Wheeling Gull Isle can't touch it with your two hands, can't find it with your third eye

He remained unimpressed – Komodo, who the dark wraith attempted to remain neutral to if only to allow Aria to lead the life she seemingly chose when she had forgotten her past one – was quick to simply place himself on what he deemed a council. A frown openly marred the Mayfair’s features, and finally, his pent up frustration of the stagnancy of gathered wolves had surfaced, breaking the stoical mask that usually maintained itself upon his features.
 
His eyes drifted out to the others, looking to gauge reaction, but he would no longer hold his tongue – suddenly, the thought of following the wolf before him seemed to become the last thing he was willing to do.. Aria or not. He knew nothing of the honeyed woman behind him, either – wondering why he had chosen her instead of Aria.
 
“No,” he rumbled, his own tone lifting as a flash of his own fire sought to clash with Komodo’s. “Not until you tell everyone what this council represents and what this forming pack will be. Last we gathered, we agreed to a vote,” he drawled, his eyes flashing to the large wolf before him, his own form stiffening as the challenge was displayed. “So who voted for you?”