Zahra Watched Myriam Quietly For A Moment, Her Dark Eyes Thoughtful, Like She Was Piecing Together The

zahra took a deep breath, steadying herself as she met myriam’s eyes. the weight of the conversation, of the very woman they discussed, pressed on her chest like a stone. she was careful, always careful, but there was no denying the tension in the air now, thick with the lingering presence of a past neither of them had ever fully embraced. the volantene woman was a thread she hoped would remain unraveled, but it had been tugged, and now they were caught in the weave.

“myri,” zahra said, her voice soft, almost soothing, as she took a scooted closer, the firelight casting shadows that flickered across her calm face. her posture was relaxed, but inside, her thoughts spun in anxious circles. she had to guide this conversation carefully, avoid the tightrope of truth that stretched between them. "i understand your hesitation. that woman, yes… she can be dangerous. but sometimes, danger is something we must face to get what we need. if that’s what this is, if it’s poison we need to counter poison, then perhaps she’s the only one who can help us.”

the dancer placed a hand gently on the other's shoulder, grounding her friend as much as she tried to ground herself. she could feel the weight of the moment—the future of the child in myriam’s arms, the fragility of peace, the unspoken history between them and the woman they knew only as a shadow in the distance.

“i know her, yes,” zahra continued, her voice steady and smooth as if she were telling a simple fact. “heard whispers, firstly, but I’ve only met her once. just once, and it was brief.” she let the words settle, watching myriam’s eyes closely. "she has a way about her, myri. she’ll never be an ally in the way you want her to be, but she might help us, perhaps our cause will resonate with her." her gaze softened, but there was something unreadable in her eyes. "there may be a price to it, but we can handle that. i'll get in touch with her, i promise." she swallowed.

gently, zahra placed a hand on myriam's arm, her voice soft but steady. "enough about her for now," she said, trying to shift the conversation, to ease the tension that had tightened the room.

her gaze dropped to the baby cradled in myriam’s arms, so small and delicate, her little face peaceful as she slept. the sight of inaaya was a balm, a reminder of everything that mattered. “look at her,” ahra said with a soft smile, her eyes warm as she looked at the newborn. “she’s a reminder that there’s still hope. you’ve just brought her into the world. you’ve done something no one can take away from you. she’s going to grow up in a world of your making. and you’re already shaping that world with everything you’ve done and will do." she offered a reassuring smile. "and i will always be here to help you."

❂

myriam’s fingers curled tighter around the bundle in her arms, her daughter’s warmth grounding her amidst zahra’s words. her eyes flicked to the fire and back to zahra, narrowing slightly at the mention of cost. everything had a cost—she knew that well enough—but there was a part of her, stubborn and unyielding, that hated to hear it out loud. clarity? peace? how much would those cost, too?

“peace,” she repeated, her voice quiet but crackling with a tension she couldn’t quite mask. “they always say it’s for the children, don’t they? for leila. for inaaya.” her gaze dropped to the baby’s tiny face, soft and unburdened. “but when has peace ever come easy in dorne? when has it ever come without someone taking more than they’re owed?” and for a moment, she found herself thinking about the reality of her life. the scandal which swirled around her name, the backlash; how she had chosen to be with someone for an attempt at happiness.

and in the end, she had birthed their child in his home alone; with only zahra by her side. had that been for dorne too? how that could have ended up being the end of her story truly made her sit and disassociate - would her possible death, a cold corpse on bloodstained bedsheets, have been the ending she deserved? an anticlimactic, quiet death.

she shifted inaaya in her arms, her free hand brushing against the baby’s hair, dark like baashir’s. like her own. a storm of thoughts swirled in her mind, zahra’s measured tone clashing with her own fiery impulses. trust, power, cost—she hated the way those words hung in the air, heavy and inevitable.

“i don’t want her,” she said suddenly, her voice sharper now. “that volantene woman, whoever she is, she sounds like poison wrapped in silk. but maybe that’s what we need. poison to counter poison.” she let out a harsh breath, her frustration spilling out like water over stone. her chest tightened at the thought of leila, her firstborn, who carried the weight of a legacy myriam had only started to understand. and now inaaya, so small and fragile, already bound to a world of politics and war she couldn’t escape.

"do you know her?" myriam asked, her question direct as she looked upon her close friend. her closest friend, by the navigation of life. "for some reason i thought you did." somewhere in her mind she could have sworn she saw the two talking, though she could be wrong. she was probably wrong.

zahra’s laughter, lighter now, danced in the cool evening air, blending with the soft rustling of leaves in the garden. the flickering torchlight cast shadows that seemed to stretch like living things, but the warmth of ophelia’s presence kept the chill at bay, like the first rays of dawn chasing away the dark.

