Deirdre
A woman once told me that my name sake was beautiful beyond compare; she said it with distain because she could not see beyond the blue. I could see written in her high born Lanencrestii face that she believed that I like my name sake would die broken hearted, or perhaps simply alone. Men enough have seen past the knots of color, if only for the blood that runs underneath. For that I am sorrow, and teach them that I am also fear and rage. Few see past the blue to see the soul.