The Sentinels i would die for her, i would kill for her; either way, what bliss

donnelaith's nakedness revealed a rolling fog to deirdre, whom had missed such nuanced things in her time among the colorful flowers. its mist curled in beckoning fingers toward her, and deirdre moved beneath the bare roots of a tree, feeling warm water kiss her ankles as though 't were asking for penance from her. emaleth's spine was clutched between her teeth, and she blended well with the pallid steam that came from undiscovered springs in donnelaith's depths, near the ocean and yet deep within the confines of the forest.

there were rocks a plenty here, and deirdre moved and wandered, looking at the terribly hot waterbeds that lay within. only one bed vibrated in its heat, and deirdre moved that way. it felt right. but everything else felt quite wrong; shadows danced overhead, and leaned ominously o'er her shoulder. she breathed heavily, and felt quite sick; none of this, not a thing of it, was in line with her values of love and life. it was death she spoke to, and in her own bones, young though she was, to ask so much...! it was not druidic, it was dark magick she trifled with. the woodland creatures watched anxiously overhead, and deirdre threw the spine aside, unable to put it within the water, thinking of her father, thinking of all she had been instructed. 

i have failed you, emaleth, i have failed you! and at this, she called to her father, @Lasher; she had great need of him, then, and he was the moon within her sky, as emaleth was the sun, and her mother the stars. deirdre's heart was dark and desolate, and she knew she was in grave need of council, lest she make the terrible mistake of anakin and fall to the dark side.

emaleth had not been discovered, and lasher was beside himself with worry. in the chaos, however, blue willow had returned, and her logical temperament had steadied the druid. he could not abandon donnelaith outright to seek his dark one; he must remain. the once-thick branches of the proud red sentinels had been reduced to wooden bone; ethereal mists rose up from the browned grass, and all the little shadows he had come to love were no more.

taltos stumbled through this skeleton landscape searching fervently for a thread, any trace, of emaleth's scent. here and there repulsive clutches of insects clung to this bush or another, devoted to ripping the last bit of greenery from the forest. 

he no longer cared if he trod upon them, but in his searchings for the little sable witch, he found the trail of deirdre. rage was kindled in his breast that she had run off! that she was unguarded! and immediately he followed it to some eldritch pool of steaming water that flowed below the twisted roots of a willow-tree.

her call rose some moments later but he was already upon her, and his voice was thunder in the distant hills. "deirdre mayfair, come here at once." he looked at her macabre offering and suddenly, somehow, it became clear what it was she meant to do -- what it was she believed. 

"you are not suzanne!" he exclaimed, lowering his muzzle to grasp hold of the bone and he cast it violently into the pool. "do not call upon things you do not understand! where is tachyon? aria? eilidh? why have you run away from them, and why do you not grasp that you must remain where you can be seen?"

deirdre heard his voice, and when she had moved to obey, instead it was he who had come to her. he was a storm that brought as much ruin to her heart as the locusts had in that moment, and as he clutched to the bone she perceived to be emaleth she let out a shriek as she watched him release it into the boiling waters. no! she crowed, her voice raw and wrought with panic, and she looked to him with the very same eyes.

i--i was calling to you! i want to understand! you threw her away, into the waters!  deirdre whimpered, flustered, worried, and not thinking of reprimand. that was her, emaleth! i found her bones and i must bring her back! no one else would do it! no one else would think it! her passion flowed from her lips, and then she broke: but i couldn't do it, i couldn't do it, she was mad in her misery, and spun away from him. she thought of no one but emaleth, the one she was born beside, and the one she believed she must now live without, forever! she could not flee from him yet, however, even though her heart was full of terrible horrors. the fringes of it had begun to blacken, and the one she had called for hope was the one to rip the very word from its groping fingertips.

her cries immediately birthed guilt in the man, but taltos whirled grimly upon her as she confirmed what he had suspected. necromancy! she had not yet seen six months! "who was it who told you that you were capable of such things?" he advanced upon her, demanding with cold stare the name of the one who had whispered wickedness into her ear -- in all his years, he had met only one witch with that power, and it had gone terribly indeed.

yet he turned from deirdre then; he stepped into the clutching steam of the pool and fished the spine from its depths. "this," he growled in hard tones born of fear and anger, "belongs to no wolf, but to a deer. you understand life and also death, yes? when you think your sister dead before it is confirmed, she might as well be. do not think such things, deirdre mayfair. have hope."

and yet he had none, for he had lost much and gained little.

