The longer Sonja was left alone, the more her nerves wore on her, and the more the anger that seems to have taken permanent residence within the pit of her belly grew. She had practiced walking in this confining attire so that she hoped that she would not look too much the fool, not for Borghast's benefit only for her own.
Feeling confident that she would not trip over her skirts unduly, Sonja then took to practicing sitting in the skirts. It didn't look too hard to do, however the first few tries she sat and the fabric pulled too tauntly over her shoulders and bussom and had to squirm indelicately to loosen. After those tries she found the best way, that she figures, to sit without sitting on too much of the train.
Standing once more, the urge to yank the silver decorations from her body getting rather large now, Sonja moves from her room to the other, simply from boredom. It is now that she sees the cooled mead, now thick as it cooled, and the pastries. Sweet confection is not something that one who hides most of her life gets to enjoy, and Sonja can not resist the temptation of popping one of the smaller bits of sweetness into her mouth, idly wondering why it seems every time she turns around in here there is more food.