Words playing me deja vu Like a radio tune I swear I've heard before

Modesty had been checking on the short shaggy cows when the call went up. Her brows drew down for a moment, why would Rivin be calling to be let in? Oh, that was right. She frowned as her stomach twisted. That wasn't expected at all. She grumbled a low growl at herself. She had been short, and rash, and all the things she gave Gilgamesh the most shit for. She owed the girl an apology in the least.

Making her way across to the black sand beach, she kept her head and tail level with her spine, flagging a wave at her back to show she came in peace, her gait was loose and steady, there was no red-haze charging to be done on this day. Though she did fix her son with a hard stare of disappointment, it looked like a lesson had been learned in some form or other at least. “Rivin,” She greeted the woman with a hesitant tip of her head. Modesty looked... visibly ill, her ears turned half back and her lips pulled tight against her teeth. It was clear that whatever she was about to say was bringing her great distress.

“Thank you, for bringing Tarnish home. I owe you an apology...” There it was. If she could change colour with the sick feeling in her stomach, she would be greener than a grasshopper in this moment. “I acted rashly and took my... emotional dysregulation out on you disproportionately. It had been a trying day but that is no excuse.” Her ears were flat against her skull by the time she had finished, her head low and chin stretched forward, the closest to a peace offering she'd ever offered anyone. “I am, truly sorry, and would extend a personal welcome if you ever wished to return.” She gave a full-bodied shake to dispel her discomfort now that was over with. “Not that I would do so, were the tabled turned, I acknowledge I am petty like that.” She answered honestly with a self-depreciating grin. “But if we can't be ourselves in our homes, are we really at home?”

“Speech.”