Wild Berry Meadow china rich girlfriend

There was so much to think about lately — from the loss of West, to her self-imposed loneliness, to the emptiness left by the poppy, to her worthlessness — that, as Kitsch was wont to do, she shut down and refused to process any of it. More than a few nights were spent in tearful bouts, revisiting memories about mom and dad and her friends and West and how stupid storms had pulled her away from every single one of them. She had gotten over losing her family and her royalty long ago, so much of her recent sadness stemmed from her wresting from West’s side.

Sometimes, she cried so hard that she left herself with a wicked headache. Though the Kitten had genuinely liked West and trusted her caretaker more than most, she could not deny that most of her tears shed were over her own inborn disadvantages. She hadn't been feeling like herself lately — In fact, she hadn’t felt like herself in a while. 

But the clime was favorable this time of year, albeit almost too hot at times. Kitsch’s thin, velvet-like coat was made to ventilate in the heat, rather than warm in the cold, so she was fine, fine, fine with this. She was still quite thin, but the movement and sunshine and food had filled her out and restored a summery sheen to her pelt. The sunshine manifested itself in other ways too, in the beautiful blooms and flowers that the decorated girl loved so; but it manifested in another way, too, a way that delighted almost every single one of her senses — berries. They were dark and plump and plentiful and in great variety, especially here! The pearl had found these meadows not long ago and had given into a great sense of indulgence. They were so beautiful and so sweet, how could she not take advantage of the season’s plenty? Kitsch plucked the small fruits from the low-lying branches with her tongue and drew it between her rosebud lips, staining her maw a melange of pinks and purples and blues. When she felt the sweet flesh fill her belly and her hunger became sated, Kitsch laid her diminutive frame against the ground and sun bathed, limbs outstretched completely and eyes that fluttered between sleep and wakefulness… in a blissful, berry-induced limbo. 

Yes, limbo felt good.