Maeve had been halfway out the gate when she heard her grandmother calling her. She closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath and planting a smile on her face. “Yes, Mhamó?” she asked, turning around. She started up the walk, knowing what was coming and wanting nothing more than to simply appease the old woman. Her little corgi bounced along in front of her, all too eager to see the sweet elderly woman who loved spoiling Lorcan with what he thought were treats. The older woman knelt down with a grunt, scratching the dog on the back of his head until he rolled over in excitement, all four stubby paws wiggling around up in the air.<br/><br/>“You forgot your wards…” she said softly, giving the happy creature a rub on his belly before tying a small little satchel of dried oatmeal to his collar. She turned to her granddaughter and held out a similar bag on a chord of leather. The red haired young woman let out a sigh, but took the bag anyways, slipping it around her neck. “The fey are always watching. Waiting. They won’t leave us alone…” Cliodhna murmured, petting the dog gently as it propped its paws up on her knees and tried to bounce towards her face in a futile attempt to lick it. The steel haired woman took hold of the doorframe and pulled herself back to standing after giving the dog one more pat. “You know how much it would pain me if the Mad King took you…” she murmured softly, before gesturing for the girl to continue with her walk.<br/><br/>“I’ll be back in an hour.” Maeve called after her as the older woman returned to the safety of her little country cottage, fingertips pressing into the rowan wood inlay of the door frame, as if to check that it was still there. She simply nodded, waggling her fingers at the dog, before closing the door. Maeve could hear the Television click on to the latest episode of her grandmother’s archeology show, and smiled softly, before latching the gate behind her.<br/><br/>Ever since she was a child she could remember her grandmother telling her stories of the Mad King’s court, fantastical tales of what the fae did in their world, and how her grandmother, his captive bride, had freed herself and escaped. Maeve had always thought they were just stories, but it wasn’t until she was older that she started to realize the elderly woman believed every word she was saying. The last time her mother had been near her grandmother, it had been to take her to several doctors and psychologists. She was convinced the old woman was losing her mind. It had angered Maeve to see her mother so desperate for there to be a problem. But despite being nearly eighty years old, the woman who smoked, drank, and still greeted the Sabbats in the old way, was gorgeous and vibrant, taking only a multivitamin unlike most of her friends. Her doctors joked they’d never seen a healthier woman.<br/><br/>Maeve, unlike her mother, did her best to ignore most of what her grandmother did, loving the woman despite her eccentricities. She’d moved in with her when she’d turned eighteen, and despite being six months on and living in the in law suite above the old carriage house turned car garage,  she didn’t regret the decision even slightly. She liked her job answering phones for the town council, she liked the small town life better than the big city, and she loved spending time with her grandmother.<br/><br/>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<br/><br/>It was just after ten at night when the redhead and the corgi arrived at the park beside the lake. She loved going for walks when the moon was new the best, because of all the stars overhead. And Lorcan liked everything. Walks, Squirrels, people, other dogs, puddles, trees, there was nothing he wasn’t happy to see. The loop around the lake was a decent walk, but Maeve wasn’t planning on going the whole way around. Instead she stopped at the fenced in dog run, letting Lorcan off his leash and shutting the gate behind him so she could lay down in the grass and look up at the sky. There was an odd feeling in the air tonight, but it was one she’d gotten used to. Weather it was in her apartment with no windows open, or out here in the middle of the night, she’d often catch just the faintest whiff of burning leaves. She’d never mentioned it to her grandmother, but a friend of hers who claimed to have psychic gifts  insisted it was probably her grandfather watching over her. She liked that explanation more than anything else, though to her it was about as credible as her grandmother’s fantastical tales.<br/><br/>Chattering drew her attention off to the side, before she sat up slowly and smiled at the squirrel sitting on the far end of one of the benches that surrounded the lake. “Hey there little guy… she murmured softly, easing onto her knees. “Well you’re up late aren’t you… hoping i have some food?” she teased, not even thinking twice about the fact that she was talking to a squirrel. She talked to her cats all the time, and Lorcan as if he was a human toddler.  With a sigh, as the little creature bounded closer, she took the pouch from her neck and emptied the dried oats onto the side of the bench closest to her, before backing away. “There. I brought you dinner.” she sat back and watched the squirrel scamper over, sniffing it before it started stuffing its cheeks.<br/><br/>Lorcan’s nervous little bark drew her attention behind her as she looked around. “What is it boy?” she asked, standing up and walking over to the fence. “What’s wrong?” a rustling sound behind her made her turn around once more, the squirrel straight up and looking freaked, before bolting into the trees as a brisk wind brought with it the heavy smell of burning leaves.<br/><br/><a class="username" data-user-id="129" data-username="@RenegadeZero" data-xf-init="member-tooltip" href="https://blackdahliaroleplaying.com/members/129/">@RenegadeZero</a>