Whitewater Gorge thy waters rise

sorry for the wait!! rambly phone post

The cant of her marred crown was as mild as she seemed, too, and though the eyeing towards her guise was absently noted, airgetlám did not take offense. She knew now her worth: she remembered the learned mannerisms of being looked in the eyes just as any other respectable kin, discover their truths, and after so long without such courtesies now found herself in the presence of ... one born of likewise, learnt mannerisms. Here, at this gorge, she was tethered to no place, and was merely a wanderer in her own right. 

“I do not mind,”  she lent, voice a gentled consideration; a contrast to the marks hewn into her pale masque. There wasn’t anything truer, though — before the many seasons, she had turned a cheek, felt ashamed to to be looked upon with whelphood scars both visible and veiled. It had been an irritance, then. And yet, over all those years, she ... had simply come to accept the glances; the sneaking glimpses, polite or no.

Ears cast away, she gave a curious cant of her narrow skull.  “I am Aurëwen, and ... I assume you are on travels, of sorts?”