Firefly Glen born of cages

playin' around with some colors!

Inside, Kitsch’s mind reeled. For a lady who tried so hard to uphold her blasé exterior, the interior of her mind was uncommonly quick and even more volatile. She was confident in some ways, yet terribly uncertain and wavering in others. It had been something that plagued her since she was a small child, a swaddled princess in the arms of her court and royal bearings. The pearl had been groomed to swallow all emotions and maintain a haughty mien no matter what faced her — for her own good as well as those subservient to her.

It was a defense mechanism just as much as it was her childhood conditioning.

And here, in front of this unknown man of mahogany and sienna — obscuring her emotions felt so futile and ineffective! Kitsch knew nothing about him, but it felt as if he already knew everything about her; saw right through her, as if she was as thin as a sheet of paper.  There was nothing in his words or actions to support this, merely an idea conjured up in the dark mind of the besmirched girl… but this did not matter. She was one-dimensional wolf now, she guessed — a woman made of nothing of substance or worth keeping. 

Having seen right through her attempt to turn the tables on him, Rian questioned her own unceremonious entrance. ”Oh… no, not really.” she responded demurely to his question.  A kittenish whuff of air rushed from her nostrils as she huffed and rolled her shoulders, trying to loosen some of the tenseness that had settled there “It just felt nice to run.” Yeah, felt, in the past tense — her stupid brain had very quickly taken care of any sort of euphoria the short jaunt had provided.

“Sorry, I’m… weird.” it was the best she could do, honestly. There was no other way to relieve this weirdness other than to acknowledge it, face-to-face. The girl pursed her thin lips and looked up at him, her gaze somewhat hollow. ”You probably want to go, don’t you?”