Mave Elise-Ida MacGreggor

12 October 1998 (17 years old)

Female

Bisexual

Currently unemployed

Mave is a bit stocky, weighing in at around 120 lbs (depending on how many cupcakes she’s eaten) while being 5’2.” Her skin is fine porcelain, smooth and unscathed. When she blushes the colour runs from her cheeks, neck, chest, and even the tips of her ears. Her green eyes and naturally red hair give hints to a bit of her heritage.

Much like her personality, she tends to stray from gaudy and stick to classy. She doesn’t like jewellery most of the time and attempts to keep her wardrobe simple, sweet and convenient. This also helps when she’s baking, since jewellery can often get caught in equipment or end up in the food (blech!).

Speaking of baking, that’s where you’ll find her. Coated in flour and sticky, sugary things. She often forgets to take off her apron and will wear it to the shops or on her way home absentmindedly.

Wildflowers

Mave is a sweet girl to put it simply. She lives a simple life with a coupld of sprinkles to liven it up a bit but for the most part she's the smooth-sailing, settle-down type.

✔Baking, cupcakes, cookies, decorating cakes
✔ Cats and cats and cats and cats
✔Cuddling/Fluff
✔ Foraging her own ingredients
✔ Blue! And pink...hmm
✔ Tea <3

✘ Yelling/Fighting
✘ Unfairness
✘ONIONS.
✘ Judgemental people
✘ Getting burned

She enjoys finding and helping stray cats as well as adopting them as her own. She can often be found on her way into the woods and picking berries, herbs and mushrooms.She used to like baking in her spare time, but now it’s her job! Don’t tell anyone, but she still enjoys it. Other than that, reading is a big part of her life.

Mave grew up like every normal Irish girl. She helped plant the seeds, squish bugs that tried to eat the tomatoes, dig up potatoes, string the beans and slop the pigs. They never had cows because they didn’t have the room but sometimes she’d even milk the goats.

She was from a good, Catholic family. They attended every service that her father was sober enough to remember. They did food drives for the unfortunate, prayed with their cloths and beads, and were taught verses and prayers even as children. They were all taught valuable lessons at the end of a leather belt, one for each of the kids with their name etched into the design. Other lessons were taught by her mother, like how to darn a sock, how to can vegetables, and how to make a flaky, butter pastry within ten minutes.

Maybe her childhood started her love for food, borderline fascination or obsession with it. It was a mixture of science, art, and magic that at the end of the day you could eat. Although, this was all she knew of science or art as a child because she was homeschooled until high school. Her parents thought that a more valuable education could be taught at home but quickly realised that high school was an important time for kids to learn social skills and trigonometry, of which they gave no cares for.

She found her open door when she was invited to take part in a Pastry Chef course that began during her senior year. She was taken in as an exchange student and spent a week learning from and training in the styles of several European countries. At first, her parents were reluctant until they heard that the leader of the program was Catholic as well and would be sure that all the students behaved and dressed properly. The program ended with the end of the year and she would have been home in time for the festivities had she not been at the top of her program. They spent a week competing, much like Master Chef, and their finale even made it on local television in the UK (Their base station was London).

Sadly, she did not win the overall challenge but she made it to the finale, and for that she was proud. She would have never imagined getting this far in life so early, and yet she had to look forward to going back to her same town with the same people and same backwards thinking. She now had the tools to move on with her profession, and who knew where that would take her.

One glimmer of light pressed through her thoughts. She had left behind a boy, one that her parents knew nothing of nor will they ever if they were both to survive. Sadly, this meant there was no way for them to communicate during the time she was gone. She was bursting with happiness at the thought of seeing his face again. The farmhand of her brother, he was older, wiser, stronger...dreamier than the boys at school. He didn’t throw paper wads, he picked tobacco. He didn’t make fun of her books, he shovelled shit. He didn’t grope her in class, he made the gentlest of love.

She thought that her affairs with Aaron were on tight lockdown but there was a chance some of her friends found out. So long as her parents didn’t know, she would be satisfied.

Mave is one of seven children, a bit much for her area but nothing unthinkable. There are plenty of people with more, but three or four would be considered “normal.”
Name-Gender-Age: Gerald-Male-24 (Neighbor), Talia-Female-20, Albe-Male-19, Aiden-Male-14, Reagan-Female-7, Liam-Male-2

Anything else.