worse for wear

Modesty had been on her way to milk the goats when a phantom wind carried ghostly scents across the moor. Dual toned eyes narrowed as she scanned the flat expanse of the moor, expecting it to just be a trick of the mind. Instead, the bedraggled shapes that limped towards her took form and she dropped her pail, only sparing breath to call for a healer and Gilgamesh to come as fast as they could. The emotions that ripped through her like a whirlwind left her nauseous and dizzy, she skipped a few steps herself as she stumbled towards the small body clutched in Wake's jaws, took in the splint on Davey's leg. She stopped short of sweeping them all up, not trusting herself in this moment. Not after all that had transpired with Ethne, and everything since. She even took a step in retreat, waiting for Gilgamesh to arrive.

She didn't trust her own tongue. Not yet.

"speech"