Ravensblood Forest Tonight we are young

Kitsch, out!

It was becoming clear that these two were not kitsch-fans. Kitsch’s jaw tightened ever so slightly at the realization and steeled herself against their hard stares. It was never fun to be the objection of condescension and it seemed to happen so often lately! It was never Kitsch’s wish — in fact, most often she bore nothing but good intentions [albeit poisoned by an affluent and forgiving upbringing]. The tide of the conversation had shifted quite quickly and it was not all directed towards her. This was so unfair — all she did was care.  

“No…” came her sullen response to Dakarai, small and without fire. Her heart clenched and she jaw clipped shut, feeling as if she might cry. Perhaps in another life she would have went ahead and shed tears [it was a tried and true tactic in getting what she wanted] but not here. not now. not in front of these strangers who judged her so harshly when the lost girl was simply doing the best with the tool she had been giving. Kitsch turned her head to Lia and felt the cool regard that hovered between them. “I’m trying,” the oujo elucidated poorly, realizing that the more she spoke, the most she resembled a petulant child. Feeling betrayed by her body and mannerism, Kitsch desired nothing more than to dismiss herself from this scene — she didn’t have to subject herself to the judgement of peasants, after all. “I must go,” came her third broken sentence and she waited for the two elders to acknowledge her dismissal before heading back from whence she came.