𝐒𝐖𝐈𝐅𝐓 (X-Men ~ Peter Maximoff)

Painting Session

Maisie Maximoff had grown up in strange household, one with a single mother and an older brother that could run so fast he would disappear from her line of sight. It wasn't something that someone would class as normal, not in the early seventies and certainly not in the middle class. Still, it had made her accustomed to seeing things that she couldn't quite explain, or more accurately, things no one else would open their minds to try and understand.

When the six year old had sauntered down the stairs that led into the basement that morning it had taken her a few moments to figure out what she was seeing. The faded blue couch that sat in the middle of the room had been Jennifer's bed for the past week or so, and so Maisie was used to seeing her sleeping there in the morning when she came down to nag Peter. Right now, however, there were no blankets over the teen girl, but rather what Maisie could only describe giant bird wings.

Inhabiting the curiousness of any other young child, Maisie headed straight for the bundle of feathers residing on the couch, examining the faded grey colours carefully as she hesitantly brushed her small fingers against the soft and seemingly delicate texture. The result of this action was the wings rustling together, the nerves within them evidently sensitive to human touch. With a small shuffle and a slight readjustment of the cocoon, Maisie was able to see the creature the wings belonged to – none other than the newest resident of the house.

The sight of Jennifer sleeping peacefully under the pallet of greys hadn't lasted long, the six year old rushing back up the stairs when she heard the door leading into her big brothers bedroom creak open, knowing that he wasn't the biggest fan of her being in his personal space. Of course, she had been down for a reason, but that reason was to ask Jennifer to have tea party with her, and since she was asleep the answer was obviously no.

Laura Maximoff, in a rush to leave for a surprise shift at the hospital, failed to notice the withdrawn and dazed look on her daughters face as she slowly ate her breakfast – a slice of bread that had only momentarily seen the glow of heat before it had been ripped from the machine and smothered in butter, making it as a limp as a four day old leaf of lettuce. The idea of wings on a human was such an absurd idea to the girl whose only concept of what adults referred to as mutants was her brother, who, with the exception of his 'natural' silver hair and his unusual sense of fashion, seemed pretty normal on the outside. You couldn't see his mutation, in fact, you wouldn't even be aware of it unless you annoyed the boy, in which case you would end up with you hair pointed straight at the ceiling and no clue how it ended up like that.

Jennifer was different case entirely though. Bearing her mutation on the outside (sometimes), she was the first time Maisie had ever seen someone look not quite human, and it made the young girl wonder how it was possible.

School weren't a fan of teaching pupils about mutation, despite the fact that almost everyone had basic mutations and around a sixth of the population had what was referred to as the X-gene. Chances were that many people would grow to a ripe old age without understanding genetics or what caused the X-gene to arise, and perhaps that's why they discriminated against mutants, why they viewed them as a different species and slaughtered them.

Hate and poison was yet to reach the young and open mind of Maisie Maximoff though, and she didn't view her brother and his best friend as freaks or outcasts. To her, mutants were people that were so special and important that the world had given them gifts in return. Of course, hardly anyone would call their mutations 'gifts', but that was result of fear and the worlds opinion.

Laura left the house much in the same way she had travelled around it, only pausing her busy bustle to give Maisie a quick kiss on her forehead and shout to the just stirring teens that they had to look after the girl. With a jingle of keys the front door opened and shut again mere moments later, and the sound of footsteps retreating down the driveway was soon replaced by the engine of the car roaring to life and pulling away from the house. After that it was rather quiet for a while, minus the odd sound of footsteps echoing from downstairs or a muffled mini conversation.