Humans tend to find it strange that cats will often suddenly stop and stare in unusual directions, seemingly looking at nothing at all. What humans don't understand is that the cat is in fact not looking, but listening; the cat has heard something, and is turning its head so its ears are cupped in the direction of the sound.
Implication: If elves were real, they would often as a group swiftly turn their heads to apparently stare at nothing at all, swiveling their ears slightly as they do so
certain species of elf actually use their ears akin to how cats use their whiskers: extending their sense of touch, as well as operating as a signal for what kind of spaces they can fit through. it’s important not to damage the ears of these elves, as it can cause balance issues, and try not to overload their senses by covering them or making them brush against things constantly
ears pointed back and up, those are antenna style, youre dealing with a noble and refined elf, this type of guy: Vey'cothin quirked his chin in the direction of the setting sun, twilight glimmering in the molten silver of his unfocused eyes, momentarily elsewhere - perhaps caught by some passing memory or some errant dust in the light? - and then sneered, yet again, an expression I was coming to think was less Elven and more uniquely Vey'cothin. With a wave of his hand, he turned his back, "My scouts shall return on the hour, with the missing child, no worse for wear. Now, if there is no more to discuss, I have matters of consequence to attend to."
ears pointed out, perpendicular to the head, thats radar type, thats where the freaks live, this type of guy: Ssshrush! The leaves parted, and within them was a wide-eyed face, with a tight-lipped expression that stared down at me.
"Gyah! Hells! Cyro!" I half-shouted, hand still clutching my blade, as our wood elf guide untangled herself from the branches of the tree and dropped to the forest floor in a lump beside me like a sack of flour, and folded herself up to stand, like a sack of flour with a skeleton inside. That blank expression on her face eased into a toothy grin, and I made a mental note to tell Fayte that the 'human practice' was very much not working. "What in the heavens were you do-"
She whipped her head to the south, nose inches from the trunk of the tree she had just dismounted, and stared a hole into the bark. The tips of her ears twitched, and I lowered my voice to a whisper, "Is it the owlbear?"
"Hmn. No. Dryads. An ent who's learning to sing. And... Ah. Hmn. Yes, the Owlbear."
