The Sentinels captain i'm fine, and thank you for everything

;__;

in the days following lasher's death, tachyon felt number than he had ever before. absence. not just an absence of lasher's, but the absence of feeling. hollow; dried, a notched and pitted thing that would crumble under even a leaf's flittering touch. he had not eaten -- he could not -- for how could something that could not find sense among the senseless cacophony in his head bring food to his mouth? he didn't even know he was tachyon. he knew only dullness.

even little deirdre, sweet and willing, could not extract him from the nothingness that seeped into him and threatened to consume him.

it was during one cheerless morning that he had risen, if only because of deirdre's insistence. he found himself back where eilidh had first brought him; the onion patch was barren save for gentle motes of sunlight. as tachyon looked up he saw a face he knew; broad and dark, silvered with deep murkwater eyes. "lasher!" he cried hoarsely as feeling (feeling of which he had not felt since lasher's death) returned to him in a flood of joy, love, hope.

hope.

lasher smiled and stepped from the swath -- behind him was blue willow's form, svelte and hugged in shadow. tachyon felt a smile embrace him -- but a flicker behind the duo caused him to pause. a dark brindle form, heavy with pup -- and simmering orange eyes set in a dark mask. lusca -- there she was, stirring between a long pylon of brilliant sunlight. "lusca!" he cried out, calling out into the deep forest. he took one step shakily; and then another -- at the encouragement of all those he loved until they surrounded him with their cheerful voices and bright, adoring faces.

and just like that, the druid was never to be seen again.