The Sentinels we travelled the wide oceans, heard many call your name

family welcome!!! this will be the thread deirdre says her first word! dated today.

there was a new change, and it had come, but deirdre had stepped away from it and for four days, remained utterly silent except for speaking in her nonsensical babble with her sister. it was the next step, but something had held her by the nape and provoked her tongue to still itself. perhaps it was simply her observational skills that caused this degree of quietude, but who could be sure?

to do this thing would be to lose another, but what that other was she wasn't quite sure, she couldn't remember. as of late, deirdre would move to snuggle into their family and listen, open her mouth as though she might say something... and then close it, and continue to listen, like the thought had never occurred to her. to her sister, she murmured a quiet, sweet and tender, emaleth. and then she knew she could do it, bolstered by her sisters name, confident she would not fail the next time. perhaps it was her fear that caught her tongue.

it was around evening time, and deirdre sprawled atop her sister and harassed her with adoration. at that moment, a dark shadow filled the den. whether it was her mother or her father was lost on her, or even her brother! that it was dark meant it was not the wolf she now knew as 'eilidh', or her sister. she poked her older (but not oldest, evidently) sister with her nose, whispering something in their language, before she sprinted to the denmouth and hollered out a loud: athair!!!

her eyes twinkled with their knowing, and the word bubbled from her lips and laced it with all the love she possessed for the being. if it were her mother, it would have been just the same, but as he had been the latest one who had been absent for some measure of time [more than she preferred] it was him she thought of now.

*cough*

athair.

it was never a title that lasher had ever thought would be given him, not at the height of his tearful wandering. having left julien and cruel love behind, the then-young druid had ranged far -- only by the breath of a blessing had he wandered into siku's encampment and tied himself immediately to the witch. he thought of her far less often, but she still traversed the hall of his memories.

it was a small word, but held within itself all the promise of the horizons just beyond the summerset limit of his visions. and though the drifts still lifted themselves up at his very threshhold; though the soft flakes of white floated down to obscure his vision; though the win'try wind still combed iced fingers across his nape and flanks, he was warmed by her, warmed by the piping little voice and confident stance of his growing daughter.

and he was also reminded anew of his mortality, and the very possible idea that his little witches would be the last children born unto him and the willow. this was not necessarily a grievous thing, but it forced the druid to ponder what years were left to him. 

his eyes were alight with a fond fire as he gazed down at the babe; deirdre; witchling. 

"iníon."

what r u trying to do to me ???????????????????????? *meltS* love lana love love and that song :')

the babe hadn't any idea of things such as age, such as true sadness, such as anything her father might find detrimental or put him in misery. thus far in this life she had only been exposed to happiness and love, and it was all she knew how to give. deirdre looked to the man—it had been the man, after all, to come inside—with a sweet and unending love, something without bounds or words or that ever needed context. it simply just was. and it always had been, for as long as she could remember! there might have never been a day when she was uncertain of him or the others that had held them daily in this burrow, because she herself did not remember it.

as he regarded her, she let out a delighted sound of utter happiness. the word he had spoken was a word for her, and for emaleth. it was a good word. she knew what it meant, even if he had not translated it. they would be fluent in the old tongue as they were in the tongue of the residents of this world they lived in, here. deirdre gave no pause or moments respite as she reared and hopped on her hind legs to cover athair in adoring kisses, the sort only ones littlest iníon could give. her little tail whipped wildly behind and unbalanced her, and she sought purchase on her fathers leg with paws disproportionate to the rest of her.

she came to give him kisses; he laughed and pretended to fall beneath her loving onslaught. his heart soared with love for little deirdre, and for emaleth; he lay back upon his back and gathered her into his arms, close to the cadence of his heart beneath the dark fur. and there he rested for a moment, the swift hummingbird-beat of her little soul fluttering against the steadiness of his own spirit. such moments were these! they must be cherished, they must be treasured, sanctified as they were now in opposition to the wicked cruelty of the outside world.

