Banshee wished, as she always did in the winter, she could join those happy families surrounding their hearths, with walls and a roof to keep them from the elements. She was often lucky if she could get more than a scrap of food - especially now. Wearing one of her mother's old dresses, probably from when she'd herself first been pregnant, Banshee couldn't even fit into any of the woman's old corsets. The baby was so big, and growing more by the minute, she knew. As she walked to one of the benches within the park, her blue eyes wandered, looking...hoping.

Still, some parts of her wished that others, in their cozy homes, their warm cloaks, with the money to buy all the food they needed and even toys for their children, would help her somehow. There were those that offered their pity; a Sickle here, a loaf of bread there. It wasn't enough, and to be honest, Banshee's pregnancy looked out of place on her thin figure. She was too thin - not getting enough food to feed both of them.

It wouldn't be long, now, before the next generation of Simmons began. If both mother and child were even able to survive the process of birth.

Sinking onto the bench, Banshee gave a rare, warm smile, her right hand smoothing over her belly. "I promise," she murmured. "If we both get out of this okay, we're not going to stay here. We'll get out of this mess my mother put us in."

Banshee lifted blue eyes to the fair-haired woman that approached, tensing instinctively, expecting to be told to go away, to get out of the park, to take her foul spawn elsewhere. The brunette wrapped her arms tight around her upper torso, teeth worrying at her lower lip. Her fear was unwarranted. Winter was cold. Winter was harsh. Sometimes Banshee wondered how she and her siblings had survived so long.

Adjusting herself so that her hands wrapped around her arms - subtly checking that the wand she wasn't supposed to have was there, that she wasn't defenseless - Banshee finally nodded. Her blue eyes flicked behind the blonde, glancing at the governess that followed her. "Trust that you don't want to be seen with me," Banshee said softly, now turning her head to look down. "The lowest of the low. They'll say I'm corrupting you. That I've tainted you."

Her right hand rested over the top of her belly now, just for a moment, before she lurched up to her feet. She stumbled slightly, but caught herself, and started to walk away. But she paused, hesitant, only a few steps away, and turned around slow.

"If you really want to help...I could use a cloak."

Banshee expected the woman to walk away, not another word in her direction. So it shocked her when she paused, and took off her own cloak. The blonde wore two. Two! A moment of rage flashed though her mind. The gall, wearing two cloaks when others can't even afford one! But she knew her status, and that most of this other woman's station wouldn't even have looked twice at her, a poor, unmarried woman with an illegitimate baby on the way.

The brunette walked forward, slow and measured, one hand on her stomach, the other slowly extending. Her mother...her siblings...they would all be envious. The little ones would try to hide in it. But for now, it only mattered that she would have it. That it would be hers, to keep herself from the frigid winter.

"Thank you," she said, truly grateful, as she wrapped her fingers around the thick fabric, lifting it to inhale whatever scent might cling to it. "Thank you so much. This...if there were a way to repay you, I would." Her blue eyes found the governess again, for a moment, and she lowered her head. "I should go."