The Sentinels your hand fits in mine like it's made just for me

deirdre panicked for a moment at the strangled sounds she heard and drew closer to aria, prepared to save the woman from that fate should that be necessary, but it was not. a bug, the woman said, and deirdre looked worriedly at her. death and loss were things she was becoming familiar with, now, and she was reluctant to become further acquainted with it in this moment.

at the question, deirdre does not hesitate in admitting her latest dreams to aria. she trusts the woman, and cherishes her, and does not think it too bold to be honest with her and her own hearts desires. i dream of green and green and green, and of other pretty shades filling donnelaith again. i dream of my mother and my father, and i dream of witches i have never met. i dream of ruling this place one day, she was breathless from the admission, her green eyes full of her passion. as you do. with you. two queens, a very pretty thought. do you think, one day, that such a thing could come true? dreams were a self-fulfilling prophecy, and yet to hear from aria that she could not see it would crush the sweet-scented flower. she believed wholeheartedly this place would one day be hers, but she did not see such a thing without aria alongside her, as lasher himself had adored her as plainly as deirdre did. she was an open book before aria, and would withhold nothing from her. and it was true, all of it!