Sequoia Coast your heart is like the ocean, mysterious and dark

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her head tilted at his words. 'war'. constantine had informed her of such a word; it worried her, that he was a child of it, and yet she wondered at what exactly this meant. she knew from the sound of constantine's stories she wished war would never touch donnelaith; that it would be a world unto itself, that the spirits might protect it from the view of those that set their sights upon it. and she adored this man--she detected no true evil in him, seeing his heart was rife with goodness. he had saved her, twice over!

as he spoke of his intent, deirdre looked to him with patience and intrigue both. was she so surprised? this man was of the ocean, of course he would lay claim to some part of it! and who better to do so?  who more fitting than this rugged man beside her, kingly in each and every gesture? the hefty man beside her would see the measure of her youth as she wondered at his words, wondered at the exact meaning of them. she had much to learn--she was not a woman privvy to politics and policies, yet. and yet there was promise there.

donnelaith is a sacred place, she murmured to him, there is great magic there, and i protect it as it protects me. i am a witch, skellige, her eyes looked to him, wondering if he might believe her and yet feeling that surely he would. i have prayed for the earth to return, and it returns. when that man came, i prayed for aid--first came lightning, then came you. the spirits are with me. donnelaith is a place of peace-- she observed him, licked her chops laden with salt crystals. a place of worship, safety, and healing. i want no war, i want no destruction. i would not have donnelaith touched by any of these things... her emerald eyes wanted to see him heed this, heed her conviction. if you could tell me that donnelaith itself would be untouched by this... nothing would make me happier, for deirdre did not understand the depth behind his words, the meaning of what, exactly, he asked of her.

still, she was not finished. his words had spoken to her heart, had summoned a secret she had not known existed. i do not know that i would rule donnelaith, though one day, when i am of age, i would wish it... she looked skyward, and tilted her head. i do not know that any others would. wish it, i mean. no one has spoken of potential to me before... the flowers and the creatures and the woods knew her as intimately as she knew them. but who else but the forest itself would see her seated on its rooted throne by the sea? and yet the seed was planted. the question yearned to bloom from her lips, and she thought of aria, of osprey, of eilidh, of constantine, of lucani, of dante, of tachyon, of renoir, and of her cousin, rowan; what would they wish? what would they think?

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