deirdre had been named for two great witches; one who was unable to live her life so, though who was also effortlessly powerful, and the latter who wielded her power and was free from the command of any. deirdre was never opressed, and was free to be the most powerful of her name. for one so gentle, so sweet, deirdre was a fitting name--and stella, another named mayfair witch, was fitting, too. for deirdre was unabashed, free, and open with her adoration, unafraid and happy with all she had been given. there was no curse upon emeralds in donnelaith! and she possessed them, as surely as stella had, and deirdra had, and antha, and all the others! liberated to be, to not burn. perhaps lashers greatest successes were those he brought into the world.

his name came, and it was harsh, fitting. skellige, she spoke in her witches voice, as though to bless it, skellige cairn. a very strong name, deirdre hummed this, and a thin smile came to her lips then. i am truly glad to know you, and to see you here. her words were spoken in earnest, and despite the fragility of her expression, 'twas also real. thankful, she was thankful. how is it i can repay you? you have taught me to fish, and now, you have saved my life!

his query was met with the gentle shake of her head. and then, with a puzzled look on her lovely countenance, deirdre tilted her head and asked, do you know your queen or king when you see her as a babe? do you raise one and think, 'it is this spirited one that will lead us'--what if their heart turns sour, and their intentions turn cruel? that had not happened in donnelaith, but she imagined, too, why it had not. perhaps now she could ask the wolves of donnelaith their thoughts on her ascending one day with their teachings. would they think her fit? deserving? would they cast her aside and forget the legacy of lasher in favor of the ones who lived yet? and could she begrudge them that choice? 

that he saw potential in her caused her to lift her head some, as she had once seen her father do when greeting a stranger. deirdre was only now becoming intrigued by hierarchy, only now learning of what spirit rest within her and its dreams. you believe i have potential? she breathed, her tail thumping lightly against the earth. she wondered what her father would think of all this, what her father might have wished were he alive. his recent loss burned still, and her tail beat no more... it felt terribly wrong to feel so happy so soon. 

his next questions came, and deirdre smiled warmly. perhaps i could, if someone had the power. it is not a thing seen in many, i am told. but all can be taught the magick of healing! and i would teach any willing to learn. there are cubs in donnelaith that i will be mentoring one day, she grinned at the thought. and after a beat, she answered, without herbs, i used the saltwater and the seas greenery to heal you. do you know of more ways? 

deirdre waited a moment and looked away. she then let out a little sigh. i could not bring such things up yet. my father, he has just... it would hurt, to talk of... to make it... as though his passing, the only important bit that came of it, meant only who would next take his place... there must be a ceremony done for him, to remember him... she drew in a sharp breath, and looked upward at the large sky. ah, there was that sadness. it had found her.

she was interested to hear of his culture, and listened raptly. it was utterly different from home and how she was raised. though she was taught what could be learned of the craft from a man who was no witch himself, she was forced into no role. she was given choice, and she felt this important, felt it necessary. though a part of her felt as though things were meant, she could force none of that if others were unwilling. donnelaith was her heart; she would not wish to displease any of them, if they would not have her...

and yet, there was a fierce part of her that wished to have it! 

still, she was unlearned. she had potential, but had she the true skill? deirdre listened as he spoke on his sister, surprised by the tone in which he spoke. he did not seemed pleased nor proud... she knew not how to define the voice in which he spoke in, having never heard it before. perhaps we are born for things, she spoke, quite keen on the idea, but my parents raised me to be who i am today. my father raised me to make my own decisions, to forge my own path, to be the best that i can for myself and for others... my mother raised me to be independent, to aid others, to always be kind. she took a breath, and looked to him. i would choose this alliance, still she did not know he meant to make her his child bride; she did not know the depth of his feelings, nor the depth of his intent, but i would have you teach me what you could--and i would see if donnelaith could one day see me as they saw my father, my mother, and in turn be taught by them. for they were both leaders before her. but the beauty was very young, and had much to learn! 

at the mention of his brother, deirdre's eyes widened. your brother, he is here? all the while noting that his tone, when speaking of the boy, was not what it had been when he spoke of his sister. i would love to learn! deirdre had a thirst for learning and the acquiring of knowledge, and though the world had darkened significantly since the loss of her father, she detected light here, felt hope. as he spoke of not needing to discuss these things, as he drew forth to press his tongue against her cheek, she leaned into him fondly. to the cub, this was all innocent. he had saved her, and her psyche was drawn to him and implicitly trusting of him. 

it is very soon, to talk of these things. it... it was more painful a wound than the one gluskap had inflicted upon her. i do not know that any would support me. what if it is my sisters wish? my brothers dream? not  to mention the wolves at the helm. what if her friend osprey was not warm to the idea? what if her dear aria did not wish to see her become queen when she was of age? the future frightened her as much as it excited her, then. i want to be ready... she whispered, lowering her head to her forelegs as she shifted her body to a more comfortable position whilst still ensuring their furs mingled. her inability to finish the statement simply begged him for time to mourn, time to adjust. she peered to him beneath her thick lashes, sighing.