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

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.