The Sentinels and the malaprops make me wanna fucking scream

He scoured the deadwood once again, hoping that he would turn up some sign that Nyx had not completely departed the area. As the days drew out, so did his concern. It did not quite seem like her not to pop up somewhere, a watchful eye lurking in the background as she so often did, but to stay hidden for days on end? It seemed doubtful, for even as stealthy as she could be he had always been able to suss her out in time. Of course, it was less likely that she would range this close to the coast and he justified his being there as a means to give her space.

Cool air off the sea greeted him as he guided himself along the wreckage of the timber, the pockets of blackened wood mixing in with the foliage. This place was a usual haunt for a little bit of solitude, which as of late he could have had within the confines of the weald. But even then it was never meant to last as it had in the past—his eyes lighted on a dark figure ahead, but it was not Hydra he saw. His ears perked; Lily was not someone he had ever anticipated seeing again.

"Why so glum, little blackbird?"