The Sentinels the curse ruled from the underground, down by the shore

deirdre marveled at the others words, and hummed. perhaps they were borne in the same age, she imagined aloud. the Old Ones resided here, she believed, dormant and resting well beneath the roots. sometimes they spoke to her in stirring breaths, but their power could be felt; donnelaith, as much as deirdre, was an otherworldly place that truly felt like it was transported from olde tales, when the Fair Folk ran rampant.

as the other spoke of the mountains, deirdre found herself upon one in her minds eye--she fantasized over the waters she spoke of, and imagined them to taste like the air itself, pure and untouched. the healing waters of donnelaith were fresh and sweet, and sated her. i think i should like to see them, deirdre offered, her ears swiveling atop her crown. but deirdre was a forest nymph, made for a place such as this! her heart ached with fear that muses might not never feel at home here--but she hoped with all her being that she would!

the other spoke of meadows, and deirdre knew donnelaith harbored such beautiful flowers past spring that she wished to share the sight of it with her friend, muses; but the flowers slept, as surely as the Old Ones did! the earth around them was still green, the sentinels ever bearing the hue and the coastal plants not to be put to bed, but so much of the brilliant shades donnelaith kept otherwise had closed their eyes to the autumn, and would 'til winter left them.