Hushed Willows what happened to the charm of a small town?

homeless. homeless! i am not homeless, you bitch, but that part stayed clasped between her lips; we're going to rivenwood. your pack is just a pit-stop.
dinah puffs up like a pissed off cat, eyes narrowed fiercely into fine slits of sea-blue and back arched defiantly. if one looked at her, they could have easily expected a hiss to fly from the trenches of her throat. who did this, this, this— this fucking hippie think she was? and y'know--
something hard and cold clinks up against her nail. keep it. so you can remember your home.
a deadly mixture of fury as well as exhaustion had boiled harshly inside of her, but now it felt as if someone lifted the lid and left her as merely a simmering puddle. so much for being nice. so much for having felt like herself, even if only for a tiny, fleeting second. she felt almost guilty for that, for having entertained her old hobby instead of letting the mourning suck her back down, for having stopped to talk to this stupid girl with the pretty eyes.
and now she was alone.
her eyes linger on the rose-hued pearl for a while before she can no longer hold back the tears.