Ravenshook Cliffs rain falls down my cheek, i wish i knew better than i know now

The inky titan had found Doe on the cliffs, crying toward the sea and some unknown force that had beckoned her closer to the edge. He had found that they often brought him the things that he needed most, and after his confrontation with the male who had allowed his child to race into his pack lands and had attempted to follow with little regard to the leviathan’s wishes, he felt as though it was a needed escape from the realities of what had happened.
 
Of course, the water had returned the child. He had anticipated that she would have been food for the sharks, but her golden figure had washed ashore and been discovered by his Atoll. The witch doctor was doing well in her tasks, and she always seemed to be around when Skellige needed it. The decision to have promoted her was a wise one and one that he did not have doubts against – not even in the slightest. Doe had continued to work hard and to prove herself an asset to the Blackrock. She was the reason that he had trailed back to the cliffs in search of answers or signs… perhaps even another gift.
 
It had been while he had trailed the edges of the treacherous drops that he heard the cry into the wind; a cry that brought back memories and caused the brute to cant his head to the side, bemused. The voice was familiar but he could not register what the words had been. His tall ears swiveled toward the sound of the pale woman’s voice and he trotted carefully, wondering if it was wise to have sought her in his current mood.
 
When his dark gaze found her figure, he breathed deeply and stepped forward to draw himself closer to her figure. As much as he had found himself irritated with the empty promises that had been made, Skellige still found himself curious as to why she would seek the cliffs. The closer that he became, the more he saw the distraught nature of her being. Deirdre was not well.
 
Picking his steps, the titan closed the distance on them and chuffed quietly before moving to allow his dark coat to brush against her side. His russet gaze sought her emerald one and he frowned to her, creasing his features downward. “What…” but his words trailed. “What are you doing out here?” he had wanted to ask, but also, that portion of him that still cared deeply for the witch of the wood was ticking away at different questions. “What is wrong?”
 
“What have you done to deserve this grief?”