The Sentinels heart in hand

i cannot say for certain, deirdre whispers to him, ears flattening atop her head. she had been whispered things that were not meant to be shared to those living, but there was a twinkle in her eye. the circle turns and turns. some spirits remain, others depart and forget that which they once were. some remember, one day... others never know. this is what the wind has told me, but the wind has told me many things. deirdre spoke with the wind as she did the trees, the flowers, the earth; the wind and the trees knew most of all, and the flowers knew of death and told of rebirth.

lucani had come, and after being given instruction deirdre did just that. she was slow and careful, observing every nuance of the wound. anything that remained deirdre set upon with her tongue, not at all revolted by the work, dirty and unseemly though it might appear. this was for her brother and his life; she was a soft, sweet thing, but her stomach steeled itself in these matters. she listened to lucani in the meantime, tongue moving in gentle and slow strokes, ear leaning toward him to be certain he felt no pain.