faderift | (OPEN)

Entry tags:

(OPEN)

WHO: Josephine Montilyet & YOU
WHAT: General catch-all for encounters with Josephine in the second half of Wintermarch.
WHEN: the last two weeks of Wintermarch.
WHERE: In & around Skyhold.
NOTES: I've put a post in Josie's journal here for anyone who might wish to discuss assumed or handwaved CR! I would love to get a gauge on how much our characters should know each other. :') Also let me know if you'd like an original starter.

Also, also! I am happy to reply in brackets if you'd prefer!

1. The Ambassador's Office

Josephine's office: located off a hallway leading from Skyhold's main hall, this is where the Ambassador of the Inquisition spends most of her time. She can be often be sighted sitting at her desk, dealing with a pile of paperwork (invites from nobles, letters from dignitaries, you know the sort). Said pile would be taller than her head if Josephine didn't have a very methodical system of sorting them into slightly smaller piles to be tackled. She is very good at her job, you see.

However busy she might look at a glance, she is more than happy to answer any questions passing members of the Inquisition may have, if they're within her realm of knowledge, and although she wouldn't readily admit it, she would certainly welcome the distraction of interesting conversation as well.

Approach?

2. The Herald's Rest

It's not often that Josephine comes out this way, tied up in her work as she usually is, but if you're lucky, you might find the Inquisition's ambassador enjoying a quiet hour or so to herself. You'll find her either seated at a table, quietly disappointed about the state of the Inquisition's wine supplies, or in amongst the people, ears open for any hint of a scandal. Offer your dear Ambassador a drink, or perhaps ask her to join in a game of Wicked Grace?

The choice is yours, although be warned: she is frightfully good at card games.

3. WILDCARD

Josephine can also be found wandering the grounds of Skyhold, be it the battlements or the gardens, or anywhere in between, and if she sees you and you don't seem too preoccupied by something else, she just might come right up and ask, "It's a beautiful place, isn't it?"

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

And now, there is a knock on the door, and when there is an "Approach!", Katniss Everdeen pokes her head around. Nervous would be what she is feeling - but thanks to help from more than a few friends, all Josephine will see is a warm smile of greeting, as the young woman slips in and closes the door behind her. She walks up to the desk, bold as you please, and does a bow that would do any noble credit.

"Scout Everdeen, Lady Ambassador." She states, before pulling herself into a relaxed, easy stance. "I was wondering if I could talk to you about the housing issue we have?"

Josephine shuffles her papers as the young woman enters, placing a marker in between the pages so she doesn't lose her place in the pile. She doesn't believe she's met this particular Inquisition scout before, which speaks to their current strengths - that, and she is still approachable enough even to strangers.

After the introduction, Josephine fixes her visitor with one of her warmest smiles. "Certainly. I will answer your questions to the best of my ability." Having her own quarters as she does, she doesn't have any personal experience of what sort of housing issues the rest of the Inquisition is facing. It will be good to have some direct feedback.

They have more scouts - but honestly - Katniss believed they could always use more. She returned the warm smile with another of her own, before letting her expression become more serious. After all, this was a serious matter.

"I've recently returned from Emprise du Lion, with a number of new refugees. They will return back to their homes, after we've found some way to clear out the red lyrium that is poisoning their region. As I believe many of the pilgrims will, when Corypheus is gone." She paused, then added a little more firmly, "Except that is not going to be for some time, and we have a literal tent city sitting outside of Skyhold."

A pause, and she added quietly, "And it's not just the refugees. Our soldiers, who are growing by the dozens a day, are out on the freezing ground below Skyhold. If we're here to stay, Ambassador ... I think we ought to look into building huts and barracks."

Josephine appears to give a shiver at the mere thought of camping outside in this cold; she certainly sympathises with the plight of Skyhold's newest inhabitants. "For what it's worth, Scout Everdeen, I agree with you." The warm smile she had worn earlier turns downwards slightly, resembling more of an apologetic frown. "It is simply a matter of resources at this point in time. The Inquisition still has a long way to go in establishing itself as a political organisation. That being said..." She runs a finger over the stack of papers in front of her, mulling over her thoughts. "...it would not do to lose our manpower to exposure, especially after everything we have been through. I will have to talk it over with the others."

Katniss listens intently to all this, her lips curving down a little at the edges at the thought of those people freezing to death because of a lack of funds. The last part, though, sets her shoulders up a little higher.