“you’re too kind,” zahra replied, her voice playful but gentle, a soft smile curling at her lips. “i only speak the truth. you make everything feel... alive. even the quietest of moments become something worth remembering when you’re near.” she shifted her weight slightly, her fingers brushing against ophelia’s, a silent reminder of how much she appreciated her friend’s steady warmth. “besides, who else could make feeding the birds sound like the most important thing we could do tonight?”

as they walked together, the night seemed to loosen its hold, the tension in zahra’s chest gradually easing. she took a deep breath, letting the cool air fill her lungs, and for the briefest moment, she could almost forget the restless unease that clung to her. she could forget that this evening, like so many others, felt like a fleeting moment, an escape that would slip through her fingers before long.

“maybe you’re right,” she said softly, her gaze turning to ophelia. “maybe the parrot would follow me home, and we’d spend hours explaining to the court why i’ve adopted a feathered advisor. though i do think he’d be more trouble than he’s worth. you, on the other hand,” she added with a wink, “are far more useful, even if you might steal all the fruit.”

zahra’s fingers brushed nervously against her dress as she watched the gentle sway of the trees in the breeze. the question had been on her mind for some time now, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that it was something she needed to ask.

“you know, ophelia,” she began slowly, her voice softer now, “we’re similar, in a way, aren’t we? we both travel, chasing different things, different causes. you heal, and i dance, but we both leave pieces of ourselves behind wherever we go.”

she paused for a moment, her heart fluttering with the weight of her own thoughts. the garden seemed to hold its breath around them, and she felt a fleeting sense of quiet before speaking again.

“i sometimes wonder if… i should stop,” she confessed, her voice quiet, almost hesitant. “not because i want to, but because it feels like i’m always going. like if i could just settle, just once, maybe i would find something more.” she smiled softly, but there was a trace of uncertainty in her eyes. “but...i don’t think i actually desire to stop. it’s like a part of me is afraid of what might happen if i ever did. i don’t know if i’d be content with it, or if the restlessness would eat at me, like it’s always been there, underneath.”

she let out a small sigh, her fingers grazing the petals of a nearby flower as if seeking grounding in something so simple. “i think it’s more the idea of being still that’s hard to hold. i don’t know what i’d do without the movement, without the dance, without the road ahead. but sometimes… i wonder if there’s a place, a time, when that feeling would fade. when i could simply be, without the need to go anywhere else.”

.

ophelia beamed at zahra’s words, her smile bright enough to chase away the shadows flickering along the stone walls. “you think so? i like that—‘finding the extraordinary in the ordinary.’ it makes me sound like some kind of grand storyteller rather than someone who just cannot seem to stop talking.” she laughed lightly, but there was gratitude in her tone, touched by zahra’s observation.

as her friend spoke of the night’s heaviness, ophelia gave her arm another gentle squeeze, a silent acknowledgment that she understood, that she felt it too. there was a careful balance to be held between giving someone space and letting them know they weren’t alone. ophelia had always danced that line instinctively, always ready to fill the quiet when it was needed, or to simply be there when words felt too heavy.

“then we won’t let it end quietly,” she declared, mischief creeping into her voice, mirroring the flicker of light returning to zahra’s expression. “dancing, wine, music—all of it! but first—oh! feeding the birds! zahra, that is a marvelous idea. the absolute best.” she nodded eagerly, as if it were the most important decision they had made all evening. “and if that clever little fig thief is there, i will have words with him! not scolding words, mind you. just a very serious discussion about sharing.”

she tugged zahra forward with renewed excitement, leading them toward the gardens, where the cool night air would be fresher than the heavy tension of the great hall. “and you know,” she mused as they walked, “i do think you would have charmed the parrot. i imagine he would have followed you straight home, and then where would we be? stuck explaining to the court why lady zahra sand has a new feathered advisor.”

she laughed at the thought, glancing at zahra with a playful glint in her eyes. “maybe we’ll find another one someday. until then, you’ll have to settle for me. not that i am feathered…..or a great advisor….but still just me”

Aditi Rao Hydari in Heeramandi (Netflix, 2024)

