The Sentinels these feelings

deirdre smiled at the others words. life. i feel that, always, she hummed, her words warm. even with the plague, she had felt life laying dormant beneath the slaughtering. life rest beneath them now, she could feel it in the gentle hum of the earth. 'twas in a restful lull, but soon its vibrancy would return. the other admittance was something she had heard from no other within donnelaith--not a great many could feel things on such a unique level, though perhaps they simply did not allow themselves to. there is something i sense in you, too, and it was a strange thing, different from the strength of emaleth and herself, a unique concotion that felt stunted, but unfinished still. it withered, but was not dead--it could yet survive and grow.

deirdre knew what rowan said to be true, as she felt life even as it was in its restful slumber. even after its devouring, there was no trepidation in its return. yes, she agreed, her tail swaying in a lax, pendulum like motion. though i have never felt death. i have felt sickness, she informed. no, she, so young, had not yet felt true death; the earth had not truly died, after all, and though the leaves had disappeared they would soon, like the flowers, fall into blossom again.

deirdre stepped nearer to this woman, her eyes curious and tracing the fair features upon the others face. you... there was a familiarity, there, but she was unsure, and let rowan complete the thought if she wished it as she herself wondered at what it was she wished to express.