Throw the whole man away

Between having to stop to catch her breath and being temporarily debilitated with coughing fits (was that blood she could taste on her tongue?) It had taken her the better part of the night just to reach the mainland. By the time she reached the shrine, the sun was beginning to peek above the horizon. Her breathing was labored, her eyes were gross and gritty from crying and lack of sleep and she swore to herself that if he bothered to show his face before she had at least slept, she would tear out her not-husband's throat herself... If she didn't feel so fucking pitiful.

Her voice was hoarse as she wailed to her brother, “I don't care if you're not decent, Pont I'm coming in!” As she unceremoniously stomped into the shrine, instinctively turning towards the room that had been hers when she was a pup. It was probably dusty and full of spiders, but no more than her own fucking home had become.

Modesty just wanted to curl up in any tattered skins that remained and cry herself to sleep. There would be time to get spiritual later.

“Speech.”