The Sentinels Too much sauce

deirdre was broken, as larkspur was. there was no reasoning with misery, but it loved company--deirdre would not argue on skellige's behalf, for what he had decided to do. only skellige could justify this truly to larkspur, as deirdre could not explain violence, it was not her way. but as the daughter spoke of death, the death of her father, deirdre wept. she knew the feeling of such a loss! her own father, after all, was buried in the earth of donnelaith, gone, dead to the world.

i will never let any harm come to you if i can help it, larkspur, she breathed against the girl, her voice a sob. your father may live yet. the waves carried you back, why should they not have carried him? the ocean is as wide as it is deep--hold on to hope, larkspur. hope is a cruel and beautiful thing, but let us not speak what we do not know for certain, lest the world think that we will it! she looked to the heavens as she said this, casting her mystic thoughts to the heavens: she did not mean this, she does not will it! if mordecai lives, let him be returned... a prayer, before she offered thanks, and looked back to the girl.

she sighed. the man who had plucked you from the ocean... he has saved me, more than once. he and his customs are entirely new to me. he is a warrior, firstly, but he has a heart. i detest his actions against your father, against you, she admitted, wanting larkspur to know this, though i am no warrior, and i do not respond, in the way he does, to those who go beyond donnelaith's borders. he and his wolves are protectors of donnelaith; they ensure no violence comes against us, so that we ourselves may always remain peaceful, skellige is a good man, he means well; he protects. he was protecting... but the wounds she saw to larkspurs person were wounds to her, and she was hurt, and shook with this hurt.