"My Lady Ambassador ... for what it's worth, from me? I'll do whatever I can, to help you with this. I can ... write up a proposal, I can talk to some of the nobles myself, to see if they would be willing to fund this in the name of the Divine and the Herald. I'll even take time off from scouting, to help with the building."

She exhaled, slowly, settling herself, "Please let them know that I'll put in the work myself, so it's not an additional burden to any of you. I know you're all extremely busy people, and it means a lot to know that I can even come to you with this concern so openly."

It's not at all hard to run across Jamie up on the battlements in general, but as of late, when the weather permits, he can be found up there more often. Thanks to Adelaide and her family connections, he's received the gift of a set of bagged pipes from Starkhaven, something that's remarkably similar to the bagpipes that he used to play when he was the piper for clan McLaren, back in his native Scotland.

While it's been a few years since he's done any serious piping, he's more than happy to take them up again - but at the same time, he also knows he's out of practice. So rather than inflict them on everyone else (yet), he's taken to using the practice chanter that came along with the set of pipes, spending time getting back to a place where he feels comfortable playing again. The battlements make for a good, out of the way spot to do this, but it's also a place where he occasionally finds himself distracted by the view.

Today's one of those days. It may be a bit cold, but it's clear, and from up here it seems like one can see for miles. When Josephine comes by, he's got the practice chanter resting on the wall in front of him, one hand holding it in place so it doesn't roll away - and at the question he turns and gives her a slightly lopsided-looking smile.

"Aye, it is grand. Reminds me a bit of what it looks like when you'd go up on one of the mountains back home in the Highlands, only we'd not had any fortresses like that up there. Are you not cold up here, though?"

With a name like the Highlands, Josephine can imagine what sort of place Jamie must be speaking of, even if she's never been there before. Her eyes shine momentarily as she tries to visualise it; ever since she was a little girl, she had always wondered what might lie behind the sea, and to think that there might be people and places even further away? It was all so grand to think about, even if not many people here agreed with her. Thedas has enough of its own problems, and it did, but still. She liked to let her mind wander sometimes.

She can't help but laugh at his question, her arms crossing over her chest as though it had reminded her just of how cold she really is. "I've been cold since I left Antiva. Truthfully, if Leliana had warned me that joining the Inquisition would mean living in the Frostbacks for months upon months, I mightn't have come along." The lilt to her voice, though, makes it clear that she's joking, or so she hopes. Stability is a noble goal, and she still earnestly believes that the Inquisition is one of the best hopes Thedas has, despite everything that's happened.

Oh! I see. Actually, the other person I've met from Antiva seemed to think it was fairly cold here too. Well, that and that he missed the food."

Granted, the mention of 'cold' had more to do with the fact that apparently some of the herbs Zevran also missed couldn't grow here because of the cold, but it still counted, as far as he was concerned. He doesn't miss that lilt in her voice, though, and his own lips twitch into a grin.

"You mean she'd not warned you, though? Think she might owe you a cloak then, at the very least. Maybe even two. We could go find her if you want to ask about it, even."

He's not serious about that part of things, and even though there's only a hint of it in his tone, the small smile on his face quickly turns into an outright grin, albeit one that's maybe just a little bit lopsided. After a moment it fades away, however, leaving him a rather more earnest expression.

"Look, if you do really get all that cold, though, you can borrow mine. I'd not want to have you freeze while you're up here talking with me. Especially if I get started on asking you all sorts of questions."

Josephine gives a fervent shake of the head, as though flustered by the very suggestion. "Oh, no, I couldn't impose on you like that." The last thing she wants is for someone else to catch cold on her behalf. "And I'm flattered to think that you might have many questions for me." For all that she's involved with politics, with the Game, Josephine tries her best to be as forthcoming as her position allows. Honestly, she doubts that there is much about her life that would be of interest to other people.

"I'm sure you must have many stories. Perhaps not as many as Zevran..." She inclines her head, as though acknowledging the likely candidate for 'other Antivan' Jamie has met. "...but nonetheless, if you have the time, I would very much like to hear them."

As far as the cloak goes, he's not going to push the issue...at least not right now. If it does look like she's getting cold, then he might be a little more insistent, but at least for the moment he's willing to let that part of things be.

