At some stage in the evening, Makaria had excused herself to visit the ladies' room. Soon after, Qebhet had turned to deposit her empty glass on a passing tray, then whirled back around to find that she'd lost track of Melinoe as well.
It was at that point that Qebhet, who'd been riding high on their triumphant entrance, fell back to earth with a thud. What was she doing here? She was a small, insignificant death goddess, nobody remarkable, barely worth mentioning at all. She didn't belong at the kind of sophisticated, cool-people party where folk drank their weight in gold and had sexy orgies on the couch— oh. Oh, that was happening right there. She... she was just gonna move away a bit?
For a couple of minutes that felt like hours, Qebhet drifted aimlessly, wishing all the while that she was a snake who could shrink away into the tall grass. Everybody around her looked so effortlessly at home, and she couldn't see anyone she recognised.
When at last she saw Makaria emerging through the crowd, the relief in her was so sharp that she didn't immediately notice that anything was amiss. But when the other girl reached her side, Qebhet's smile froze. Makaria looked stricken.
"Makaria? I— Of course we can go, we don't have to— Are you okay?"