set your heart against the scales, keep your head above the tide

[dashing]

WHO: Ambassador Amsel & others
WHAT: a Herian catch-all
WHEN: through the month
WHERE: Kirkwall
NOTES: closed and open starters to be added through the month, I have a hideous cold atm and am even more forgetful than usual, so if we have discussed something and I've neglected to follow up or set something up, please don't hesitate to contact me.

Comments

Petrana

[dashing]

( Herian's office is not bare, certainly, but neither could it be considered fully populated. She, herself, is not a woman of many possessions. Years in the Alienage, the Circle and then years of a nomadic sort of existence had meant that there either were not opportunities or practicality in owning a great many things. She is not in the habit of spending money, which has benefits for her savings and the occasions when she does wish to purchase something, and some downsides when it comes to trying to make the office look a little less empty.

The windows are open, at present, allowing a fresh breeze to circulate the room, and her small collection of books on spirit and primal magics and other points of study that she has allowed herself to accumulate are on the bookshelves.

Set back in the office there stands a desk, new. It's a large thing, dark walnut wood, the flat panel an inlay of burled wood, so that sitting at the desk allows the working person to feast their eyes on swirling patterns in the wood grain. There is a circular table with chairs around it on the other side of the room to match, apparently the work of the same craftsperson. Elegant, though not ornate. Skillfully put together. It is gratifying to see that the efforts to see some gaining apprenticeships and supporting those willing to take on apprentices have positive outcomes, cautious as she is about becoming self-congratulatory when the project may always be something of an uphill battle for progress.

Sitting at the circular table, rather than at the desk, she murmurs thanks to the member of staff pouring tea for each of them, before they make an exit. It is still very strange to have someone bring her tea, admittedly, let alone having her own office and nicely made furniture (even if she had to pay for the latter.) )

Thank you for coming to speak with me. There are some matters that I think would benefit from further insight, and—

( A pause, as she weighs her words. ) Coming into this position was not something I had anticipated. I have no desire to make careless mistakes and disregard opportunities for council.

( Not that she plans to be naive or believe everything people tell her, either; the point stands. )

[ipseite]

( how strange it is to sit in this office as a guest.

pleasant and placid as ever, she observes the differences with internal dispassion; the new furnishings to replace what had been of her short era, the almost invisible decisions that shift it to a more formal space. a different approach, for a different woman in the job. wise to look to council, wiser still not to blindly emulate what had come before.

though she cannot think the new ambassador had been au fait with her methods, regardless; does not recall that they had particularly crossed paths. with her cup in her hands, she considers what's said. what she might yet say. her words will carry weight, in one direction or another, and she doesn't speak hastily or unwarily. it's with a sense of responsibility that she considers her influence—that none other might consider it still her duty is irrelevant.

she is capable, and therefore: it is. )

I am, as I say, entirely at your disposal. ( as the previous ambassador; as a present member of the division, answerable to herian now. ) Which matters did you have first in mind?

[dashing]

( In a corner, in a little basket, a corgi pup is sleeping soundly. Rather, he was - he looks up, ears still seeming too big for the rest of him, and blinks sleepily as he observes that his human is still there, before noticing the guest and moving to come and say hello with slow, weaving steps.

Herian endeavours not to pay attention to the very endearing distraction. )

There are many matters meriting discussion. I fear, though, that... some timeliness is required in looking to the matter of rifter phylacteries that has been raised. I think it a pertinent matter it discuss with you, though I respectfully understand if you would sooner not discuss such with me.

( This whole "replacing someone very qualified and capable" thing is quite uncomfortable. ) If you should be willing, though, I think establishing which of our present diplomatic connections have had their feelings swayed by rifter and Inquisition efforts that they might lend voices of support to help dissuade the Chantry may be helpful. I have a number of ideas, but I doubt any single one would be effective.

( A moment, and she adds, ) I welcome any questions you might have.

[ipseite]

( petrana makes no such endeavour; she lowers a hand and permits the corgi to investigate it, smiling very slightly. warm—at her ease. she says, still smiling, )

I should sooner you respect—indeed, require—my professionalism.

( these matters will not be resolved by anything else. certainly, she'd be lying if she couldn't imagine reasons why "rifters" might prefer not to discuss this matter with a division head; she could even think of reasons why she, personally, might be loathe to address the matter with a loyalist.

pretending any of those reasons matter will serve only to hand them all gently and courteously from the frying pan and into the fire.

but to details; )

I have been considering the matter from another angle, ( thoughtful, scratching the corgi beneath his adorable corgi chin. who is a good boy. it's you, you're the good boy. ) The Venatori interest in rifters and shard-bearers is well-documented—the abductions, the Vedici matter. We may be as well-served by a voice in support of the Chantry's motion—if, say, the support came from a Tevene voice, and could be perceived as aligning these interests.

