"May I touch your hair?" That...probably wasn't the question he was expecting. And yet there it was, and she waited patiently for his response. Meteion wouldn't press on his personal space before he permitted her.

"My name is Meteion. Who are you?" By this point in time, she was at least aware that this was not Etheirys, and that she'd been cut off from her sisters--not such a bad thing, that.

"The people of Elpis didn't wear face paint. Masks, usually. Visitors didn't wear masks. Neither did I. But I was Hermes' creation; familiars and such as I were not allowed, so we could be distinguished from the others." The 'real' people. Though Meteion might argue that she was just as real.