Aditi Rao Hydari - Tarun Vishwa (2022)

setting: when the campus announces the alumni are snowed in for at least the foreseeable future, zahra, who is normally energized by socialization, finds herself a bit more agitated due to the presence of a certain someone who's she's found herself having complicated feelings for ; @myriamas

context: that someone is armaan lol

blizzard wear did not suit her, zahra preferred the garments she wore freely in california, the sun on her tan skinned golden rings upon her fingers shining in the sunlight instead of hidden by gloves. that alone, had already put her in a mood, but across the room with all the chatter, she caught glimpses of armaan yronwood, occassionally looking her way too, but also, towards a popstar in their midst.

she spotted myriam and quickly jumped up from her seat, whilst one of the bartenders wasn't looking she snagged a bottle of red and held it within the coat draped over her arm. "myri!" she called to the other, approaching her. "i need to talk, and drink, and talk. come with me?" she gestured to the wine grasped in her other hand.

the golden lord’s words elicited a gentle laugh from zahra. lady he called her though she would not correct him. she found it fun when people did not really know who she was or how she fit into place. it made interactions like this somewhat more genuine. “seems simple enough.” zahra stated, as she leaned slightly back into her seat, hues watching as each card fell and was flipped upon the table until the lord ultimately lost his round.

“ah, what a shame. your coffers must be nearly drained.” zahra quipped in jest as hazel gaze shifted to the other lord now, quietly watching as he played his round. “gods, you have all the luck, huh?”

the dealer turned to zahra now and dealt her two cards: a jack of spades and six of hearts. fingers tapped upon the table as she contemplated her next move. should she not try, she would for certain lose. “hit.” she decided confidently, and her final card was revealed.

it was a five of clubs.

“congratulations my lady, you’ve achieved a blackjack.” the dealer stated, shifting the coins to her side of the table as zahra gave a few claps of her hands. “well it was either try again, or lose for certain, right?” she flashed a beaming smile in the direction of each at the table. “i can see why you lords could play this game all night, that was thrilling.”

@nicholaslannisters

"Lady Zahra," Nicholas said with a wide grin, tilting his head in greeting. He waited until she had taken her seat upon the empty chair before settling again himself. Nicholas leaned over, clapping Percival on his shoulder before giving it a firm, almost excited shake. What was it about the captain, that attracted so many stormy individuals? The mysterious northern woman, Leo Lefford, and now a star-spangled knight and dark beauty.

"I may be bleeding gold, my friend, but bleeding for a lady makes any outcome much more enjoyable." His words were met with another thunderous laugh as he released the Valeman, and the Heir of Lannisport tossed a hand up to a servant to indicate another round be brought to their gambling table.

"The game is Blackjack." The servant floated over as he explained the rules, setting the drinks upon the table. The dealer that ran the table nodded his greeting to the new participant, and quickly dealt Zahra into the game. "Twenty-one or bust, my lady." Nicholas said, his thick eyebrows waggling as he took a heavy sip from his cup.

His voice humorous, but the truth was, Percival Templeton had been busting him nearly broke.

Nicholas turn came first, and as the dealer flipped a six of hearts and a Jack of spades face up in front of him. "Sixteen," he said, and Nicholas couldn't help but groan. Already, the odds weren't in his favor.

"Hit, or stay?" The dealer asked. Nicky knew he should stay, wait it out and try for some luck. But with the arrival of their new opponent, he waggled his eyebrows again instead. "Hit."

The dealer flipped his card over, revealing an eight of diamonds. "24, my lord. Bust."

Nicholas slammed his hand down on the table, making the chips jump upon the surface. His face twisted in mock annoyance, before his loud laugher returned again, and he tossed his gold coins upon the table. "Another bloody wound…" @percival-templeton

"of course." zahra replied, tone taunting as she gave a wave of her hands, as if to say that everything about her was on the surface to read, as if to imply that is all there was to her, but that really wasn't the case, only what she hoped seemed to be. she thought she was likely predictable as she was flighty, but there was more that lie beneath the surface of the dancer of salt shore, should one decide to dig deeper.

frame floated nearer to him now, close enough to observe dark orbs more closely, one's she found herself ogling at as a young girl in the halls of yronwood. she was not a girl anymore, but the intrigue with the man before her remained. there was some darkness about the man, no doubt a cloak of the tragedy of betrayal that befell him, but she was the sun, eager to shine her light, if only a moment.

