It’s instinctive, the holding still. Generally speaking, if somebody yanks you to the ground and claps their hands over your eyes and mouth, they probably have a pretty good reason for doing so, and most of those reasons call for holding very still and taking stock of the situation. The surprised “Mrmph!” is also instinctive. That can’t be useful for most of those reasons, but he’s two for two now, so it seems rather hard to keep from doing. The quiet that follows when the hands are removed is just good sense. 

Yuki told him a lot about Thellamie. Whatever she didn’t tell him first, he was bound to ask about eventually. He knows about the stars in the sky and a star on the ground. He knows about maid knights, paladins, tricksters, magicians, singers, dancers, and quite a few people between. He knows about the Outside, portal stones, and a few things about the moon. 

He doesn’t know who she is. He [i]feels[/i] who she is. Which isn’t as helpful as a name in some circumstances, but not this one. He feels he should keep kneeling until she says it’s alright to get up. He feels he should take questions of how she got her and what’s going on, and tuck them someplace it won’t be a bother to her. He feels he shouldn’t question why she would trouble to help him either. As a matter of fact, he feels he shouldn’t say a word until she’s done speaking her piece, and until then he should sit here and look at her politely. Look at her suitably impressed-ly? Would she be offended by a quiet “wow?” Maybe hold off on that. Just look, for now. Look at…himself.

But the trick with feeling small is that thoughts can be as large as ever. As she speaks, a few old ones make themselves heard.

That's not him. The voice is the same. The height is probably the same. The face, uncertain. The antlers, he doesn't know them well enough to say. His chest isn't flat, toned, perfectly shaped, perfectly groomed, perfectly lean. [i]His[/i] chest shouldn't be shown. He wouldn't wear a robe that low, and definitely not one so bright. On second thought, no, he wouldn't have that face either. Not a face so smoothed with makeup and eyeshadow framing his lashes. He - and that's just it; he's him. Ugly. Disgusting. Common. Trash.

They aren't him. They're close enough to see him. Far enough to be something and someone else.

"We do, ma'am," and it is ma'am. Of course it’s ma’am, for her. (Yukisearth, that’s home, right?) "We've got both those things. It's just that I haven’t ever looked like that in a mirror before. Which, it’s not to say it’s wrong, no. Nobody at the ceremony got close enough to get a good look at me, so they don’t know much beyond a boy with glowing antlers. Honestly, you’re probably what they’re expecting a Golden Fawn to look like, so, if you wanted to lead them off the trail, this should work better."

Maybe they’d really want to chase a prize like her.