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WHO: Josephine Montilyet and YOU
WHAT: Catch-all log for August.
WHEN: Latter half of August.
WHERE: Skyhold
NOTES: There's a couple of prompts but feel free to PM/ping me @

ziskandra if you'd like a personalised starter!

1. THE AMBASSADOR'S OFFICE

The stack of papers on Josephine's desk has grown even larger in the past few weeks, but that does not deter her from methodically ploughing through the pile. Most of the time, she is still keeping her office door open, partly for any inquiries members of the Inquisition might have, but mostly because it feels less lonely that way.

2. GARDENS

While Josephine might not have much time to smell the roses as it were, it does not stop her from spending what little free time she does have in Skyhold's main gardens. It is a change of routine for the Ambassador, who had previously taken to strolling across the battlements when she had fancied a breath of fresh air.

While the Skyhold gardens may not have quite as many roses as Josephine would like, there is, in fact, a larger array of plants than she had expected and they seem to be thriving.

"I did not expect much of anything to grow here," she murmurs as she enjoys the beauty of the scene around her.

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Many, the Outsider suspects, did not truly understand. Now they are forced to. Of course it makes them feel uncomfortable, and the Outsider tilts his head, studying her for a moment. He has had four thousand years of practice -- it isn't terribly hard for him to see someone trying to be diplomatic, someone who doesn't know what to believe or what to do.

"As do I." He would like to see it again when the Templars aren't destroying everything. Tilting his head to the other side, there is a soft hum. "Perhaps you could visit those who returned with us, the mages that survived. I imagine they would appreciate it."

"I would like that," she says quietly, lifting her head slightly from where it had dropped under the weight of her thoughts. "Where are they staying?"

"The refugee camp, I believe. Araceli would likely know for certain." There is a faint smile, and the Outsider lifts a hand and gestures toward his face, his all-black eyes. "I try not to startle anyone who may attempt to call me a demon and attack me for it, so I tend to not stray toward- more public housing."

"I will get in contact with Araceli and ask her for further information." There's a small part of her that wants to reassure him, to say that he will not be attacked simply for being who he is, but she knows she cannot say it honestly, and there is little to be gained from lying about it, so she stays silent, her gaze first flitting to where he'd gestured at his face, to the blood oxen token, then back to his face.

"It is understandable that you would not be comfortable sharing accommodations. Have you found lodgings that are to your liking?

It likely would not settle her any, but the Outsider is used to it. He is feared and reviled simply for being who and what he is, in his own world. Those who honor him, those who use his gifts, are killed for it. Many others are framed for the crime of doing so. Thedas is different only in that he must be in the physical, mortal realm -- but he is more than capable, he believes, of defending himself.

He also does have to sleep, now. That's- irritating, and the question of lodgings receives a slight shake of his head. "I tend to wander. I did not need sleep before coming here, at least not in the past several thousand years. It has been difficult to grow accustomed to, but even when I did sleep, I slept in worse places than a corner in a fortress such as this." Don't worry about him, Josephine.

An unhappy little frown settles on Josephine's face, brows furrowing in unabashed concern. "Even if it is a requirement that you stay out of the way, for your own sake and others', surely there is something that can be done to make it more comfortable..." She trails off as she starts contemplating all the possible options.

For their comfort, more for their sake; he will not harm them unless they do something first. Still, he supposes that counts, and so he does not correct her. "There are a few I do not unnerve overly much, but I believe most already share their rooms or do not have space in their current lodgings for another. But as I said- I have slept in worse places." Yet he won't say don't worry outloud. It is- nice, in part, but it also serves to remind her of the people in the Inquisition more than the players above them, the pieces she must maneuver like a master or risk it all. Those in power often lose themselves to it, but he is always pleased when someone shows some humanity.

"Even if you must be alone," she continues, almost as if he hadn't spoken even though she is addressing a concern he had just mentioned, "perhaps the spaces in which you sleep could be made more physically comfortable. Do you have enough blankets?"

There is a pause, and the Outsider tilts his head. "Define 'enough'. I imagine you mean more than one? Up until recently, when I was forced to acquire more clothing, I had next to no possessions other than a sword I acquired and what I arrived here wearing."

She is so curious about what he has acquired recently, the implied stories in his words, but her concern comes first. "Well, enough to not feel the chill so terribly."

There is a blink, and then a slight laugh. "I must admit- I prefer the chill. The first trace I traveled that was not Skyhold was the Western Approach, and I became quite burnt." Considering he's still extremely pale, it's probably not hard to imagine just how red he must have been.

"In any case, I do not have any blankets, which I suppose is less than 'enough'. I think I would petrify the quartermaster."

