The Sentinels i would die for her, i would kill for her; either way, what bliss

deirdre pursed her lips at his words, but the cool expression did not detract from her lovely features. the face melted to nothing as she repeated the words softly and knew them to be true. a frown came in its place, and her eyes shifted to the water that frothed just before them. she could have wept, and a tear did form from one eye, but she stubbornly blinked it away. her frustration was reaching its summit, and her heart was torn! to resurrect was wrong; she would not dabble in it, in knowing this. at her own core, deirdre was good and gracious. wickedness did not tempt her, though her lack of understanding certainly did put her in a place where she still must weed her way through right and wrong.

the locusts around them continued to hum, and deirdre thought of the ones she had brought to an end and closed her eyes in a brief silent prayer for them. though they had destroyed her friends and took them too soon, how was she better than those who had done such a heinous thing in acting as they had? and as he prompted her to join him, the witch looked to him. no longer was she angry; her heart was sad and ached too much to have much room for it. so dutifully, and willingly, she obliged him, moving to go with him.