Qebhet was not a party creature at the best of times, and she was still regaining her strength after her run-in with the soul eater a few weeks before. If the invitation had come from anybody else, she would likely have succumbed to the urge to just slip into her PJs instead and curl up in front of the TV with her cats. But she liked Hecate, and, more than that, she owed her a great deal, so it seemed only polite to come to the ball, even if only for a few hours.
Most of Qebhet's dressier clothing was more suited to funerals than anything, a fact that she really didn't think was as depressing as every single person she'd happened to mention it to seemed to believe. She had let it slip in front of Hathor a few years ago, ahead of a revel the goddess was hosting, and Hathor had been so horrified that she'd immediately dropped everything and declared she was taking Qebhet out dress shopping and she was not taking no for an answer.
The dress they had chosen together had cost altogether far too much money to be justifiable, and Qebhet loved it. The gauzy layers of peacock blue silk organza and tulle reminded her of Mother Nut's firmament, and the flowing skirt was intricately embellished with constellations, picked out in silver beadwork and metallic thread. She had found a silver rhinestone mask to match it, which she adjusted with a touch of nervousness as she stepped into the entrance hall.
She was rather relieved to see she wasn't overdressed. She'd been quietly worrying about that.
Qebhet gravitated to a refreshment table, selecting a glass of cider as she cast an eye about the room.