Wheeling Gull Isle left his mark

The man moved like a prideful lion across the expanse of his domain, which Mou appreciated. He hadn't ever been the kind of person to get involved in politics and so, he had only a limited understanding of what leadership was like; his one experience had been at the Hollow which burned to the ground. That had been small, tight-knit, and temporary. It felt right to be an underling, or so Mou believed of himself, and he was glad to have someone like Aiolos at the helm instead.

When the man barked a greeting, Mou chuffed in response. He had meant to return a bark of his own but in that moment the breath in his throat failed, so it came out as something wheezy. The observer dipped his head in a little nod and licked his lips to show his submission and acceptance of Aiolos.

There is a glow to Mou's remaining eye, an alertness, which trains upon the ginger man. The ghost wants to say something substantial. He has a question to ask, plans that have been brewing in that tactical mind of his, but he cannot quite broach the subject out of the blue. The expectant look is one Maegi is used to; she is the only one patient enough to accept the process of a conversation with Mou, at least so far.