The Sentinels no roots

well thank ye :}

 

Embry shivered, though not for reason of anything palpable that stirred him. No, this was something deeper. Most certainly something he had felt before.

His eyes snapped open. The scent of the ocean grew stronger, it seemed, and for all the tranquility that encompassed his being, he felt just as calm as that of a babe in the womb or a soldier in the heat of battle; floating - suspended - in the muffled depths of maternal waters. All sounds seemed intensified and alienated: his breathing, his heartbeat, and the ghost of what once might have been wind sifting through the leaves of the Sentinels. 

Initially, he detected only the strength of scent from the newcomer. His orbs perused the ashen clearing slowly once, twice, until his heart seemed to freeze. For, at first glance, what he saw was like something out of a dream (or nightmare); something he had only heard in tales from youth. He blinked, and steadily met the male's gaze. He tried not to acknowledge it, but somehow he felt as though he was looking into glass and nothing more. Something about it deeply compelled him... It was almost as though should he only look a little further through the pane, he might make an astonishing discovery.

And so, the crippled grove watched in stoic silence as the gilded boy met the phantom.