Stavanger Bay come wayward souls who wander through the darkness

deirdre was no warfarer, as he was. she was a peaceful cherub who wished only for peace at donnelaith. she had a good soul, and a better heart. fighting was not her way, nor was it the way of donnelaith. 'twas a sanctuary where those who had fought their battles could come to relieve their burdens and rest their weary heads. a place of healers and healing. a place of great magic, and of learning. one and all were welcome in their ranks, and they would be safe in its mystical depths.

the protection of skellige, who she trusted and admired, would keep it this way. seclude them from prying eyes. any wolves that sought to be the enemy would be met by their greatest ally and perhaps soon, her husband. and the wars he fought in, he would come home with his soldiers and be healed by those of his secondary home. they could sleep beneath the trees and romp in the ocean--skellige would give to donnelaith a greater domain. and it was clear he knew of magick. implicitly, she felt he knew that donnelaith would curse the man who broke its witches heart in any manner.

but he did not seek to do this. as he drew nearer, she smiled to him. deirdre took a small step closer to him herself, staring at the great width of his muzzle and then looking to his eyes. good, she hummed. skellige... my older brother, he is protective over me. we must approach it sensitively, she did not think the man before her was in the habit of doing such a thing, and she did not expect him to be eager for this part. if you only wish to broach the subject of... of your intentions of moving here... perhaps one day courting me... deirdre blushed at that, grinning shyly to him. he had made it known to her that she was his special one, but if he had any anxieties in telling another so soon, particularly her brother, she was sensitive to him.