[They can't very well have a decent conversation when they can't even use words, now can they? Unable to assuage Mita's nervousness with mere emotion, Revan navigates around the garden beds, hot on the trail. She replies to the curiosity with a mental image of herself, a dark-haired human woman wearing knee-high boots and a plain, unassuming tunic and robes in shades of tan and brown, metallic cylinders hanging at each hip like weapons...which, she realizes too late, is her self-image, not what she's wearing right now, the Rivendell elves being given to finer fabrics and far more embroidery than the Jedi.
no subject
Oh well, close enough. Her face is the same.]