Blackbeak Bluff sugar veins

@Andronika 

Kitsch didn’t very much like being alone.

The girl was a social creature in almost every way. She liked the company that others provided, even if all they did was agitate and exasperated her. Kitsch liked to bounce ideas off her advisors and titter with her cohorts, to be honored by her admirers and cajoled by her court. It was all bright, all rosy, all so... inconsequential. She loved them and trusted that they could see through her blasé facade to glimpse at the paucity that lay just underneath. There was a small part of Kitsch that understood the truth of her [past] life as a royal heiress; the truth that she was nothing without the pertinacious support of her constituents, was nothing without their love. Though the girl resided in her own an apathetic and disenchanted reality, she always had nurtured a sense of gratitude for such love [when it could have so easily been their hate]. 

but now that she was alone, and though she had sought harborage with the wolves of Teaghlaigh, the lack of camaraderie in her life was oppressive. It was turbulent times for that family and Kitsch wanted to distance herself from the melodrama that continually unfolded within Ravensblood Forest. They had no love for her, but she needed their numbers and their sustenance and couldn’t seem to bring herself to leave their refuge entirely. Despite it all, the burnt pearl left the confines of the forest often, as she had that day, not to just stretch her legs but to hopefully happen across someone who wasn’t angry or in the throes of some great tumult and could provide some sort of easy, effortless conversation. 

Kitsch didn't like being alone, but she hated when things took effort.