To not feel cold at all in a wretched place like this... Josephine doesn't know whether to be impressed or even more concerned. She demurs for a moment as she grapples with her quandary, but eventually settles on impressed, with just the smallest dash of envy.

"If you truly do not need them, I will not insist. I simply though it would improve on your current sleeping arrangements."

There is a pause. He is thoughtful, but- puzzled, almost. When the Outsider speaks again it is slowly, with care and consideration placed in each word. He is testing them all out, uncertain; for someone with as much skill with people as Josephine, it's likely apparent that this is all rather new.

"It is not- so much a question of need. Many things could be done to improve them. It is..." A soft frown, a little shake of his head, and he continues. "I am not accustomed to being offered comfort, or being treated as though I am human. Even when I was human, there were dogs treated better. I do not mean to sound- ungrateful."

"I'm sorry," Josephine says out of reflex more than anything else, even though she knows words will not quite suffice in this situation. It doesn't stop her from leaning forward, eyes still flecked with concern, and it's all she can do to stop herself from wringing her hands under the table. "I cannot imagine what that must be like."

Something like a shrug ripples over his shoulders. There is nothing that can be done for his childhood, and for his existence in the Void- well, he was alone, but he could See. That in itself was something, though the glimpses were often horrible. It was different than the now, and that is both the important part and the problem.

"You have your family," he says, suspects; he tilts his head, looks her over. "Born into money, or at the very least, you were middle class. Enough that you ate well, lived comfortably. There are others in all worlds who were not so fortunate, and many with power in all worlds who would do nothing to help them. You have, at least, offered one person born in such circumstances such kindness." There is a little smile. "Even if he was changed, became something that until arriving in Thedas did not need to ear or sleep. It is refreshing to see the goodness in people -- it was even when I was more apart. It is perhaps even more so, now that I find it- wanted."

She finds it oddly difficult to maintain her usual composure under his scrutiny, and she was sure she would be flushing if she could. Instead, she smiles, not one of her usual smiles of genteel curiosity but an embarrassed smile that goes all the way to the crinkle of her eyes. "It is still not enough, I fear, but it is nice to know that my efforts are appreciated."

She is embarrassed, and he finds it fascinating to watch -- fascinating, also, to know that he is the reason. There is a moment longer of scrutiny and then the Outsider offers a hand, to help her up if she chooses to take it.

"Perhaps a discussion with the quartermaster to obtain some items will help keep you from worrying about me when you ought to be sleeping. Besides- sitting in ones office all day only gives the illusion that you are aloof, unable to be approached. Being seen would, perhaps, do you well."

There is a moment where Josephine merely stares at his outstretched hand, dumbfounded, before she realises what he's actually suggesting. "What, now?" she asks, more out of reflex before anything else because before she can decide against it, she is accepting his assistance and getting to her feet.

"You will worry, otherwise." There is a faint almost-smile. If she'll accept it, the Outsider will change from the hand hold to offering his arm. He's perfectly aware of how the upper class acts, both the polite ways and the less so, but he tends not to do so. In this case, it feels- appropriate. It almost feels like he wants to.

That is true enough, and Josephine acquiesces with an incline of her head, accepting the offered arm after walking around to the outside of her desk.

Still, some anxiety remains. "This will not take too long, will it?"

Not that she doesn't want to give the mages the time they deserve, but leaving her office for too long makes her feel rather... fidgety.

That's a thought to be examined at a later date.

"I expect that depends on you and the quartermaster." He smiles faintly as he says it, glancing at her. "I have no doubt, however, that the ambassador of the Inquisition will be able to finish such a job quickly, and with ease. You will be back to your papers in no time."

The opposite hand reaches over, briskly, daringly patting her on the hand.

"Though I suspect you will enjoy being away from them more than you think. A chance to spar with the tongue instead of the pen, and see what your words have helped to mold."

If Josephine has anything to say about the way he touches her hand, it goes unspoken; she finds, in fact, that she is grateful for the reassurance.

The observation about the level of enjoyment she takes in her work, however, brings her up short, and she cannot help but arch an eyebrow as she glances sidelong at her companion. "It is not my enjoyment that causes me to worry."

But it is not right to take that frustration out on him, who is affording her this opportunity, so she smiles, instead. "I suspect you are correct."

"The papers will remain. And I have no doubt a scout will find you, should you be needed urgently. You have your sending crystal?" He can do verbal reassurance, too -- or at least he can try. Mostly, he feels it's just logic.

But she does smile at him, says she thinks he's right, and there is a slight smile in return. He's bad at smiling, he feels, but it's getting more easy, more natural.

"Do you not spend much time simply walking?"

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