The Sentinels metanoia

A quiet pause in the lilting melody enticed her forward and into the shadows, dappling her dove-down coat. It takes only a moment for her to spot the other, first by the gleaming embers of his eyes, in spite of the prominence of his figure in the forest. The breadth of his chest and width of his jaw speak of good genetics, his unkempt coat hanging with knots and dreads speak to her more of his ability to embrace life, rather than frittering away time with grooming. Fairy-knots, she thought. Perhaps he was a spiritual creature and even if he wasn't- the fae certainly seemed to like him. 

"Hael og sael," She greeted with a dip of her head. Words she did not expect him to understand, though her tone and air, she trusted, would communicate it as an amicable greeting. "You have a beautiful voice," Her voice was warm, impressed, issuing a compliment in earnest.