Elia had been deep in discussion with Syrah- the pressing matter of one of her dresses having been ripped the night before when she, the Fowler boy and Daryon had been... distracting themselves from the boredom of Kings Landing.
She was mid-description of the new trim she'd wanted anyway when someone crashed into her. "The gold--Ow" was more or less what came out.
"Mother's mercy," Elia swore softly as Syrah helped her to her feet. Somewhere behind her she knew one of her men-at-arms were trying not to chuckle and she shot them a quelling glare before she looked at the young woman who had knocked into her.
"No harm done," Elia assured her cooly with an assessing look. At least it would be polite to pretend to offer a sincere apology she thought with slight annoyance. "Are you all right, Lady--?"