Ankyra Sound Pressure

the iron guardian embodies the title as he makes his way through the sea at the unfamiliar summons that had cut above the lazy call of the gulls bobbing in the waves.

with blackwater about to welcome new life, he tightens his patrols and when he breaches the shore, using the push of the waves to his advantage, he sloshes out of the tide without pause.

seaglass gaze zeroes in on the stranger, scenting thru the salty brine that he has mostly become desensitized to the unfamiliar scents upon her pelage.

the keeper does not embody warmness, nor welcome. his gaze is hard and as cold as the frothing waves behind him. he does not speak, favoring a familiar silence and the rise of his brows and tip of his scarred muzzle to do the speaking for him well? lingers on his body language; expectant.