"yah jaanane ka abhaav ki vah kab hoga, manoranjan ka hee ek hissa hai." ( not knowing when that will be is only part of the fun. ) zahra insisted, head tilting slightly to the side, a half-smirk coming upon the corners of her mouth. a hand shifting the silk skirts of her golden lehenga, even standing still for a brief time seemed impossible for the woman who's feet never touched the ground.

for that is what there was to zahra sand, she did not have roots, she had wings, and the woman never seemed to perch for long. where some believed it to be a downfall, she found to be a gift. not many had the opportunities she did, and while she was a bastard, there was privledge in her birth. she often had the opportunities to experience both parts of their world.

her arms folded over her chest now, suddenly stilling, the very cogs of her mind clearly seen moving behind hazel hues. "aur vah kya kaaran hoga?" ( and what reason would that be? ) her tone was on the brink of being almost challenging in her inquiry.

"he is well, and i am sure he would be glad to hear from you, my lord." though zahra did not pay much attention to such business, she knew enough from the letters back and forth from her to her father. "i have been so busy i would not know much of his affairs. I prefer to deal in pleasures over business."

dancingshores​:

there was not a room that zahra could walk in and not become acquainted with someone, in this instance, it was many someone’s. though she much preferred dorne to any other region of the realm, the dancer very much enjoyed the presence of people, and in these circumstances, one’s she could learn much from. she found the culture of others to be fascinating, if not to realize how much she preferred and loved everything about her own, from the music, to the food, to, frankly, the very people themselves.

she wasn’t quite sure how she managed to find herself in the center of a circle that formed, perhaps it was to prove a point, or to simply give in to the pleads of reachmen to grace them with one dance. zahra did not really care either way, she enjoyed any opportunity to showcase her craft.

and so there she was, golden silks of her lehenga flowing about her, like waves within the sea. there was a faraway tune playing, but the sounds of bangles gave way to her own melody within the song. chestnut curls seemed to float about her in their own beat, and in her mind she was transported, as she often found happening when the room around her became nothing more than an assortment of lights and colors. a small grin played at her lips as she made her final spin, hands that were raised up slowly falling back down to her sides as the small audience that had formed gave their applaud.

a familiar figure suddenly approached her, though it did not seem so sudden. she had caught sight of him earlier in the evening, recalling a time that seemed not so long ago when she visited the halls of yronwood. she was young then, and found herself quite absorbed with the handsome lord. much had happened since then, and suddenly that time of her life seemed to be within another century entirely.

“mainne aapakee nigaraanee ke bina kaee jagahon par nrty kiya hai.” (i have danced many places without your watchful eye.) a half-smirk tugged up at the corners of her mouth, her spirited, independent nature somewhat taking over for a moment. “yadi aap chaahen to dekhane ke lie aapako kisee bahaane kee aavashyakata nahin hai.” (you need no excuse to watch if you’d like.) her not returning to the center, however, as another tune began to play gave her answer for her, and the crowd began to disperse.

“it is nice to see you, lord yronwood.”

꙰

“is that what you have been doing all these years? dancing your heart away?” he asked, arms crossing over the breadth of his torso. flighty, as flighty as the golden silk threads upon the skirts of her lehenga which twirled as joyously as the small slip of a smile that crossed over her features. he heard the sounds of her anklets jingling, and for a moment there was something abut her that strangely resembled the features he saw of the princess on a day to day basis. the lord of yronwood merely looked upon her, and there was a hint of a challenge within his own dark orbs: they were devoid of the storm that usually lived within them, swirled and thrived within them. a different type of darkness as he looked upon the half smirk upon her full lips; though he said no words. 

“ek din tum itana ghoomoge ki ruk ​​nahin paoge.“ (one day you’ll spin so much you will be unable to stop.) these dancers all seemed entirely flighty, wishing to find their purpose in their life - looking for something to make them feel alive, whilst walking away from a sense of stability. hedonistic were some, and perhaps that was because they could be.

in recent months this woman had made multiple trips into the fortress of sunspear, directly into the apartments of the princess and the future heir of dorne: dancing lessons, were what he supposed the important business was. in years prior, she was the spoiled, pampered daughter of lord gargalen; dressed in the silks he acquired as a result of his hand in the clothing and textile trade. the bloodroyal took his money seriously, even in his youth: he looked at what trades would be the most beneficial, where would be worth investing his coin. 

