The Sentinels no roots

You're so kind! I am digging you :)

Through all of the difficulty in finding himself in the woods of his mother's birth, the titan wished that he could have felt... something for the loss of it. It was not only in that, but in all things; the warhound suffered from a powerful apathy. He had been raised to know what was right by his people, and how to defend those who had pledged themselves to him, but he had not felt the sting of loss or the touch of love that would have lightened his soul. Once, he believed that he had allowed himself to succumb to rage, but that had even been a fleeting thing that had been washed away with the touch of the sea and the breath of the saline breeze.

So it was when the skeletal titan caught scent of a stranger in the woods that his mind found a thousand different ways to respond. Pride told him that he was to protect the burnt forest; he was a guardian of that which his parents had left behind. Wrath reminded him of the sly female who had attempted to slither her way into the path of Velen and himself, and that there were vile creatures who were capable of awful things. Greed gnawed at the marrow of his bones as if to say, 'this forest is just as much yours as the bay.' But he could not find a means to act on such temptations. Instead, the warhound prowled through the winter wood in search of the unfamiliar.

When he sighted the male, he knew that it was no-one he had known before and no-one who was hunted by him. The stranger seemed as though they were mesmerized by the luring of the swell on the other side of their ashen burial ground. For several long moments, Ford watched the figure with a calculated stare. He did all that he could in an attempt to read the other wolf without having to speak, but found little that he could ground himself with.

The titan appeared much like a reaper amid the dead landscape. It was as though he waited for any sign of life to pass through so that he might collect his debts and move on. With a heavy breath, the massive wraith made move to approach the other. Once he had closed a good deal of the gap between them, Ford released a chuff to announce his presence. It was then that he drew his crown upward and slowed his pace to afford him a moment of observation before he would have been required to speak. The mismatched tone of his eyes searched the features of the wanderer without emotion or need – only to understand.