Wheeling Gull Isle lana i loko o ke kai sapira,

The fisher kept his eyes trained on the shellfish he was gathering, the sapphire-eyed man almost forgotten if not for the pale silhouette in the Dogo's peripherals. His spruce gaze rose to Ramesses only when there was a flicker of movement, a ripple undulating across the muzzle of the cur as he glanced up -- ready to peel his lips back in warning if the other man had a mind for violence. Instead he caught the shape of a word: empress. He did not completely understand what was said but there was a warning in the other man's stern posture as he skulked away. Holokai snipped his teeth, clicking his fangs together softly, taking a step in the wolf's direction to hurry him along. He was tired of the pompous man disturbing his peaceful servitude. 

Only when the other had gone would he slowly relax his intimidating posture, snorting out a breath as his shoulders relaxed and he swung back in a slow arch towards the tidepool. Limping back to its edge, he would try his hand at securing a few of the harder to catch fish swimming about.