The Sentinels The Passionate Shepherd to His Love

deirdre moved, wraithlike in the shadowed depths of donnelaith. she heard aria be called for, but deirdre knew the woman to not be around. aria had told the girl she would be searching for a territory to take her new residence in with constantine. perhaps she had told castiel and it had slipped his mind, or perhaps she had not. the pale woman who was giving deirdre her scepter and crown had told her, before her departure, that deirdre could accept who she pleased in her absence. it certainly made sense for deirdre to do so, as in the coming days she would become the true queen of donnelaith.

there was a subtle shift in her bearing. the way she moved was not at all arrogant or presumptuous, and there had always been a regal deportment to her person, but there was something else unnamable, there. she was emerging from her cocoon, she was becoming. the woods seemed to part as she moved 'round a tree and came into their eyesight, and deirdre hummed to castiel with a small, heartfelt smile, aria has requested that i allow others into the fold in her absence, if they are suited, the requirements were truly few; only that the other be, or become if they were not, self-sufficient to aid the sanctuary, and have a good heart. deirdre had not heard the dismal turn in the conversation, but was soft-spoken all the same. still, there was a command to her being that seemed to call for respect.  is this the reason you have called for her? her eyes had held fast to castiel, but now turned to inspect the wolf at their doorstep.