It's lunchtime. Sefora walks, slowly, through the many luxuriously appointed chambers, seeing men and women coming and going, talking and eating and drinking. She doesn't. It is strange to be outside that experience, now and forever. Even if she is fueled by magic, like the angels, like the girls back home said.
And even if she wanted to sit and speak- who would she speak to? What would she say? She's...expecting to need to flee from Cheliax before the end of the Convention, before she loses the protection she has from the Archmage. That is Valia's friend. Valia. She was- what happened to her? Could she ask?
Before she realizes what she's doing, she's- asking-
"Pardon my intrusion, honored delegate."