Tevinter has much to be concerned about, where go rifters. And we have crossed their paths, and crossed their scions—were I a clergywoman, I might reconsider a stance that could publicly align me with the black divine.

OPEN; Diplomacy office

[dashing]

( This can probably be any time in the month. Odds are that by a couple weeks in her office will be fully set up, but in the two weeks before there might be times where it's looking a little like a work in progress - the furniture is mostly there from early on, but trying to pull together other necessary items can take a little more time.

In the corner near the desk there is a basket lined with sheepskin, which may or may not have a corgi sleeping in it.

Herian for her part, can be assumed to be here at most times, around appointments, meetings, and training... or if Cosima has pulled her out to ensure something resembling a healthy work/life balance, or as much as is possible when serving the Inquisition in such a role.

She may be leaning over a map, going through papers, rumpling a corgi pup's face, lighting candles to allow more light as night descends, or just generally being intense and worky. )

[sulena]

( she makes sure to avoid the more important time of day before approaching herian's new office. it's a new routine that saoirse will have to get used to in her mornings and evenings when visiting her friend, more familiar and unfamiliar corridors to memorize. carefully, she peeks in through a small opening in the door before deciding to step further inside. )

I hope you are not too busy for a friend, Herian. ( she says before a teasing grin blossoms across her face and she takes her hand (the one not holding a basket) and pulls her skirt out slightly, dipping her head. ) I'm sorry-- Ambassador

[dashing]

( Herian looks up from the sea of paperwork she is trying to navigate. Truthfully it looks very tidy, organised, but it is still a number of documents detailing important information, and she feels just faint trepidation on how to grasp all of this, how to do this job to the best of her ability and ensure that is still good enough.

She eases at the sight of her friend. )

I beg of you, do not. I am not entirely certain this appointment was not an administrative error.

[swordproof]

[ Being given the offer makes it so that Six feels comfortable making her way up to the diplomacy offices, a small mabari puppy wandering around at her heels. He's smart enough to have learned 'sit', 'stay' and 'heel' quickly enough, with a good set of bribery, and Six hopes that means that he won't make a nuisance of himself in the presence of someone new. Thankfully, he's come with a name now, one that Six thinks must come hand in hand with a very good sense of humour.

She hesitates at the door, seeing how intense and determined the woman before he looks, but it's impressive. It's something that Six recognises in herself; she'd be something similar, were she given any position of power. She had never been a captain or leader of men, but she's sure she comes across just as stern as she had before. ]

Knight-Enchanter?

[dashing]

( She has no particular reason to know Six by sight, and it takes a moment for the link between the exchange of messages and the stranger presently in her doorway to click. It is the mabari pup trailing at her side that allows the connection to be made, and her eyebrows raise a little. )

I am Herian Amsel, yes.

( Calling herself "Ambassador" still felt strange. "Knight-Enchanter" was the title she had fought for and earned with years of training and dedication. She was not yet sure she had done sufficient work to earn the title Ambassador. )

You are Six, I presume? Please come in.

( She moves around her desk, and gestures to a round table in another part of the room, a vase of wildflowers in its centre. It is designed for many more people than two, but this might feel more conversational than sitting at her desk.

As she draws closer to the table, she holds out her hand in offering. ) Well met.

( Then, a quiet huff-bark, and a head with big ears, one brown eye and one blue, and an exceptionally dopey expression pops up from a basket in the far corner of the room. ) — And that is Franklin.

[sorcerised]

[ Aro appears a couple of days after their conversation. He's a little more nervous about doing this in person, in part because he's never actually been in person with Herian before, but in part because doing anything official with the Inquisition makes him nervous. It exacerbates his general urge to have nothing to do with any of this.

But for now, he quiets that urge. Of all the Inquisition members he's met so far, he trusts Herian. She'd been very honest with him about her past, and he doesn't think everyone would have done that. It makes him feel better about her than most.

