Chimera Fields oh, fortune fortune

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It was almost imperceptible, the change she began to feel. The girl shuffled her ink-doused feet across the meadowland, one after the other after the other, using the metronome of her movements to pace her frenzied thoughts. Kitsch traveled with her jaw clenched and tail carried unbent, straight out behind her. It was not a pleasant jaunt but one of necessity, as the forest of  unsettling bleeding timbers stifled her emotions and kept her small — and she needed room to feel! To be angry and pissed off at the world and her circumstances; at everyone who passed her by as if the oujo were something trite and entirely mundane. But at the same time, the girl wished to numb such emotions. She didn’t truly want to feel this way, when no one was watching! Without the sympathy of others to imbue her with collective strength, Kitsch found it impossible to shoulder the burden alone. 

Then, she was doing pretty alright. Bit by bit the sadness and bitter despair fell away — cast to the wind like so many loose feathers on the back of a bird. It came about so naturally and progressively that Kitsch wasn’t really aware of it happening and in truth, any conscious change barely registered with her mental and physical faculties. Her mind, once so heavy and cumbersome, felt featherlight; her spirit bobbed along inside with her jaunty footsteps. The pearl continued to amble along, her movements more subdued and languid than before... and such was pleasantness that Kitsch would allow herself this time! A nice, long walk was a surefire way to quiet her mind, and had not failed her that day.

But then— she was not alone. Kitsch knew naught how long the man was there nor if he said anything to her, but the sounds of the brute's movement drew her dazed attention. Her place slowed to a crawl and soon ceased altogether. His close proximity stunned her somewhat, and loftily she mused how he had been able to approach her and remain undetected. It may have concerned her in her normal state of mind, but Kitsch found that she had absoltely zero qualms with his nearness. Her hearing was intact but her vision was soft around the edges and gaze felt weightless [both to the subject and to the beholder]. Kitsch lifted her flinted nose into the air and flared her nostrils in order to draw in his scent, but that sense too seemed to be deadened. Perhaps she had walked herself into such a state of relaxation that she was in a meditative, nearly trancelike — imagine that! 

By now Kitsch had spent quite some time looking at the unfamiliar brute in an unassuming silence, his thick pelt of dark hues obscuring her sight further and she found herself unable to make out his features. So the girl took a single coquettish step forward and tightened her lids around watchet eyes in an attempt to focus. Sweet mouth struggled to make the words that her mind thought so clearly and the girl let slip one small “Oh,” as her greeting, softly shattering the silence that sat heavy between them.

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