Beleth muses on that idea for a moment, eyes darting around the room, as if trying to imagine her family numbered among them. Deheune is the easiest--she would be one of the older nobility, manuevering Game pieces like an expert chess master, walking among the other nobles like she owned the palace herself. Her father--that was harder to place. He'd probably be in the back, lurking, watching everything but giving away nothing. Her twin would be, naturally, by her side, whispering scandalous gossip and cracking jokes while Beleth tried to keep a straight face.

She can feel a pang of homesickness in her heart, and she turns back to Araceli.

As Araceli speaks, Beleth leans in closer, eyes intent as she listens, before turning down in thought. Araceli is right, of course--and it's a reminder that humans are just as happy to discriminate against each other for any petty reason as they are to discriminate against other races. All she can offer is a short nod, and a quiet murmur of, "You're right. I try not to give them the satisfaction of seeing what their words do."

Now is the time to remember that, to steel herself and show a face that is unafraid. She gives another nod, lips pressing together briefly. "I agree, we spent a long time preparing for this. I just...wasn't sure if it would actually happen. But it has. Those doors are open--and we can open more of them, in time. If we're lucky." And if Beleth isn't lucky--well. Hopefully another elf would be able to slip through those doors she'd opened, and get even further. Slow progress, but stubbornly persistent.