venom of venus

There's a visible hardening around the edges of Modesty's eyes at the mention of Bellamy. That one would need to be put down, but that wasn't her worry right now. It was clear the battle had been more ferocious than their own playful grab at sick chickens, but she imagined her Raider's were giving as good as they were getting. The lazy way her kite dipped and wheeled through the sky rather than racing back to her spoke volumes to the woman. “He's big enough and ugly enough to look out for himself, he's probably just making sure they get out and the kids get clear.” There was an anxious twisting of her stomach that wouldn't show on her face, wouldn't slide into her voice. Project the outcome she expected and the universe wouldn't give her anything else, right?

Modesty reached for the sharpened snake rib needle, only pausing to check in with Jael before she began to stitch her up. The movement was smooth and precise, anyone would think she had done this before (you didn't live with an antagonistic pack like this one this long without picking up some ancillary skills). “What did they come for anyway?” The cow's shit so much Modesty was about to give them away, the goats had only been here a few days and she was already worrying about how they were going to keep them fed in a few months' time. That really only left booze or the chickens, and they were welcome to what was left of those too, so why the bloodshed? She'd made it obvious how they would be greeted that day on the beach, were they just that dense?

“Speech.”