Highlights. There were many.

Whether it was the point where Asil and Tomas tried to start up an impromptu karaoke set (much to the confusion of the Hybrasillians and the dismay of the Terenians).

Or the surprisingly flavoursome food that Ksharta brings out (and which forces Isabelle to switch to water for a while)

Or just listening to Kiriala tell story after story about the famed Shantriala, eyes shining with expression. "[I]I would hang the moon in the sky to make you smile[/i]" it says, and Isabelle steals a glance at her own sky-scape, who is busily stuffing her face with some kind of bread and dip combo.

The whole experience was so strange. There were no speeches, no schedule. The food just [i]came out[/i]. Accumulating in clusters with no discernible pattern other than each piece was different to the other. Drinks flowed freely. But without champagne or wine or any of the other staples of her parents functions.

That wasn't to say Isabelle was a complete shut in - unfamiliar with how other people lived. But even when she'd had events with her 'friends', they had never felt so ... casual. Everyone had always been in designer clothes, even when it was a sleepover, the food was always prepared in advance by the staff. 

And don't get her started on the birthday parties. They were choreographed with all the obsessive scheduling that could be imagined for parents that cared more about the event, photography and social media reaction than the participants. 

In comparison, this whole evening felt like one long highlight. Although, right now, lying on the sofa with her head in Asil's lap, staring into space while the smaller woman teases her hair ... Isabelle has to concede that this, [i]this[/i], is probably the highlight. If only for the scant moment of peace and warmth it brings in an otherwise cold world.

Unfortunately, the quiet gives time to consider other things. The fight that's coming. The one after it (hopefully). Work. Finances. Tomorrow's schedule. Quiet moments were all too often just free range for a perpetually moving mind like hers.

Lurking in the background is the ever present threat of her mother. What [i]is[/i] she up to? The quiet is unnerving. As much as she'd love to believe that she'd maybe heard the truth in Mira's words back at the Gala, and had changed her viewpoint and approach, Isabelle was just too jaded from all the... well, the [i]everything[/i], to really believe that was the case.

Still, whatever plan she had. It wasn't going to take place now, not while she was still winning matches. Not when it might threaten to tank their campaign  No, it'd come when (or if) she lost a match. The moment that her autonomy had no further benefit. The point when Almira's project needed to be brought back into line. 

She sighs.

[I]It's her one last chance. To prove that she's my mother, rather than just the woman who gave birth to me. I wonder if she even understands what she's gambling with.[/i]

Taking another sip of the strong, but pleasant, cocktail, Isabelle buries her face deeper into Asil's side. Seeking just a little more comfort before the next day has to start.