"some ineffable fates need a little push..."
In which the adopted daughter of Heaven and Hell's representatives on Earth is the only one who can see the chemistry between them.
GOOD OMENS
SERIES ONE - ???
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THREE MONTHS LATER...
She kept her head low in her new school, avoiding all unwanted attention. Maren didn't want to make friends anymore. She was fine on her own. At least, that's what she told herself.
Her life was kept under wraps, her secrets locked in a chest she'd thrown to the back of her mind. Anxiety continued to seep through her skin, along with this constant worry that everything would go wrong again. But that's only if she let anyone else in -- she wasn't planning to do that ever again.
As predicted, it wasn't an easy start. Because of her little stunt at her old school, they were kind enough to let her new teachers know how much of a "disruptive influence" she could be.
So, they were hard on her at first, even going as far as to suspend her a couple of times. The first time was for her hair colour, the second time was for her painted nails. Honestly, there were worse things she could do; her hair and nails weren't going to start the apocalypse.
No, that was the job of a little boy. A little boy who didn't know what he was even capable of. And as each day crept closer, she kept wondering how the world would change. His eleventh birthday was two years away, but it felt a lot shorter.
The months were going by faster than drying paint. The only class she enjoyed was Art, though it would have been Music if the class actually taught music, but funding meant they could only bring in their own instruments.
But during Art, she could relax. The assignments allowed her creativity to flow, and her teacher, Mrs Ingram, could see through her rough demeanour, understanding that she wasn't a difficult student at all -- school made things difficult for her.
What sprung upon her canvas was nothing more than beautiful, and this painting was dear to the young girl's heart. She dipped her brush into a splodge of red paint on her palette before combining it with a lighter shade of orange, creating a fiery vermillion. Carefully, she stroked her brush within the outline of Crowley's hair, adding a middle colour to his red and orange mane. It stood out amongst the blues, blacks and whites.
Maren glanced at her illustration of Aziraphale, who stood on the other side, wondering if she could add anything more to him. She was leaving the sketch of herself, drawn in the centre of the painting and between her fathers, to the end, unsure how to make herself look. Putting her face to cotton wasn't the problem -- it was translating her identity, wondering how she was supposed to look as herself. It was proving to be difficult; her fathers looked so angelic and then there was her...
... What was she supposed to be?
"Sorry, um..." a voice from behind distracted Maren from her thoughts. She turned around, meeting the hesitant stare of one of her classmates, a dark-skinned girl with two identical pink clips in her hair, "... do you mind if I borrow the blue?" She held up an empty tube of blue paint, squeezed to the point of death. "I need it to make green." The girl informed her, lowering her arm. "Either that or I make the grass look yellow."
