The Sentinels is it not our place to wonder, as the sky does weep with tears

all welcome, but tagging for visibility!

deirdre still evaded her father; she was not at all discreet in this as she did not know how to be, and it pained her to see the hurt upon her fathers face. it was nearly enough to make her stay, and once she had made the effort to—but it had been too soon, and she was swiftly overwhelmed and flooded with fear. it had been weeks since that day, and the witch had taken to the garden she shared with eilidh or else was with @Tachyon, a wolf she adored and admired with all of her heart. he often found her, but as he had not done so in days, deirdre felt a fear creep into her breast. had the woman returned? had she taken him from her?

the mayfair witch was restless without him near; it was tachyon she had entrusted with her worries big and small, and he had become both her wall that kept the monsters at bay and the net that captured any that climbed them. deirdre had never been aware of her need for him up until the first day he had left. she napped where he had last been at work, but when he did not return in the time he usually would she moved toward the edges of donnelaith. not too near, lest the white ghoul be waiting for her there, but near enough to know of his approach. she would sit there for hours on end, and then busy herself at the garden, and then return and resume her wait.

how many days or nights had passed since then? she was not sure. deirdre simply knew he had not come to find her, and so on this day she again settled to her haunches in a sit, her large eyes hopeful but her heart fretting. as the hours went by, she would eventually slump into a defeated mass, laying miserably beside a blooming rosebush.