Greatwater Lake the undertaker's thirst for revenge is unquenchable

The injured lady attempted to draw herself up into a proper seated position and Kitsch gritted her teeth and she watched the attempt. The snow was stained a sickening shade of pink behind her and Kitsch could literally see inside the woman; was witness to the sinews, blood  and cords that made up her muscles. Though she tried to hide her pain, it was certain that the woman had to experience much of it — the pearl had never seen such a sight before and it was truly grotesque. The sight and smells of the torn woman offended Kitsch’s eyes and ears and delicate constitution and the girl had to steel herself against the urge to retch.  Kitsch averted her gaze, facing West but staring past her. “No, no, please…” She started, sincerely. “Please… don't sit. Lie down.” Kitsch didn't like seeing anyone in pain... that’s why she had guards to do her bidding: so she would never have to see the consequences of her own actions. They were the ones who faced situations like this, not she. 

Of course, Kitsch had not caused West’s wounds… but the experience was new all the same. “Was it… a punishment?” the ink-dipped girl spoke softly, as if West was a fugitive and someone around them would hear. After all, that was all the pain she had ever known or had ever given: punishment at the hands of one’s superiors.