*cants her head slightly, green eyes searching your face* *some of the anger (some, not nearly all) fading beneath pure uncomprehension* I... was not aware you felt so strongly. He is my brother—why would you care what Írissë does to him? Or to me? *returns your smile and, on impulse, reaches out to pluck a stray bit of cottonwood fluff from your shoulder* *without a hint of sting or reproach* I should think you would find it amusing, if anything. The proud Vanyarin princess at odds with the obstinate leechvagabondtramp White Lady of the Noldor. It would make for passable television.