his witches would be educated in glen-tongue and julien's french; they would have their mother's knowledge of herbs, casmir's adventurous tutelage, eilidh's loving guidance. in this would they thrive, but lasher knew he could not control their fates, nor alter them. such would do a disservice to the individual and independent characters of his dark witch and his light, which he knew to be strong only by way of their parentage. 

he was quiet, contented.

deirdre did not struggle against his fatherly embrace, and as she rest against his chest one ear pressed against it, and she heard the drumbeat of his heart. here she stilled, the sound soothing and relaxing her. if she could never move from this place she would not be sad for it. it was the same with her mother. it was a sound she recognized intimately, a sound she had heard so many times before. his was different than her mothers, and so she sought to memorize the patterns of it, the way it beat, the lovely rhythm that sang of the glen.

they were both quiet, she nestled and warm upon him. her breathing lined up with the beating of his heart, and her lips curled upward in a sweet smile. even her own heart seemed to change its tune to drum steadily alongside his now, so that they would share yet another thing. she could not move; her attention was honed to the sounds within him, so much so that she was unaware that she existed outside of that realm and was not inside him herself. she very much so felt a part of that world, then.

give birth to her he had not, but in this moment he felt as keenly as one might holding the very fruit of their womb. their hearts sang the old rhythm together, and he felt his tiny daughter relax trustingly. so sweet was that! that she placed such conviction in the testament of his love for her, his oath to protect with his life his sweet children. he felt the familiar pang of fear for constantine in his breast -- had he failed to protect the boy?

for as much as he loved emaleth and deirdre, they would never replace the dark prince with laughing eyes who had departed them to seek out his own place in the world. beneath the tiny pearl, his chest shook somewhat with a sob before lasher closed his eyes and calmed himself.

it was only when his heartbeat stuttered with the sob that deirdre felt any unrest at all, and she slid forward to look at his face. his eyes were tightly closed, and deirdre—still unable to utilize tone—murmured softly, sadly, athair, as though she knew precisely what he was thinking. her blue eyes were piercing in their seeming omniscience, but as it were she did not know what was in his heart of hearts—that he then thought of constantine, and that the twin of casmir was not with him caused his heart to ache. if she did know it, she might curse the missing brother then for his lack of regard for the man she loved the most! athair, she repeated again, her voice sweet and warm. her voice was honeyed, sticky sweet, but not quite so thick as the golden substance. she moved to lick his nose, her eyes scanning his closed ones.

his sob disturbed deirdre -- he preened his little witch, parting his lids to gaze up into the concerned infant blueness of her gaze. "i am all right," he assured her, his chest lifting her perch heavenward before he rolled to one side and deposited the child gently upon the soft floor of the den. he planted a kiss between her small ears and granted a smile to the girl, then across the den to slumbering emaleth. 

such pain passed, and would lessen with time. and while constantine would never be replaced, taltos now had his smallest brood to busy him now.

while she did not expressly understand the meaning of what he was saying, interpretation still a work in progress, she calmed as he did. he placed her upon the earth and they looked to her sleeping sister at the same moment. she contemplated what could possibly make her father have felt that way, and looked to him again. he seemed better now, but she rose to all fours to move and cover him in kisses as was her favorite thing to do, just in case!

he accepted her kisses, smiling beneath them as he did always -- she was a sweet-hearted little cupid, and taltos fervently hoped that this would continue as she grew older. however, it was also his wish that such a sugared nature be tempered with intelligence, even cunning. however, deirdre would have many years to find herself and discover what it is she would be. "little witch," he teased, pretending to nip one tiny ear.

deirdre continued to dote on him, and as he spoke she smiled. she was deirdre; she was 'witch'. she would answer to one as she would the other, for deirdre and witch had become synonymous. his nip had intentionally missed its mark, though her ear flopped forward as his chin swept against it. the babe hummed happily, and again spoke, athair, so that he would know for certain she knew him, and loved him, and always would.