@divineviclence
There was something comforting in hanging low after being thrown to the masses. A certain reprieve that could only be gifted by one’s own lowly lingering as they circled the party’s outskirts, blending in seamlessly into the thick of the crowd before the bodies draped in the silkiest of shades thinned out just as much as the conversations. Where the dancing ended and the real gossip began.
It was where Jocelyn found herself best fitted, as she could never bring herself to be in the thick of things when she knew herself to be more suited as a silent spectator; someone who flinted between other lonely guests and chatted amongst them while she gorged on fancy cheeses and blushed over wines too fine to remember anything else about them. It was where she felt most at ease when the excitement ran too high and overflowed the celebration, suffocating her until she begged to be excused.
Or at least that was the version of her story she was sticking with for the remainder of this joyous occasion as she hid from company she’d rather not keep by sticking to the gilded walls of the Great Hall with a chalice still in one hand, excusing herself from a lord whom she caught spilling the remains of his dinner into a flower pot carved from gold and still smelled like it until she found herself at a halt with heeled feet brought to an abrupt stop as she stood in front of a face she hadn’t expected to cross.
“Oh,” She sounded more surprised than anything at the sight of someone Ironborn standing so surely before her that any memory of their shared girlhood remained dormant, unable to reach its surface as they greeted one another for the first time within a year. “You’re here, I hadn’t realized.” Hadn’t expected was more like it as the smile that crossed her features felt tight against her lips while she tried to make the conversation light. “It’s been so long I half expected you to be out on water, sailing somewhere far from here on that ship of yours.”