anymore

OPEN - outfit

So there were various ways to look at the current situation. One of them was the most obvious way; mum had told her she could go out on a picnic with Mason but to not climb any trees without her there because she could get hurt. Mason, the twerp, had dared her to climb to the top of a particularly high tree and wouldn't shut up when she told him that mum had said no. The two options were either punching her brother -which meant that Mason would go running back to mum like a crybaby, so she would get in trouble, or climbing the damn tree and making him shut up by showing him up. So she'd gone, gotten to the top, and shouted down at Mason that he could shut up now because he was an idiot. Easy peasy, right? Wrong. So, okay, her depth perception wasn't all that perfect when she was climbing down and she missed a branch and she fell. Scraped her knee and she couldn't use magic outside school and she didn't know any healing spells anyway and he knee was bleeding and she was covered in dirt. There was no way mum wouldn't see right through her and know Maeve had climbed a tree anyway. The simplistic view of the situation was; she was screwed.

There was, of course, another way of looking at things. Just because she wasn't a Slytherin didn't mean that she couldn't think like one on occasion. Her mum was one, after all, and she'd been raised by her alone. Mostly. As she sat down at the picnic blanket again, therefore, she started to think about all the other ways in which she could look at this. The largest hint was Mason's mysterious disappearance. As soon as she fell, he took off to hide somewhere. Looking around, she couldn't spot where he was hiding. Still thinking, she grabbed one of the biscuits and started to chew on it, sitting Indian style and poking absentmindedly at her bleeding knee. The other was of looking at this was that- well, it was Mason's fault. He dared her, she completed the dare, and she fell. If she was bleeding, it was his fault and she shouldn't be the only one to suffer in this case. It was only fair and he was a twerp and deserved it. What she could do was find him, give him a few punches for running off like a little rat, and talk sense into him. Sense being, in this case, to tell mum that he'd pushed her down and that she fell because of him. There. That was half true, right?

With a groan, she kept looking around. Now, where had he gone. It'd be harder to catch him with this knee, but she was faster anyway. The sun was really bright, so she grabbed her sunglasses and put them on, better than to be squinting into the distance like an idiot. Then, suddenly, it turned out to be useless. The sun was blocked. Confused, she turned to look at whoever was standing before it. "Can I help you?"

When she was younger Marty liked to spend a lot of time outside , she would run and run, loving the open spaces. But as she matured she fell in love with the written word all over again. She and Daniel had once spent hours in he park at home, sword fighting and pretending to be pirates. Sweet buckling adventurers who had the seven seas to explore and adventure awaiting them. She had had so much fun and life had changed so much over the years. She had been so close to her brother once but things had changed so much, her life had changed so much, she has changed so much. Nothingness the same any more, and it never would be.

Living in a new place was hard, new people new faces, new things. It was a struggle for her, trying to get to k ow people putting herself out there to be ridiculed, to be censored, to have history repeat itself. She didn't want any of it, she didn't need any of it in her life. She was trying to be passionate about life and about her job, but both things were hard to do when she was too scared to leave her apartment. The small flat was warm and lovely and she felt at home once she had done a little bit of redecorating. But she needed air and she had heard about the park, so she figured that she would go; after all, if nothing else she might be able to get some work done.

Walking through the park she breathed in the air with a smile on her face as she walked. At least until she saw a little girl sitting along bleeding. She had fallen, Marty had seen her. The poor dear. Walking towards her she gave a small, but soft smile. ”Actually I was wondering if I could help you. I saw you fall. Are you okay? “

Outfit

Maeve's mum was nice, but she wasn't exactly motherly. She thought that was how she and Mal understood each other's home life. Her mum may not have been crazy and traveling all over the world, but she wasn't what people thought of when imagining a mother of two. Tracey was tall, beautiful. Wore killer heels all day without faltering, even to train the Falcons, and never had a hair out of place. She was a tough person, she taught Maeve and Mason to be tough as well. The thing was that she wasn't particularly soft or anything like that. Maeve had never been told a bedtime story, for example, and whenever she fell her mother's reaction was not to fuss over her but to tell her to get it clean and suck it up. It had given her a very uncomplicated, upfront sort of attitude. Most people didn't expect it, it seemed. They were surprised whenever she didn't act like most fourteen year olds they knew.

"Huh? Yeah, I'm fine. It's just a scratch." Looking down at her knee, she realised she'd been prodding at it while thinking, making it bleed even more. She winced. Ah, mum was going to be so pissed now. If she didn't find Mason and got him in on the plan, she'd likely be grounded all summer. Tracey could go overboard like that. Now, where the hell was that little rat? "I'm just looking for my little brother? He sorta disappeared. Have you seen him?"

Looking at the woman more carefully now, Maeve could see that she looked... nice enough. Probably younger than her mum, though she also seemed softer than her mum. A stranger anyway and Tracey had always told her to be careful around strangers. Especially these times. Especially being so clearly a Weasley. Even though she hadn't been raised to think of herself as part of that whole clan, people didn't know her personal situation. There were enough redheads around the country, though, and Maeve thought it was silly to think that anyone would try to hurt her just because of that. But her mum worried, and she was always good at keeping her head above water, so...

"Who're you?" She looked at the woman again, tilting her head to look up properly.

She had a few nieces and nephews of her own. She had dealt with her siblings and their injuries and those of her father and mother as they got older. She had taken care of her share of cuts and bruises to the point that she almost thought herself a nurse. When she was young she had thought about becoming a healer, but she got too attached to people to do that, it would kill her to lose patients and she knew it all too well. Hell, one of the older women had died when she had been working at the library and she had cried for three days and the crone fucking hated her.

She wanted to be kind and motherly like her mother, giving and kind like her sister, and content in everything she did like her father. She would have given anything to be more like him, to be happy like he had been. Maybe she wanted too much from life, or it was the way that she was raised, but she always wanted more of the things that mattered to her to matter to other people. Maybe that was her fault and why her engagement had fallen through.

She gave the girl a kind smile before looking off towards the other part of the part and pointed. ”I saw a boy running that way. He probably went off to play or something. I can help you look though?” She said before holding out her hand for the girl to shake or help her up, whatever.

”Martha Edwards, but most call me Marty.”

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"They're not important anymore"

    The woman before her was vaguely familiar, but Maeve rarely really paid attention to many people. Least of all enough attention to actually remember their faces later on. What did it matter anyway? Most people she met she would never see again. This woman, though, seemed to her to be someone she saw regularly but never really noticed. Not that it was important, really, except for the fact that they were talking now. About nothing, really. Just her brother running off and her knee bleeding. Her knee was fine, she'd had way worse often enough. Falling out of trees was a normal deal, the problem here was finding Mason. But the woman seemed to be helpful enough with that one.

    Taking the hand that was offered, she used it to get to her feet and looked over in the direction the woman mentioned. So that's where the insect ran off to. Thought to get her in trouble and then run off so he wouldn't be held accountable? Nah. If she got in trouble, they both got in trouble. Look at it as second hand loyalty. He might not wanna go down with her, but he was gonna anyway. 

    "Thanks, Marty. I'm Maeve." Turning back to the woman, she offered a half smile. The elder seemed friendly enough and the name Edwards really did ring a bell. Blinking, she looked the woman up and down. Once. Twice. Then she hummed. "Have we met before?" Met? No, at least never properly. "Or have I seen you around somewhere?" That was more probable, really. Maybe this time she would remember. It was something she appreciated, someone helping her deal with her brat of a little brother. Oh, she loved Mason, she really did. He was just such a little shit sometimes. She couldn't help it.

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