myrcella clegane.
myrcella spotted the familiar hairpiece in the other woman’s hands, and a blush quickly coloured her cheeks. how it had come untangled from her hair, she did not know - perhaps a problem in her hairstyling. it had been a long night, and such things were somewhat inevitable. at least the lovely golden leaves had been saved from loss beneath the feet of a hundred guests. ‘ thank you, my lady, ‘ she said, offering a genuine smile in return. she could not recognise who was behind the golden mask, but she was certainly striking, in her dark dress scattered with roses. a tyrell, perhaps - though there were several cousins to the lord, not to mention his sisters, and his wife. she was not quite familiar enough with any among them to recognise her based on voice alone. ‘ i am most grateful ; such a precious thing does not deserve to be lost. ‘
she met lady myrcella’s gratitude with the slight of nod and a polite smile, the perfect image of humble magnanimity, gracious as a lady always should be. “ it would be a terrible shame. would have made a serving girl quite happy, though, i suspect, ” she jested, with a girlish breath of laughter. “ i could --- ” she trailed off, raising the hairpiece in an offer. “ if you’d like, my lady. ” there was no way lady myrcella had done up her hair on her own ; a handful of servants had likely laced her into her great golden gown, brushed and braided her hair, twined the golden wreath with golden locks --- but apparently not with the skill required to keep it in place. she might need the help.










