The Sentinels When the tequila runs out

the name rang like a bell within her. it resounded in her heart as the bright tone changed to a heavy toll. she knew this man; adored him. skellige, she repeated, her tone warm and rich with feeling, he has been treating you well--he is acting as a father might toward you? it was clarification she sought, but she did not press the other aggressively. her tongue moved to press comfortingly and in a nursing fashion against larkspur's temple, but if she was resisted she would not force the soothing gestures. deirdre then nuzzled into the other so that her furs could be used for the other to lean into as larkspur had been doing all along.

sharkbait. spoken like a moniker. deirdre had been warned, by lasher, of the oceans predators; whales of black and white, fearsome and beautiful both, and sharks, who came to wolves when their blood lured them, or else the blood of anything else in the shore-waters. hunting brought them to deeper waters, but it was best to be wary. the ocean was mysterious and deep, as dangerous as it was beautiful. and did they threaten to bathe you in blood? she asked, her mind drifting and unable to fathom it. but the girl before her was so honest and true! she could sense no deceit here, and so listened attentively.

a witch, she confirmed, i will do a spell for you; the moon tonight is waning gibbous, the moon of revelations. should my magick work, you will soon be seized again by your true self, she spoke with conviction, the words themselves a sphere of passionate energy that she pressed, with her charcoal-lined lips, against the temple of her loved friend.