The Sentinels oh, son, you sold your everlasting soul to the devil

deirdre was compliant, lowering her head to rest it against her forelegs. in starbuck's absence the girl dozed tiredly, unable to think much at all. no, her body wanted for sleep as much as it wanted for water! but then starbuck returned to her again, and the scent of liquid roused her enough to open her eyes.

she listened, again, having no qualms in her dear starbuck's assistance. deirdre drank, and even if she wished to drink until she could not she was slow in doing so. the moss assissted in assuring this, and so did the knowledge that to do so would only sicken her further. her lips were wet with pearldrops of water by the time she finished, and she sighed softly. thank-you, she thought to mention, though to herself she sounded so far away!