“koee bahaana nahin. kisee kaaran ke baare mein kya?“ (not an excuse, but what about a reason?) he remained stood to the side of where she had stood in the middle of a circle that clapped and applauded her; the sight amused him. the sight made him want her. 

it were as though nothing had changed when he looked upon her: to live life weight free, to live life as it was supposed to be lived. he did not envy her. for things that were light were easily swept away. they needed something to hold their weight, something to keep their feet firmly upon the ground: armaan had realised that he was entirely content with his position in life. stepping down from the council in which he only but clash with the prince in all but name, disagree with certain methods: and yet now, dorne was taking the time to heal. finally. “how is your father doing? i have been meaning to reach out to enquire as to the textile trade. whether it has been impacted by movement across the narrow sea.” he asked.

they toyed between their own tongue, and the common tongue. as though what else was spoken between them was to only be understood by them, and those who knew it. 

there was an intriguing opposing force to the lord before her, who was so much her opposite, from their very demeanor, to many beliefs. it was almost a strange balance to converse with him regarding the stars, amongst other things, and zahra found herself compelled to understand more about the way he thought of things. in some way, she resonated with the perspective he held, despite the way zahra's optimism seeped from her, she was very aware that the world was not so kind, only that it were her best defense within it.

hazel hues watched as he prepared the shisha, the air already filled with the fragrant aroma from the coals lit before, it were hard to believe they were not in their own domain when this very room felt like home, in this moment. though if she looked closely at the decor around it, she would quickly realize it were not. hand reached for the goblet of arbor wine, finding it becoming more and more to her taste as she sipped the liquid within, allowing it to settle on her tongue a moment before swallowing.

the seer was an open-minded woman, as evidenced by her acceptance of the other's beliefs, despite clashing with her own. she did not expect everyone to see the stars and read the cards the way she did - and perhaps had life treated her differently she would've thought it foolish to lay ones fate based upon some planetary alignments at birth, based off some chance of pulling a specific card to detail one's life in that moment. his question made her think a moment, eyebrows pulling inward. "it's possible, but i would say it's not ideal to." she replied, setting her goblet back down on the table before her.

figure moved from sitting on the lush rug back to the velvet seat across from his own, still tucking her legs to the side, finding a relaxed position as she had before. "i don't think i'd be able to be unbiased with what i see." she added. "yes, well, that was a foolish lesson i certainly learned. as much as i enjoy it, it's difficult to deliver bad news, or even accept it." elbow propped up on the arm of the chair, chin resting in hand. "the tower is not one i usually care to see, but followed by the star?" zahra gave a sigh. "at least there's a light at the end."

his answer was brief and simple and yet zahra found herself further pulled by it, whether it was because she wasn't sure if he would answer at all, or if he would admit to having something he believed in. "fair enough." she responded, a hint of a smile on her features as the wheels fo her mind turned once again. "do you, perhaps, think rebirth is simply another chance, rather than a punishment?"

꙰

i hope to see it unfold for you. they were words that were uttered so calmly and casually, in the epitome of what it was to represent the milk and honey of human kindness: his gaze lingered over her features slightly in the aftermath of such words being uttered, almost as though his storm of a gaze was attempting to work out what it was she would get in return for such a belief. such a thing was a rarity, to see genuine human kindness was always enough to make him slowly pause in his process of thoughts - for whilst he believed himself beyond such capabilities, he had always held respect for those who maintained kindness in the hardest of times.

regardless of circumstance and past. he would defend the right of those to be kind should they wish to be, however unwillingly or unexpectedly he found himself doing so at times: armaan was of the understanding that not all had the same cards dealt to them in life - they were all different shades and hues, not only in their skin, but in their true self. whilst he held a great respect for those who maintained a firm grip on kindness in their lives, he always maintained that there was a time and place for such things - for there were times where kindness could prove to only disadvantage and undermine.

such was the tragic nature of his position; it was all too well to idealise the concept of kindness, but where did it fit in a world such as their own? when she maintained that she would have no issue in remaining, he merely nodded; he would not take to his bed anytime soon, and would have no issue in staying awake. and he wanted to stay awake. "do you ever draw your own cards?" he asked, a genuine sense of curiosity coming over him as he looked over at her, moving to the other side of the room to organise for another hookah to be brought up, alongside the coals and the splint that was needed to light it. "or does that go against the conduct of seers?"

he set it up with a sense of ease, rolling the sleeves of his black kurta up to his forearms as he did so to ensure it did not catch and end up igniting him, listening as she spoke to him of her altercation with a sailor. people did not like hearing what it was that unsettled them, even if they had asked; and sailors were known to be rough in their nature. his brow furrowed ever so slightly, extending the new pipe to her - this time there were two. "none would wish to see the ten of swords. but if one asks for it, they have dug their grave." he spoke, sitting back down opposite her now; leaning backward to rest his back against the recliner. "and do you try to avoid thinking of it as you pass on the news?" he asked; considering she was the bearer of such awful news to those who had sought guidance from the stars.

