[ he starts to respond to the first part, but then a hand is nearing his face, and he flinches before he can control it, instinctively expecting a blow. he tenses, ears flattening back as the touch remains gentle, fingers tightening around the books until his knuckles ache. it's been a year since he'd been under cousin setheris' thumb. a year, and he still reacts this way to unexpected touch. he wonders, at times, if his cousin's shadow will ever leave him.

he takes a breath, slow and careful to keep it even, and manages a small smile. ]

We fear that we will be remarkable in appearance no matter our precautions. We are, after all, not.. like other elves. [ because he's a half-breed, a hobgoblin, slate-skinned and ugly even in another world. instead of dwelling on it, though, he reaches up, touching the jeweled tashin-sticks in his hair. ] .. These are the only tashin-sticks we arrived with, and we fear we are.. unfamiliar with appropriate braids that do not require them. Our edocharei are not present here. [ and unbound, maia's hair spills in heavy curls down past his thighs, now. the tashin sticks are a necessity to bind his hair in place-- nothing more dainty will hold the long braids, at least not in his unskilled hands. ]