Rah rah, ah ah ah...yeah I have it stuck in my head.
Moth kept his eyes mostly on the ground ahead of him as he walked. He hoped the other members were as kind as Shawchert. He probably wouldn't meet many if any of them. Being shy and all, but if he did he hoped them to be as nice as the one beside him. When Shawchert mentioned his mother taught him, Moth couldn't help but think of his own mother. He did his best to not look over his shoulder as he had a habit of doing.
"I-I heard ye. In the w-woods before. Ye play well." Moth had tried to carve something once when he was a pup, it had been hard and he gave up fast. So naturally he was slightly awed that the beautiful thing about Shawchert's neck was handcarved by himself. From what the large one said it seemed that the group living here was pretty diverse. Moth smiled quietly to himself, catching the smile on Shawchert's face, he wasn't good with expressions, but he knew that one.
"O-originally? From tae Heelands of Scotland." His accent came through a bit too much on that one. He had to work on that. From the few he had talked to in his travel with his mother others seemed to have difficulty understanding him if he had a thick accent. "Workin' on gettin' rid o the accent. S-sorry. The highlands of Scotland." He repeated a bit more clearly.
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