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@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.”
@divineviclence
He was enjoying himself, that much was clear, as he traveled amongst the crowd like a blinding ray of golden sun, glinting and glittering just as much as the chalice in his hand as he welcomed both conversation and dance to most he’s come across. It was a celebration after all, and who was he to decline such glorious efforts to keep himself and the other guests entertained when the wine was this sweet and the music so lovely? If the dragons around them wanted a showy display of wealth and power by indulging the masses in a taste of finery they may never get the chance to experience again, then so be it.
He’ll bite.
Though even with all their delighted efforts to honor and celebrate the birth of their new babe, the temperature in the Great Hall still felt lukewarm at best for reasons he was sure were fair, as the most entertaining thing he’s seen all evening was trip of man painted in a shade of silver that shimmered under the low candlelight falling over the golden train of someone whose face he didn’t care to stop and familiarize. Not really a scandal worth talking about when the chill of years past celebration still haunted the air and allowed rumors to take form like shadows. He didn’t know what to believe. He wasn’t even sure if he cared. And by the time he felt himself come to a conclusion worth having, his gaze had fixated on the crowd to the cut of a face he felt himself gravitate towards step by step without hesitation until he could match her stride, golden chalice still in hand.
“And here I thought you’d abandoned all this fun.” Not a spot of the siren all evening, he had to take note. And in other words: where have you been? “I half expected you to have been cornered by some homely lord.” He teased; poking fun as brought the wine back to his lips. “Glad to see you're otherwise unoccupied.”
Quaint? There wasn’t much Oberyn knew when it came to the nature of babes; often opting to be anywhere other than near them to avoid getting too familiar. Could never really bring himself to coo and awe while a restless babe kicked and cried, wiggling their new weight in arms strong enough to hold while family and friends and other members of court circled around with unbridled excitement he didn’t enthusiastically share. He was better off being a silent spectator who drank his full of wine and ate red grapes from the fragranced hands of those he’d rather be caught tangled in bed with.
“That’s certainly one way to describe the newest heir,” And while following the other's lead, Oberyn brought his own gilded chalice to his lips, savoring whatever contents were left inside before moving his gaze from off all the silk and satin that carefully cradled their current topic of conversation to meet the eyes of company that was much more welcomed. “Don’t give the bards any idea, though. We’ll be singing about shouting babes striking fear in the hearts of warlord men from now until next Winter.”
Ꮺ open starter : currently uncapped.
slender fingers tap at the body of a silver chalice, with coral lips forming into 𝖺 𝖿𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗍 𝗀𝗋𝗂𝗆𝖺𝖼𝖾 at the piercing melody of shrieks & wails coming from the silk-draped cradle. the poised nereid casts a soft gaze towards her nearest company, chewing on her words thoughtfully. “ she's certainly a ... 𝘲𝘶𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘵 little thing. ” it seems that the gods had not bestowed ellaria with the maternal touch, nor the fortitude for infantile rattle. regardless, she remained blissful for her princess & their 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗌𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝖽𝗋𝖺𝗀𝗈𝗇. “ with that pair of lungs, she shall surely strike fear into our enemies, one day. ”