THE AMBASSADOR'S OFFICE

[theproperglove]

WHO: Josephine Montilyet and YOU
WHAT: Open post for Justinian
WHEN: Covering the first three weeks of the month!
WHERE: Josephine's office; various.
NOTES: Hit me up either via PM or @ziskandra if you'd like an individualised starter!

In a way, very little has changed since Josephine first joined the Inquisition. She spends most of her days in her office, poring over the organisation's correspondence, doing her small part in influencing the world.

Yet, everything has changed, also, and those close to the Ambassador, or just particularly observant, might notice that her work and lack of sleep have been weighing even more heavily on her of late. Although she wears it in the bags of her eyes and the slight slump of her shoulders, Josephine does not allow her exhaustion to reach her smile.

Anyone who enters the office, for any reason at all, will be met with a graceful tilt of the head and a question along the lines of, "What can I do for you today?"

Comments

[theproperglove]

"A favour Sister Leliana greatly appreciates, I am sure," Josephine replies, finally taking a sip of her tea. "As do I. I do understand your misgivings, and Maker knows I've harboured enough of my own." She settled the cup of tea back on its saucer with a tiny clink.

"People will always be wary of what they do not know, and this matter of people from other worlds crossing into ours through disruptions in the Fade...I will be frank. It is stranger than most. My own experiences with the rifters suggest they are simply making the best they can of a unfortunate situation, and we must remember that for however foreign they might seem to us, this world is wholly foreign to them."

She pauses for a moment, looking thoughtfully into her teacup before returning her attention to Gwenaëlle. "What would you say, if you could truly have your opinion be known?"

[elegiaque]

More foreign to some than others, she thinks; the bizarre references some of them make, that man on the crystals shrieking about judicial practise, Thranduil's absurd height and noble airs. Gwenaëlle shrugs, again, resting her elbow against the one arm of the chaise she's settled on, warming her hands around her cup.

"Nothing," she says, and it doesn't take long in her company to see that she's not a good enough liar for that not to be the truth. "What I'm interested in talking about is the Inquisition, and my understanding is that most have not joined it, and those that have--"

A small gesture of her fingers (delicate, bare of rings), "Well, now they are the Inquisition. I hope that my opinion of this organisation is already quite clear."

She does tend to speak her mind.

[theproperglove]

Perhaps Gwenaëlle's lack of pretence would affront a more delicate noblewoman, but Josephine takes no such offence. She is, after all, from Antiva. She relaxes ever-so-slightly, lips tilting into an amused smile as she takes a sip of her tea. "We are nothing more and nothing less than the people who pledge their support to our cause, it is true."

Another sip of tea. "Nonetheless, your opinion has been noted. If I may ask, has the Inquisition lived up to your expectations?" It would be interesting to know whether Lady Vaquelin's had formed prior or after her arrival at Skyhold.

[elegiaque]

"I had none," she says, shifting her robe slightly to display the scarring that rises out of the neckline of her nightgown. (Only slightly; it is a rather diaphanous item of clothing and Josephine didn't come here to be scandalized by Orlesian breasts.) "The work of a rage demon, you know. And with this..."

She flexes her fingers, studying the anchor-shard embedded in her hand for a long moment. There is a reason she has ceased to wear rings.

"I won't pretend to you that it was my desire to come to Skyhold, it'd be insultingly easy to disprove. To be perfectly honest, I'd barely thought of the Inquisition before I was sent here. Between Halamshiral and the rest of the civil war." Halamshiral, in particular, though she doesn't dwell on it in front of Josephine. Or anyone. That loss is not something she's prepared to admit even to herself, even as the wound bleeds. "What I've seen, though."

A small laugh; quiet, wry. "It's rather in my best interests you all save the world. Besides this," a careless gesture of the shard, "I do live in it. Maybe when all this is over and we're long dead, someone will tell a more flattering version, that I knew that before I came here, that I meant to do this work from the beginning instead of just having been mad with idleness and the wish to contribute something useful to something so valuable."

If they don't, though -

It isn't a terrible story as it is. A girl's eyes opened by the sight of the world.

[theproperglove]

While Gwenaëlle's answer is, perhaps, not quite what Josephine had been expecting, it is hardly surprising. It is only natural to be more focused on conflict closer to one's home, no matter what might be happening in the rest of the world. Oh, there are exceptions to the rule but if everyone were a hero, perhaps Thedas woud not need saving. The thought makes her smile once more; it is a tighter, more private expression, one that is directed more towards the depths of Jospehine's teacup than at Gwenaëlle herself.

"Should there be anyone left to tell the tale of the Inquisition once we're all long gone... well. I would consider that a success," Josephine quips with all the brevity she can muster, as though hoping the lightness of her tone will disguise the anxiety that's been gnawing at her all too often of late. She punctuates her remark with a laugh, fixing Gwenaëlle with her smile once more.

"But enough about such matters," Josephine continues with a small wave of her hand. "I find my curioisity on the matter quite well-sated for now. You have my thanks."