deirdre kept her mouth closed tightly together, not wanting to betray her feathered friend; it had been him who had spoken of it, but he had taught her nothing of its ways, only that it was a dark and terrible thing that required much of the wolf performing it. a shred of their soul, some of their heart, a bit of the dead, and something that yet lived. this was what her darkening heart had told her to do, the direction she had been led in. astray.

as he entered the burning water, deirdre let out a little shriek, her fear for him stronger than her anger. but as he came out of it unscathed and unmarked, deirdre felt the anger return as his tone scalded her. his question asked was rewarded with the earnest shake of her head, i don't!, because deirdre still learned. what were the limits? what could she do with the alchemy she yet knew? ah, but the flowers were dead! to hear that the bones were not emaleth's was a sweet relief, but she felt sick, sick that she might have pushed that upon emaleth, sick that her father might think of her as lowly as she felt of herself. the babe was stiff and quiet, and so she hoarsely croaked, i want to help find her, but did not look at him, so ashamed was she.

his heart softened -- he could not help it, and he settled before deirdre. "i am sorry. your heart means well," he murmured wearily. and he had raised his voice to her! at her! his innocent child! lasher felt self-loathing raze him from within -- he attempted to catch the wide, teary eyes of his little one, wishing to take her into his embrace but there was a guard 'round her now.

"i know that you do. she will be found, but i cannot lose you also, deirdre, and that is why i was so upset. and you must not dabble in magicks you cannot possibly handle. that will come at a later time, such strength, but this -- this is a wicked art. to bring back to the dead is unnatural."

his voice was pleading; forgive me spoke his murkwater gaze.

she was but four months, her mind not fully able to wrap around the gravity of what she prepared to do and yet perceptive enough to know that it was terrible. his weary voice was regarded with a suspicious squint and a sidelong glance, a very what, now? expression taking hold of her face. he had hated her but a moment ago, and now he was soft again! she looked swiftly away when he spoke again, she listened but behaved aloof, behaved as though maybe she were not listening at all. her ears betrayed her as they leaned in his direction, interested in how he would proceed.

he denied her! deirdre felt her lips part, ready to protest, and as he went on they sealed themselves together. ...well, then, let me search with you! or you will lose me! the babes protest was weak; she would never willfully disobey her father, and yet! the thought went on as he spoke so far as what she could and could not handle, and then deirdre looked to him and held his gaze. she did not know how to articulate it, what she thought, but she looked away sharply and again without response. for deirdre would always do what she thought to be the right thing in her heart, would always do whatever it took for her family... and yet, the goodness in her caused her to murmur the softest, okay. and she would not; not until she understood it, having heard a loophole, and catching its thread. wicked, though! so if that was her, and she was... she did not say it, could not! it would be a wicked thing, to bring her home to us again? to make her live.

she seemed a child who had lost her way, but in the next breath, she was more timeless than himself or the witches who had come before him. never before had lasher so wished to join her in working with that craft -- he knew the energy of spells, and their power, but save for a few simple chants, he had never attempted to call down the elementals or offer succor to the ghosts that had roamed the glen as they did now.

the chirpings and cracklings of the devouring insectine multitude would drive him mad before this was all over -- his jaw tensed as he tried then to focus solely on deirdre. here was a witch before the instrument of witches, and taltos was torn between mentoring her and quailing before the latent strength that had been apparent in deirdre from the very beginning.

"yes. it would not be emaleth who returned. it would appear as her, but it would lack the core of what it is that makes your sister." he was ill now; his gorge rose at the thought of emaleth's dark little body lying somewhere, her spirit gone, her fur trampled by locusts! he rose unsteadily. "come. come with me." surely this place was cursed now.

deirdre pursed her lips at his words, but the cool expression did not detract from her lovely features. the face melted to nothing as she repeated the words softly and knew them to be true. a frown came in its place, and her eyes shifted to the water that frothed just before them. she could have wept, and a tear did form from one eye, but she stubbornly blinked it away. her frustration was reaching its summit, and her heart was torn! to resurrect was wrong; she would not dabble in it, in knowing this. at her own core, deirdre was good and gracious. wickedness did not tempt her, though her lack of understanding certainly did put her in a place where she still must weed her way through right and wrong.

the locusts around them continued to hum, and deirdre thought of the ones she had brought to an end and closed her eyes in a brief silent prayer for them. though they had destroyed her friends and took them too soon, how was she better than those who had done such a heinous thing in acting as they had? and as he prompted her to join him, the witch looked to him. no longer was she angry; her heart was sad and ached too much to have much room for it. so dutifully, and willingly, she obliged him, moving to go with him.

they walked silently, and he thought of her flowers, which had been consumed by the ravenous things. "they shall grow again," he said, knowing deirdre would understand of what he spoke. "you shall have a new, great garden of them," he promised, and he would make it so, no matter the cost to him or the impossibility of it. he would see to it that she did not suffer from what had occurred between them.

