Leona has trouble with expressions.
Her first introduction to human/elven/Qunari/dwarf and other expressions was the quiet, blank faces of the Qunari she first encountered on land (and sometime before then when she was a younger mer).
After that she saw mostly fear, anguish and determination. The people who lived on Seheron were a very determined lot. The war raging across the land, quiet as it was, did little to quell their fear. She will openly admit to having used that fear to get herself along while she gathered her baring. Fear was easy. Find the hole in someone, poke at it till it tore, take from them what she needed.
She turns to Cole or The Iron Bull when she needs clarification. She does not do subtle. Her expressions are very open but they aren’t what people expect. Her eyes flash with anger, her teeth grind turning sharp and angry. Her back hunches as if she means to lunge and nails sharp with the promise of violence. Her face otherwise says nothing, as stiff and unyielding as bark.
Cole will simply tell her. Anxious words when she looks upon a face she doesn’t understand. She isn’t bothered by the fact, not worried more curious, her curiosity seems to translate differently. All she knows is curiosity (She wonders sometimes what they would do if confronted by the things that live beneath the sea. Demons are frightening but they are nothing to the whales, the large tangle of limbs that octopus can be, the large gnashing teeth of sharks). Curiosity, the want to learn has kept her alive even if knowledge is what makes one flee. There are too many different words she does not care to learn but Cole will be there to tell her.
Bull is very forthright but he needs her input to explain things. He doesn’t get her expressions either. She can appear happy in the most dire of situations, at home in a wasteland, angry when confronted with too many people. In Haven she looks mad all the time and despite the clarification that she is indeed content where she is, he doesn’t understand it. Her body dries, she freezes, the colder she feel, the colder she feels. Nothing satisfies her more than contentment. Won’t settle for anything other than her needs. Her needs align with others at times and do not at others.
So she doesn’t under stand the changes. Masks make it worse. Masks make her antsy. Leona doesn’t know how to act when antsy. Her eyes narrow on the lost face, the things she is slowly learning. In all her years, so many, many years, these are the things that actually draw fear from her. Not the people the lack of knowing. Animals are easy, people are hard. She spent so long alone, hiding, watching, waiting. Sunken ships don’t tell tales in truth. They are shadows. They don’t tell of people in a way she would have understood.
She’s lost here. And that makes her angry