He knocks at her door, and peeks inside. He's tall, very pale-haired, and very pale generally, in fact. His ears have noticeable points, made evident when he removes his hat as he enters the room. His clothes are layer upon layer. He looks like he's about to go on a journey, but he's not. He just wishes he was. ]

Hello? Ambassador Herian. It's Aro.

sorry sorry sorry, I was having a real tag struggle for a stretch

[dashing]

( She looks up at the sound of the knock and the door opening. )

Aro, hello.

( Pushing herself up, Herian nods her head respectfully, and gestures to a round table with chairs, rather than to her desk. )

Please, how can I assist you? ( She moves across to it as well, and a tray of tea that was set down only recently, but neglected by Herian as she worked. )

Adalia

[dashing]

It is terrifying how quickly things can fall apart. One moment you can be content, lost in your own thoughts, setting footfall after footfall down to carry you forward. The world spins, the sun rises and falls, and then—

everything changes. Perhaps it begins with a chill across the base of your neck, hairs prickling, cold sweat rolling over your skin. Perhaps it begins with the creak of floorboards in the dark, when you knew you were alone.

Perhaps it begins with the sight of a corgi trotting contently out of your quarters, holding a sock in his mouth, and the clatter of his claws on the stone floor as he starts to happily scurry down the hall.

Sarah

[dashing]

( Herian and Sarah haven't really spoken since that interaction on the network, that could mercifully be called "awkward" and more judgmentally considered "disastrous." To some degree Herian hasn't given it a great deal of thought, with so many other things consuming her time and energy, and yet it still looms in her mind at times, the uncomfortable knowledge that she was doing so badly at understanding somebody who was Cosima's family.

It would prove to make their next meeting all the worse.

Right now, Sarah Manning is enjoying a bath. Unfortunately, right now a corgi puppy, some seven or eight months old with a blue merle coat and patches of tan and white, has made his way into the baths, and is snuffling around for socks. Socks are the best! They're so good.

But not as good as shirts, it would seem. Franklin props his paws up, and is just snuffling around Sarah's pile of clothes, grabbing a dark piece of material between his teeth. )

[coppelganger]

[ Sarah emerges from the bath, relaxed and feeling not unhappy. She's always liked baths as opposed to showers—more luxurious. She doesn't love that these baths are public, but she can deal with it. It's not like she's got anything to hide.

Anyway, she steps out and wraps a towel around her body and heads for the spot where she left her clothes. It takes her a few moments to process what she's seeing—some kind of small animal trotting off with her shirt clamped in its mouth. Another second of staring and she figures out what the animal actually is. A dog? Cosima's dog, maybe. ]

Oi!

i feel like i should make an icon of the corgi for these rare dumbass threads

[dashing]

( For a moment, the dog stops. Looks over his shoulder, shirt in mouth.

And then he looks ahead again, and starts scurrying all the faster, heading out of the baths. )

Colin

[dashing]

Going through the paperwork, she had come across a letter from Colin. They have spoken before, albeit briefly, and Herian is swift in writing a letter and providing it to a runner. The message is brief, just requesting his presence at his earliest convenience, and providing a couple potential timeframes when she would be available. Better to ask when he was available than make demands - for one, she's got little desire to issue unnecessary orders, and he has plentiful work to hand already with running his shop.

Her office layout is a little different from the former Ambassador's, she's still building her supply of stuff beyond some necessities that she purchased; a new desk, a round table in another part of the room for discussion with a few people.

Herian is seated at the desk, working on some letters. She looks up, though, with the sound of quiet, curious whining from Franklin, the pup curled up in the corner, and stands . "Thank you for attending. I hope you are well?"

Cosima

[dashing]

( It is in the hours before the sun has truly crested. Not quite the inky black of night, especially not with the summer sun stretching the day longer, but certainly far from the warmth and brightness of the risen sun. The room is fresh, rather than chilly, and Herian is awake from habit rather than because the light or some sound has stirred her. The heavy curtains of her new quarters certainly see any hint of sunlight off, and it takes her a moment to orient herself in this still-new setting.

Finally having a bed made for two people is, admittedly, excellent. The quality of the mattress is beyond what she's experienced previously, beyond rare nights here and there in finer furnishings thanks to missions in noble estates, and the like.

The bedding has little to do with her hesitation as she wakes - that is prompted by the need to extricate herself from Cosima, which she begins to do carefully, so as not to disturb her sleep. It is less the concern of waking her, and more how nice it is to be curled up with her that sparks the hesitation, and she indulges herself by dropping a light kiss to Cosima's shoulder, before started to push up and away. )

[youwonscience]

[The sound Cosima makes as Herian moves to get up isn't a word so much as an inarticulate sound of protest. She catches at Herian's wrist without even opening her eyes.]

