Dragoncrest Cliffs look what you've done

deirdre was returning home from her journey to the creek, eager to be within the forest of donnelaith once again. she yearned for its trees and their whispers, for its streams and its songs, for her wolves and for the herbs she grew within the autumn-turned soil. on her journey she had healed many a wolf as she passed through the area, and she wished to see the things that she had cultivated. she was sure that emaleth had been active in her stead; the ritual, she felt, had reminded emaleth of purpose again.

she would be home, soon. she knew these cliffs well, and moved along them with an inspective eye. the waters were calm, and she thought of skellige, of rannoch, of doe and szymon--had she brought their children into this world, yet...? and then she thought of her own subordinates. she wondered if cas and winchester had found home in the forest yet. she wondered if starbuck had returned yet--she had not been home for their samhain ritual, to deirdre's chagrin (though truly, her chagrin was wholly distress). she wondered also of eilidh, if she was still donnelaith's ghost or if she, too, had found some purpose in donnelaith. her heart ached to think that she might not have... but deirdre was patient for her. even still, deirdre grieved for the loss of lasher. deirdre did not think it something she would ever fully recover from. she wondered about lotte and laerke--how did they fair, in her absence?--and of the lovely flaris, who deirdre thought of with a little smile. and of marcello, the handsome newcomer... how had he been, too? ah, she would see soon!

her step seemed to lighten at the thought. even from here, she could see the towering sentinels. they were impressive, their height foretelling of their ancient age. she nearly broke into a trot when the outline of another caught her eye, and this gave her pause. the peach furs were unique to the witch, who admired them in what little proximity was between them. this admiration was unabashed--deirdre had never been ashamed, or taught to be ashamed, of her love for others beauty. she did not appear to leer, and her gaze was warm. deirdre chuffed quietly to let the other know of her presence, not wanting to frighten her, near to the cliffs as they were!