[ Prior to the event proper, when Lauralae has been given her title and the role she is meant to play, the obvious discomfort on her face is, perhaps, closer to a cry for help than anything else. Dressing up for such formality has been something foreign to her for almost a hundred years, and the idea of dressing in the colours of her former court is something that makes her feel distinctly uncomfortable.

It does not seem to be the same for Alicent, a stranger who's face she recognises from the games. She had never called upon Lauralae's name as one of the wolves, despite the votes against her, and perhaps that might earn some softness; Lauralae does not yet know what to make of all the games.

She still blames herself, perhaps foolishly.

Eventually, she steps over, hesitating for a moment, fingers flexing in front of her like spider legs, before she glances away, shy. ]

I do not know what to wear.