The Sentinels but hold the banner proudly, the truth will set us free

any family is of course welcome at any time, too! @Eilidh @Blue Willow @Lasher @Emaleth

deirdre as of yet did not associate the saying of her name as something she should harken to; she also did not understand any given command, such as 'come here' or 'stop' or 'no'. she had become truly primordial in The Forgetting, but the truth of it was she had never understood a word any adult had ever said to begin with. in fact, it was only recently that she could hear in a way different to what she had heard from her beginning. that things had meaning was very nearly understood, but sticking to one thought on that line was quite difficult when the world brought on the distraction of another word. and she always wanted to say it! it filled her heart with joy to do it—ah, to see the joy it brought others as she did it!

when the other nosed at her belly—still presumably eilidh, to her—deirdre laughed and swatted violently at the muzzle in her reach, the reaction involuntary as she was tickled, and wiggled helplessly beneath until the end of it. of course, deirdre's violence was that of a butterfly wing brushing a flower petal, so harmless was it, but she was effected greatly by the gentle nosing of her sensitive stomach and she protested against it! it did not last long at all, but deirdre looked dismayed all the same that it happened at all, conflicted as she was to decide if she liked that, or despised it. even that she could not dwell on for too long, when her one-track mind was (again) set on a new—or old, as it had happened but moments ago, too—course, which she embraced whole-heartedly.

ES! ES!!! she crowed back, wriggling onto her stomach and moving to spring upward at the other, grinning winsomely, ISH! ISH!!! she quite liked that word, she did; she had heard it from her father in the fondest voice, and it set fire to her heart and warmed her even as the cold bore down from all around. the heat of it lasted but a moment as a knowing, sentient twinkle came into her eyes while looking at aria, her head tilting as she identified with the beauty of it, of witch—ish, as she had said—and she very well said, yes, that is right, because that was what she felt, but then again there was the forgetting, and that age-old look, seemingly wise and aware, morphed again into the lovely, genuine innocence that were her blessed, angelic features. it was then she began to shiver, winters bony fingers acting as knives sliding against her delicate flesh. she hadn't the stuff to last outside for very long at all, her adult furs growing (and as of yet, unable to be called noticeable) but not at all prominent to be a saving grace for her then.