The sun was boiling her skin as it shone in tremendous waves from her curtain stripped windows, the smell of autumn heavy on the air. It was an unnaturally hot day in Thornwick. Everyone was either stuffed away in the comfort of their homes or suffering away at whatever work they had under the blazing sun. Maeve, unfortunately, fell under the latter. Her mother had decided to round up everyone and clean up the manor. That included Maeve, of course. She had ordered the sofas, all twelve of them, alongside the fourteen carpets lining the rooms and living rooms to be rolled up and dragged outside for a 'deep clean' as she had called it.

Maeve had already scrubbed four of the sofas and two carpets with help from the two maids. But as luck would have it, they had run out of soap, and it fell to Maeve to retrieve some. Now, standing on the warm tiles of her bedroom floor, she held out a pair of black pants and a matching collared shirt. She knew her mother would protest changing her attire for a five-minute walk to the nearest shop, but the sea-foam colored dress was latching onto her like a leech. It was relatively clean, but the heat had her sweating in large amounts. She quickly ripped off the dress as slipped on her fresh clothes, setting aside the scolding it would ensue. Her mother was different from other ladies she had met. She didn't care for tea parties, gossip, or any mundane and trivial pastime ladies of her status had. She preferred to help the maids clean, help the cook, anything to keep her occupied. And adding in the unnecessary laundry was a waste of resources. Maeve agreed but to a certain extent.

She slipped her feet into matching black slippers and towel-dried her face. She quickly applied a small amount of face paint, making sure to include her neck. Maeve was born with a Mark. A straight black line, with three smaller lines crossed diagonally across it. It was a small Mark, about the same length as her index finger. It was on the left side of her neck, etched in the middle. Marks were physical signs that the individual bore an affinity upon birth. And hiding it had become a habit to Maeve. She let loose her pitch-black hair, taking care to have it hide some of her neck's skin and set off.

"I'm heading out!" Called out Maeve as she raced down the staircase, her hands running along the chipped golden rails, the gray undertones peeking out.

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"Maeve?" Came her mother's voice from the kitchen, where she held a cup of tea. Her vibrant yellow dress soaked at the knees with soapy water, her brown curls wild atop her head. She crossed the distance with a few steps, setting the cup on a nearby table.

"Have you covered up?" She asked, her warm hand pulling Maeve's hair back to examine her neck, ignoring her attire. An internal sigh of relief echoed in Maeve's bones.

Maeve nodded as she slowly pulled away, draping her hair back. It was a question that Maeve had heard millions of times growing up. A sign that no matter how responsible Maeve was in this matter, there was a lingering fear in her mother's heart. Shielding away a part of herself was a necessary precaution. Not only would it put her in danger, but it would also affect her parents, her friends, anyone and anything she knew and held dear. It was a secret that most Marked didn't keep.

"Hm..It might rub off with you sweating like that. Take a scarf?"

Maeve's face fell into a deadpan. "I can't tell if you want to kill or embarrass me, dear mother. If you're so worried, have Tristy or Gerulnda go." She said, crossing her arms.

Her mother gently picked up her tea and held its bottom under her left palm. "You know we have other matters to attend to, and they aren't fast on their feet like you, dear daughter." She crooned, taking a sip, her large chocolaty brown eyes on Maeve. A silent invitation for Maeve to retort. A debate, no matter the topic, was one of her favorite pastimes. She could and most certainly will hold Maeve here all day just to get across her point. No matter how childish or trivial the debate was. It was one of the qualities that most ladies never returned for a second visit with her.

Maeve smiled and dipped into a deep bow. "Oh, your kindness is too much, my lady." She said, quickly rising  to her full height. Her mother had an uninterested expression, much too used to her daughter's theatrics.

"Hurry along now, I haven't got all day. We still have three carpets and-"

"Yes, yes, you needn't remind me." She said, as her mother dropped a few coins into her waiting palm.

"Be careful, and don't make eye contact with-"

"With the guards, I know, mother." Maeve cut in, providing her mother with a small smile which she slowly returned. With her yellow dress and brown hair, she looked like a sunflower. Beautiful and radiant. Without any reason at all, she planted a kiss on her mother's cheek, not knowing that this might be the last time she would ever see her again. That the sunflower of today would wilt the next. And slowly fade away into nothingness. Leaving nothing but the stem of something that once was.