The Sentinels yet when liberty lay wanting, no lives were lost in vain

open!!!

her quiet avoidance of her father remained even still. she made an island of herself, and emaleth seemed to understand she needed this time to be alone as deirdre had never understood those moments in emaleth. it was only too convenient to leave as he arrived, and the only time she kept to the company of her almighty father and savior was when she slept. even her mother she avoided to some measure. casmir had gone, but for his likeness to father and mother she might have avoided him, too. she favored him in other ways, and loved him more than she understood, but her anxiety in being near him had yet to abate.

at present deirdre moved slowly toward the garden she and eilidh had made together, singing a song that had been sung as she went, off-beat and quiet but still sweet in her childsvoice. ceud soiridh soiridh bhuam na e hò hao oho, gu strath m'eòlais na hi ri rirì ò, she drew in a deep breath, continuing on, o-hi ò 's a-bho roho, e hò hao oho... a breeze stirred and the birds chirped along. with each word she felt renewed, and her emerald eyes seemed to smile when her lips as of yet did not. is chon na leitir bheag na e hò hao oho, she ducked beneath low-hanging shrubs, a verdant and lush green with new life; the buds shivered, and deirdre smiled, fine with the touch of nature but very little else, now. donnelaith thrilled her, protected her; she adored it, as it seemed to adore her. drawing in another breath, she prepared to continue the waulking song; but that very breath was expelled as she broke into the garden and noted that things had sprouted forth from it and all 'round it were flowers, a sweet pink and purple in color.

Blue had been watching the silent bonding of Eilidh and Deirdre. She followed her little one now, anxious for her well being, for the emotional toll a murder had wrought upon her. Lasher had no choice, but she had wished that Deirdre hadn't had to see it. That was one thing she did regret. It is beautiful little one. You and Eilidh should be so proud. You both have your father's love for flowers. My love is more for healing and herbs.

Blue stood a way's back not wanting to upset her or startle her. If Deirdre wanted to come ot her, she would embrace her well, but if she still wanted to avoid her as well. She would not fight it. Sometimes they just needed space. Though Blue felt as if she was not as good a mother as she wanted to be. Both her sons were gone. Though perhaps that was the way of boys, girls stayed near their mothers and the boys roved far and wide?

i've been slow lately, sorry!!

the sound of her mother was entirely unanticipated by deirdre, though perhaps through the strength of her sixth sense the presence of her was not. all the same the witchling went rigid, the gentle voice assailing her and causing her to visibly cringe. her plume tucked against her supple thigh as she looked over her shoulder uneasily, half-expecting to see red upon the others visage. the other half of her expectation was just as horrifying, if not more-so: that the white she-beast stand in her mothers place, white and terrible and hideous. the residue of the grotesque intruder clung to her, and the after-effects were prolonged and miserable to all who suffered them. it was not that she thought her mother to be a bad woman, or horrible herself just the same as she did not think that of her father. deirdre was simply terrified of the event, and associated all that had occurred to beings she knew. not even eilidh could be endured for long, as she was pale of complexion like the vindictive trespasser. tachyon, with his unique design, seemed to be the only one immune to her avoidance at present. emaleth she loved as much as ever, but she had not yet unburdened herself and did not how to begin to share her pain. even if she knew how to, she would not: it was a terrible thing to possess, and utterly crippling.

she quailed in the presence of her mother. she and her sister had placed herbs here, though flowers bordered the things that were sprouting. were it any other moment but then, what was said might have remotely registered. instead the babe looked like a pup preparing to be struck; she wondered if the day she had been, if she had deserved it. she wondered if she deserved it then, for departing the den without a word.