The Sentinels i like gypsy moths and radio talk

i missed this i fail

tachyon.

the man's absence had not gone unnoticed -- nay, his daughter asked daily after the man, and the druid himself had ranged along the coastline, searching for the slimly built creature. but his observations had turned up nothing, and dejectedly he returned home each day, empty before the grieving eyes of his palest witch.

the call that rose halted the man in his very steps; his breath was taken sharply, surprise riddling his features. and yet he dashed there straightaway, to see a wounded tachyon assailed affectionately by reserved emaleth and the dotage of deirdre. "yes, my sweets," lasher murmured to his little pair. "fetch eilidh here and clean his wounds. tachyon," taltos went on, gesturing that the man might step again into his home, his eyes fraught with worry. "what has happened?"

he smelled of the sea -- and of the priestess, but lasher's mind shied from this fact. surely she had not attacked one of his own.