The Sentinels the sea alone, with its multiplicity, holds any hope

she observed his reaction, and felt accosted by the look in his eye, but did not flinch. deirdre stood taller, in fact, though she did not bristle when his lip curled. she remained soft, though was not moved from her former opinion. his offense was one she raised a shield to, but she could not look at him, so hurt was she, as she replied. i misspoke. i did not mean to command you to anything, skellige, by decree of your sea, nor decree of me. i know nothing of your oceans will, not truly, as she is as mysterious a thing as she is deep. he had cut her to the quick with his reprimand, but she hid her wounds with a regal bearing. i only supposed that, as she had been blessed by the sea, perhaps it had a part in why she had come here. on this, you would know better than me, she admitted, still looking away from him. but she is here, nonetheless. for she has trespassed again, drawn in her fear to the comfort and the power of the nemeton, no doubt, at last she looked back to him. even those without magick in them could feel the forests power when they sought it! yes, it was doubtless that, powerless, larkspur sought any semblance of strength she could find. the nemeton had called her; had brought her to deirdre. her destiny rests between sea and forest. she will decide her own fate. she will run again, if her hand is forced, she predicted, her voice distant as she prophecized. 

deirdre looked toward the direction she kept larkspur, and moved on in silence; they were drawing near, now.