It's way too early, don't go.

[It's almost habitual, with them, but maybe a bit more frequent lately. It's not that Cosima doesn't trust Herian out of her sight -- Cosima didn't go to the tourney, after all -- but she's still more inclined than usual to want to keep her close. (And no more inclined than usual to get up before the sun.)]

[dashing]

Cosima.

( She twists her hand gently, so she can press a kiss to Cosima’s knuckles, leaning down a little closer and running her hand over Cosima’s ribs. )

I need to train. ( Though there is a faint trace of reluctance. Being close to Cosima is comforting, and she enjoys the feeling of their skin pressed together and limbs entwined. ) I can hurry back.

Kitty

[dashing]

( Their first meeting was a little strange, perhaps, but in this world and with circumstances such that they are, it was really not very strange at all. In fact, the assessment criteria for "strange" had been skewed rather dramatically for quite some time.

Herian moves with long, brisk steps. The Gallows is still in the sightly softened light of the early morning, before things have become busy. Inevitably there are those who are already awake and who have already been working for some time, Herian included. Even so, she seeks out Kitty's allocated living quarters, guessing that this hour and that location was likely the most likely place to track her down.

She carries a bundle under her arm, and a corgi pup prances behind her feet. When she finds the room, Herian knocks sharply on the door. )

[rathercommon]

[ Kitty stiffens at the sound. She doesn't have a knife, doesn't have any real weapons. Is there anything she can improvise? There's a pen that she held onto that could do, and her shoes with their high heels. Those could do. Or - a pitcher of water, over there on the table. She could smash it over someone's head. Yeah. That's the best bet, she decides. And so she grabs the pitcher, and slowly approaches the door. Her heart's beating hard, and her head is swimming with adrenaline, and she opens the door to see -

Oh.

She relaxes at once when she recognizes the woman standing there. ]

Herian.

[ The pitcher lowers to her side, and she flushes slightly, hoping it goes unnoticed. ]

Erm - hi. Come in.

[dashing]

Ah.

( She glances down at the bundle in her hands, and nods, stepping through the doorway. That said, she lingers near the doorframe, not eager to intrude into Kitty's space. )

I apologise for calling on you so early. I did not want to miss you, and I anticipated having a Division Head seeking you out around the gallows so soon after you arrived would be a matter of potential alarm or misunderstanding.

( She gestures to the bundle she's holding. ) I wanted to ensure this made it to your hands.

Gwen

[dashing]

( A friendly invitation to visit her and Cosima's new residence outside the Gallows had been issued. It's nothing luxurious, nor does it need to be. It is more that they had discussed moving in together before Herian was issued their new quarters, and with the consideration of her mental state in recent months and a desire to ensure their shared residence could feel like Cosima's place as much as Herian's, and be a reprieve for both of them away from the Gallows, they had continued with the plan.

So here it is, a small but nice place in not-terrible part of Kirkwall, close enough to the docks to benefit from the sea atmosphere and a non-arduous walk, and far enough away not to actually suffer from the business and clamour.

And here is Franklin, scurrying past with something in his mouth - probably a pair of socks, again - and Herian sighs as she lets him disappear into his basket, and sets down a bottle of wine. She has come to expect Gwen to prefer wine over tea. )

I hope it was not too much trouble to find?

note: a few days before the start of the falon'din mission.

[elegiaque]

( gwenaëlle looks slightly blank for a moment, and then hazards, ) It didn't seem to take them overlong.

( she wasn't walking around any part of kirkwall that's not hightown looking for the door herself; she waited in the carriage while her grandfather's footmen, now waiting for her outside, assured themselves they had the correct address and fetched her out. no trouble at all, as far as she's concerned; whether or not the duke's men would agree, well.

it was probably fine. she pours the wine. )

It's quaint. It must be nice not to be obliged to spend all of your time in the Gallows.

[dashing]

It is. I had worried it was an overindulgence once I received word of my appointment to Diplomacy, but... I think it is better that Cosima have a place that can be wholly her own, without attachment to my work, and where I can take time as I need to.

( It still worries at her, the possibility of urgent word for her Division coming when she is not in the Gallows. She had promised Cosima, though, that she would take better care, ensure herself room to breathe. In some ways, having a space removed from the Gallows was necessary to allowing her to continue work. )

How have you been? It feels far too long since we had a chance to sit and talk in person.

( Maybe because Herian is a self destructive work hermit, idk )