at her question, his brows raised slightly - perhaps because he had not been expecting a question based on his own beliefs. what was it armaan yronwood looked at for guidance? he did not remember the last time he had genuinely asked for guidance from the gods; that was not to mean he did not worship or believe in them. he valued them, and worshipped them for their sovereignty. "the seven who are one." he responded, his tone almost anticlimactic. "we are bound to be reborn, until the gods decide we have done enough to join them in the heavens. no punishment that is not another life in itself."

the dancer of salt shore had spun about the room, chatting with other guests of the evening and dancing to practically every tune that had been played this evening. she was making her way back across the room when a familiar voice beckoned her to sit with them. turning to see devani toland, a grin crept upon her face. in truth, it mattered not where most nobles came from, whatever squabbles were between them were not necessarily under her radar. figure slid into the chair across from the woman and plucked a golden goblet from a passing tray to partake in drinking dornish red. from the flush of the woman's cheeks, she had already indulged in plenty that evening.

zahra did not enjoy being within the walls of the red keep, almost suffocating in which it was flooded with tresses of silver any which way one would look. she would not really pretend to be entirely alright, either. the death of the qamar of the tor had wounded her more than she allowed herself to process at this point. this night in particular felt heavier, though perhaps it were the full moon that shone brightly in the night sky. regardless, believed she simply needed to get through this visit, and when they were back in dorne she would float around aimlessly, for a while.

"something good?" she snorted, a hearty laughter escaping her, almost to the point of hysterics. "well, if you can avoid the valyrians," zahra leaned in, attempting to be quieter in those words, but failing entirely. "some of these nobles are actually alright." she shrugged, taking a long sip of her goblet now. "i even played a game of cards with a couple of lords, pompous as they were."

@dancingshores

"come and sit with me." there was an air of finality to devani's voice as she beckoned the other woman over. it wasn't her way to watch the room, to weigh up her options before engaging in conversation - once her attention was caught, devi acted upon it. "have a drink. nothing dampens the spirits more than drinking alone, no?" she gestured to a jug of dornish red she had commandeered.

she missed essos. dorne had not been her home for so long that she hardly even considered herself dornish anymore. she was a child of the sun and the sea, at home wherever she found herself. her blood ran hot, her passions hotter, and she followed every whim as it rose within her. those whims were telling her to flee once more, to go back to the life she had when she abandoned her homeland the first time.

and yet, here she remained.

she allowed a brief moment to settle, to drink, before launching back into conversation. "i've been away from dorne for too long. if i'd have known things were this bad, i'd have stayed longer." she laughed, the sound edged in something a little bitter. "tell me something good. i'm not sure my little heart can bear much more doom and gloom."

setting : during the dornish lockdown, this is before amaia sees zahra speaking to a volantene woman ; starter for @opheliafowler

there was a gray aura that seemed to wrap around the golden court of sunspear this day, though it seemed to have been everyday since the night the moon went down. the wound felt as raw as the day she had heard the word's uttered from the princess regent's lips regarding the fate of rashid jordayne. and ever since that day, the dancer who floated about like a kite in the wind had remained utterly still, fixated, as if a storm had rolled over the sunny day that was her normal demeanor, and had not quite cleared. even attempts to move through her grief, at times, only intensified it. and so there were times where feet did not move at all, where the sound of bangles had ceased entirely.

zahra hoped that would change today, was certain the stars had showed her justice and peace would be achieved. it was written wasn't it? she had thought, until what was to be a trial, was suddenly an execution, and the court of sunspear collectively raised a brow at the assumption of their guests. then the prince called for the palace to be locked down, and the dornish court began to engage in intense conversation with those of volantis.

the dancer of salt shore had moved from her father's side, who had uttered words into her ear that sent a shockwave down her spine, eyes unable to stop glancing towards a particular volantene woman, a paramour of one of the lords engaging with the martell prince. hazel hues were still fixated on her when she accidentally bumped into someone.

head pivoted quickly to see the image of ophelia fowler, and an audible sigh left zahra's lips as she kept her gaze fixated on the lady before her now. "sorry." she murmured, bringing her hands to cross in front of her lehenga as discussions around the room began to grow louder. "it seems our guests are unaware of our customs. i'm feeling entirely uneasy about this whole thing." she stated, perhaps wanting to find a sense of commiseration in her feelings.