who: @ofgoldengrove where: the dornish ball, susnpear
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There was a haze within the air that went beyond the puffs of smoke that came from this specific corner of the glimmering hall, almost as though it were it's own private room; silk cushions adorned the floor beside each hookah instrument, intricate patterns lining the pipes as ringed hoops of smoke seemed to momentarily fill the air. She had ended up engaging in conversation with some Dornish Lord, if he could even be called that; he spoke more like a holy man, whilst having a woman on his lap.
How peculiar the scenario was when she first encountered it, only to slowly come to realise the words he spoke had a way of sticking with her in a way she did not realise. She only prayed they would stick with her, a flickering candle in darkness when needed.
It was only when exhaling her own ring of smoke did she realise she had seemingly attracted some company, watching the ring rise in the air to slowly disappear before looking into the amused orbs of the golden boy of Goldengrove. Golden boy, who never seemed able to stay put for more than a few months at a time, who had always known his way back home.
It was her that had struggled to find True North in the end, was it not? Not him. Never him, what did Mathis Rowan ever fail in obtaining? Her heart had been one of the things lost within his warm grip so many moons ago, a grip that was caring and affectionate, and yet a grip nonetheless.
Perhaps a part of him would always hold a part of her heart, a sense of affection that had always remained within her; his patience and kindness during the hardest of times and hardest of moments was something she knew she would never forget. They were bonded, they were family; regardless of where that wanderer went off to.
She would be lying if she did not feel a sense of happiness come over her at the sight of him stood there; their last interaction had ended in a goodbye, a hug that was all too short which only led to another one. Perhaps he would come home now, take the place that was always meant for him. They all had their places at the end of the day, did they not?
She remained silent as she looked at him, noting the amusement in his orbs to no doubt be catching her sat with a pipe of all matters, though she said nothing; she did not wish to ruin this moment, this time they would take for one another. They had always been good at living in the moment, lusting for life. He explored the world in ways she could not, and whilst his recallings could sometimes be tedious and long winded, causing her to half playfully snore at times, she enjoyed them. She always did.
Wordlessly, with a smile spreading across her face as though it were the mosaic stained glass of Sunspear itself, emitting a rainbow of colours, she leaned forward to pass him the hookah pipe.