[ She's her... well, her consistently surly, silent self that she has been since she arrived here. Still grieving somewhere low in her stomach for her secrets, personal as they were rather than revealing of the side she been allied too. At first not by choice, but now by vexation as much as honour. Oh, they had assured that; she would never swear to them.
Still, she's here to be pleasant, if removed and distant. Plain compared to the decadence that swirled around. A sickening display of wealth that she could not recoil more from, but in the severe way that comes with nobility, she can endure it with a particularly bored air.
Then again, sitting with her back straight, hands in her lap, watching the party-goers, there is something familiar to it. A daughter of the Brahmin Caste, and a Queen wasn't permitted to throw herself so freely into such things. Even if she was rather lost of most of those habits: where her pride in herself is about the only thing she has left, where they had wretched her secrets from her, she defaults to that stiffness. Eyes sliding over the others impassively. Watching him just the same, he seemed - quite gone with the festivity, enough it seems to ask her of all women to dance.
Which for one thing - she wasn't the best at that kind of dancing. She knows the steps, mostly, and being a swordswoman helped, but she had learned only from the women in the brothel. Half steps in an effort to blend in with them. What her soldiers did, so she always tried to partake in. ]
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Still, she's here to be pleasant, if removed and distant. Plain compared to the decadence that swirled around. A sickening display of wealth that she could not recoil more from, but in the severe way that comes with nobility, she can endure it with a particularly bored air.
Then again, sitting with her back straight, hands in her lap, watching the party-goers, there is something familiar to it. A daughter of the Brahmin Caste, and a Queen wasn't permitted to throw herself so freely into such things. Even if she was rather lost of most of those habits: where her pride in herself is about the only thing she has left, where they had wretched her secrets from her, she defaults to that stiffness. Eyes sliding over the others impassively. Watching him just the same, he seemed - quite gone with the festivity, enough it seems to ask her of all women to dance.
Which for one thing - she wasn't the best at that kind of dancing. She knows the steps, mostly, and being a swordswoman helped, but she had learned only from the women in the brothel. Half steps in an effort to blend in with them. What her soldiers did, so she always tried to partake in. ]