The Sentinels honey and sulfur

he did not respond to her question, though her intent focus upon it drifted as he spoke of something else. deirdre had the mind of a child, after all, and it was prone to forgetting things quickly enough and belatedly recalling them, and its importance, if it was recalled at all. like a doll left behind at the playground that was remembered too late. 

deirdre was rapt at his mention of spirits, a word that called to her, and of gods. but her interest deflated and she bristled at his words, affronted and pained by them. the babe had even flinched, so accosted was she by the thought. no! why! why would they do that? it was then she looked up to the heavens, and back to her father again. spirits, gods... who are they, to do this? came her rail-thin voice. again she looked to the sky. maybe he left, maybe, like casmir! this was a better hope for her heart, but it wounded her, too, clearly.

as her father went on, speaking of never seeing her again, deirdre looked to him with an open mouth, her wounded heart pouring forth from her eyes. not return! she breathed, not sure of what this meant. but you, when you go, you always return! casmir will return! tachyon will return!