Her comments, on the other hand, wind up bringing out a slightly lopsided smile on his end. While he is curious about how she's wound up coming to be here, he supposes his questions can wait. Well, most of them, anyway. There's one that he figures he probably should ask, all things considered.

"Aye, well, if you're sure, although I can't say as I'm still not curious about a few things. What sort of stories, though? I could tell you a wee bit about Scotland, if you like, but that's maybe not so exciting as those stories of Zevran's. The more exciting ones came a bit later on, when I started traveling."

Edited (icon edit) 2016-02-14 07:14 (UTC)

After what feels like an eternity, marching orders have finally been given. Ever since returning from Emprise du Lion, Korrin has been eager to return with proper supplies and a lot more people. Those cages at the quarry and the state of the people in them have haunted her waking thoughts and dreams alike for far too long. She's eager to finally do something more substantial than free a couple of cages on the outskirts.

To celebrate that far, the Vashoth mage has gravitated toward the tavern. She doesn't intend to do much drinking while on the front lines, so this is her last chance to enjoy herself for a while. And she's generous about it, too. Familiar faces get a free drink, on her. That includes the Lady Ambassador, whenever she arrives. Surprised at her arrival but none about to squander the opportunity, Korrin insists on taking a pair of glasses of the 'good stuff' -Antivan brandy- over to where Josephine's seated.

"Might I join you?"

The glass in front of Josephine is already empty, and she appears to be deep in some sort of reverie. She's not expecting company, so she jumps a little when she hears a voice that appears to be directed to her, but when she looks up and sees who it is, she smiles and even shifts over a little, in case the woman wishes to sit beside her.

"Of course." She looks over at the glasses. How odd; there's two. "Is - is that for me?

"Of course it is. I hate drinking alone." Flashing a smile, Korrin sits down and slides one over. "And you deserve it, after all the work you've put in getting us back out there. I hated leaving Emprise du Lion in such a mess, but now we'll finally be able to do something about it. So, thank you."

"It's nothing," she says, doing her best to diffuse the compliment with a wave of her hand. Accepting compliments she has recently been experiencing difficulty with, no doubt a reflection of some of the uncertainty that has plagued her lately. Not that she's about to unload those feelings on a stranger, so instead she does her best to be humble and kind. "I am simply doing my job, but I admit, it gratifies me to hear that you think I'm doing it well."

Once the other woman has seated herself, Josephine allows herself a closer look at the proffered drink. Is this what she thinks it is? Yes, yes, it certainly appears that way. There's a gleam in her eyes as she exclaims, "I knew I should've been more direct with the bartender!"

That look brings out a grin from the Vashoth, who takes a sip from her own. "I think he likes to save it for special occasions, but I convinced him this counts. Who knows how much longer it'll be before I leave, and when I'll return. Which is fine; I'm happy to head out there and finally blast those Red Templars into the void."

They deserve no less, after all. What she saw of them before...well. They're no longer human in any sense of the word, not that she can see. And even if they were, what they'd done in Corypheus' name couldn't be allowed to continue. "Your mean I can do that instead of going stir-crazy, so I'd say it's not nothing."

The villagers in those cages won't think so, either.

Sina is up to her usual business, which is to say, tending various aspects of the garden. Today she's weeding, down on her knees and with her leather gardening gloves crusted with dirt.
When she hears a voice, she looks up to see a well-dressed human standing near her. A... beautiful well-dressed human. She just stares for several moments, a pinkness tingeing her pale cheeks, before she realizes she was addressed. "Ah-... ma serran-- thank you. I like to think so." She grins stupidly.

Edited 2016-01-29 19:02 (UTC)

The staring is enough to make Josephine feel self-conscious herself, and she resists the impulse to duck her head. "Oh, I didn't mean to disturb you. I just wanted to say, that is, you're doing excellent work."

"No!" Sina squeaks, then puts a hand over her mouth and looks down. "You're not. I mean." She looks up again, grins, blushes, and then shakes her head and looks back down once more. "Thank you."

It has been a while since Josephine has heard such an exuberant rejection of a compliment; it makes her believe that her appearance was more unexpected than the woman is letting on. That being said, she certainly doesn't want to make her feel any more uncomfortable, so she lets the matter drop, simply answering, "You're welcome. It would be remiss of me to not acknowledge hard work when I see it being done."

Sina just... smiles, quietly, while berating herself on how all her social skills have gone out the window. She takes a deep breath, sighs it out, and looks up again, smiling a bit more reasonably now, but her face every bit as red as it was.