"we must find you a mentor. perhaps caiaphas, my companion, high priestess of the sea -- perhaps she has some knowledge to impart to you and to emaleth." taltos could support his daughters in their craft and guide them as he had watched julien do with his fledglings, but to teach? that was beyond him.

she need not ask what he spoke of. her heart broke to hear of it, and think of what had transpired. yes, she whispered, agreeable but saddened that they were gone when they had only just arrived to her. i loved them, my friends. but at least the trees live. and they are still beautiful, a gentle wind tousled her furs, and she looked at a locust that rested upon the wood of one. her heart burst at the sight of the trees kindness, and as a cruel thought came to her and she turned her cheek, she noted tree sap emerging from the wood where she had cast her angry glare. the thing would be fossilized by the syrupy substance, would never move again. she could not find pity or misery at the thought, but she was a child, and her grasp of things that were petty and conniving were lost upon her. still, deirdre looked away; in her heart of hearts she might have wished for this, but once mindful, she was aware that she would not do so a second time.

lasher spoke next of a mentor. she was quiet as she remarked, there is a wise old owl here, that talks to me some-times. she thought of the flowery scarf he had made her, and she wondered if that had survived this, hidden away as it was. she did not think to go to it then; she feared to do such a thing, feared to invite the locusts to dessert. and then he spoke of caiaphas, a high priestess! is she a witch...? she whispered, and then she looked to him. what do you know, athair?

her stare was not lost, nor the sap that suddenly dripped to drown the insect -- he smiled to himself to know that she could find direction and focus within her at such a tender age. and he listened to the lilt and piping of her little voice, and he knew that he must teach her that she could not hide her intentions for magick. no matter how warded one believed themselves, energy reached into the heart and drew out the shadows lurking there. she had not wished death consciously, but in her spirit's core she had wanted destruction.

such power -- he shook his head. "i am not a witch. i cannot teach you, but i can guide your steps. i shall be with you always." an owl. "i met this beast, once upon a time of times. he spoke to me. he told me of you. and caiaphas, if she is a witch, she does not say it. but she is rife with knowledge. this much i know."

she tilted her head as she thought of owl, who had been something of a mentor. she could talk to her father of her late friends, and of the things they could do with her. but deirdre would not, could not. they were lost. she was not yet ready to talk of the things that made her hurt.

you are rife with knowledge, she echoed him, her eyes falling upon him, i know it! deirdre lent upon his leg and looked up at him, imploring him for a taste of his minds nectar. behind his murkwater gaze, deirdre sensed so much, and she wished that he would only just share what he could with her.

she repeated what he had said, but it was a question -- a plea -- a want. lasher hesitated, for he felt truly that he had nothing to offer -- in truth, taltos was afraid to speak, to tell her all that he knew, to teach her. what if he led her astray? she already carried dark ideas within her, though she herself was a being of light. he could never forgive himself if he spoke and tainted her magick in some way.

and so he said nothing of it. "i know very little, my child," the druid lied, and it caused him no small amount of pain, but it was better this way, better that she grow up believing he knew nothing rather than be betrayed by the knowledge that he did, and simply would not tell her.

the fair mayfair babe moved along with the man, listening and heeding him. if he hid something from her, she did not know it; she trusted his words, and her innocence would have her believe that he would never lie to her, for he never had. he knew little, but little could give her much! little to him was a feast to the cub, who desired to know it all. and so she peered up at him, and her emerald eyes glistened as she requested, would you teach me what you know?

wrap up and have a new teaching one soon? <3

he could not resist her -- he looked down into the searching orbs of her scrying emeralds and nodded, feeling his heart tauten with worry that he had done wrong in the eyes of some unseen and judging god. "yes, little bird. i shall teach you and emaleth both."

there was much death surrounding them, but deirdre's brightened eyes shone with hope, with light, with life. with her misery shed, but her heart heavy for her missing sister, deirdre moved with her father. she would search the lengths of donnelaith, knowing its every nook and cranny. emaleth would return; her father had spoken of her sister as he had not spoken of tachyon, and tachyon had come back! so she was quiet and obedient, tender-hearted once more, while her soul sang emaleth's name.