Maeve Penumbra

𝓜aeve's childhood was long since forgotten — first her father, then her mother, and eventually, she too had forgotten (mostly) everything. Her years of aimless wandering had brought her nowhere. For years, she had grown up with faces she did not recognize. Moving from one set of faces to another. Young and old, black and white, kind and gentle—it was all so desensitizing.

It was only by chance did she stumble across the beautiful pink mansion, with ivy creeping up its walls. She remembered a woman, gently taking her hand and leading her inside. She remembers the interior—filled with children both her age and just a few years older. It was her first time smelling such pleasant smells, seeing such eye catching colors.

For once... it was something exciting. Something to look forward to. To anticipate.