The Heartwood i'm a ghost of you, you're a ghost of me

There was a word that was mouthed but no sound came out. Though his interest had been touched with this, Ford did not allow it to reflect in his features. He remained as straight-faced as ever. In light of this, though, the titan moved to draw closer to the pale stranger. Each step brought a new feature into view; the boy was damaged. Though he had done well to create a socially charming facade for himself, the titan was also entirely direct.

“You bite that off, or did someone take it from you?” the inkhound inquired with a careful canting of his crown. He was – of course – referring to the tongue that he assumed to be missing. Surely, most wolves did not opt to mouth their apologies if they were capable of speaking them. Noting that the boy's eye had been brutalized and then poorly replaced with something foreign, Ford assumed that he was dabbling in some dark magic... or he was friends with someone who was.