Wheeling Gull Isle he hapalua ia o ka honua,

thanks for joining! <3 (just a quick note, Holo is deaf and mute.)

At first, he didn't notice the island dweller, as the russet man had approached from the side -- out of his peripherals. A flicker of red, not that of the colorful leis and plant life on his beloved island but a color that was closer to a gingery rust or old blood maybe, caught his eye. The mute whipped towards the man in surprise with wide eyes, swaying slightly on his feet as the ground lurched beneath him -- or seemed to anyways. 

The man was speaking but he maintained a fair distance, his whiskey gaze careful and watchful from his perch some feet away from Holo. His stance was dominant but neutral -- a clustering of scents carried to the wolfdog amidst a cologne of testosterone. A leader then. 

Holokai lowered his ears, the short appendage of his dark tail curling down towards the space between his legs as dipped himself to stand just a little lower. A chocolate-colored tongue swept over his lip, a guttural, placating noise escaping him. 

I'm not a threat.