"You're the Lady Ambassador, aren't you?" she asks.

It's at one point when Josephine is frowning into her glass that a barmaid approaches her. Kitty has a friendly face, and little dwarva girls are usually not seen as remotely intimidating, and so she puts those qualities to their best use - smiling sweetly at the woman to take the sting out of asking a question that boils down to What's the problem, anyway, lady?

"You look dissatisfied," she comments cheerily. "Not fond of the vintage?"

Josephine is lost in her own thoughts when the barmaid approaches her, and her eyebrows knit in mild surprise as she looks up. When she notices who it is, she visibly relaxes, looking down at her half-filled glass on the table. "It is not intolerable," she starts, and it's worrying that's the best she can come up with. She'll have to try harder. Fixing the barmaid with her kindest smile, she continues. "Forgive me, it's more than fine. I suppose I am just more homesick than I previously thought."

Kitty's smile in return is perfectly wry.

"You don't have to be polite, you know," she replies with a bit of a laugh. Though it's certainly no surprise, is it? The thought of getting an honest answer from a diplomat is a rather absurd one. Certainly no fault of Josephine's, but it does make things a little harder - Kitty might not be passionate about this job, but that certainly doesn't mean she doesn't want to do it well. "I didn't make the wine myself. I certainly won't be offended if you don't like it.

"What would make you less homesick? What can we get for you, Lady Montilet?"

The answer that comes to mind is glib, but Josephine is of a state of mind to say it anyway. "A fine Antivan vintage," she answers, gesticulating with one hand, fingers outlining the shape of a wineglass stem in the air. "Aged for one hundred years in the cellar of a Dryland vineyard." She lets outs a little sigh, deflating what little puff she had mustered up.

"Nothing we have here quite measures up." Josephine would know. Stocking the wine cellar is mostly her responsibility. There is no-one else to blame. "But it cannot be helped. If we want to help changed the world, we must be prepared to give up some of our creature comforts."

Rather than write or take the door or approach in any manner of sensible fashion- Zevran approaches from the window. Through it, actually, after jimmying it open and perching in the sill. "Lady Montilyet, I have a grievance to share with you."

He says in their native Antivan. It is marvelous to have someone with which he might converse in the language- he's missed it dearly.

Josephine doesn't even have the decency to pretend to be surprised today; who else would choose such an entrance point other than her fellow Antivan? Her homesickness has been afflicting her more and more lately, and is such a pleasure to be able to speak in her native tongue again.

While she doesn't look up properly at him yet, a small smile curves on her face as she replies, "Yes? What is it?"

"None of the cooks know what they are doing." They do not even need specialty ingredients, and they refuse to learn, or be taught. Or perhaps they are tired of him attempting to season the stew when they are not guarding the pot. "They do not know how to make a simple pasta. I have offered to teach them, and they chase me out with cleavers."

That may be an exaggeration, but- His ears droop, his voice formal and imploring. "It was terribly cruel of them."

It paints a delightful mental image in her mind's eye - although she won't admit that to Zevran, lest it encourage him - and she cannot help but laugh a little, although she tries to cover it up quickly with carefully crafted concern. "Oh? That sounds quite excessive. Although, it does make one wonder... just how did you offer to teach them, exactly?"

Edited 2016-02-13 18:59 (UTC)

"By showing them how it was made!" Oh so innocent is Zevran, all dipped eartips and wide eyes. "I did not disturb anything they were already cooking- I have no idea why it is they chose to take such grievous offense."

When he appears in the doorway, Martel occupies most of it; he hasn't gone out of his way to be noteworthy in Skyhold (in fact, he has arguably done the opposite in most things), but he is difficult to miss at the height he stands and the breadth of his shoulders. His habitually slightly wry expression is not unfriendly, though, and doesn't suggest that this unprecedented imposition on the Inquisition ambassador's time is for anything particularly urgent or troubling.

"My lady Montilyet," he says, neatly, "if I might have a moment of your time?"

Josephine looks up as the man enters, fingers stilling over the letter she's drafting. While she recognises her visitor, she doesn't believe they've ever had more than a passing conversation. After a moment's pause, she sets her work down and fixes him with one of her most polite smiles. "Certainly. What did you need?"

"I understand you're our local expert on all matters involving--" a delicate pause, "--trade."

A wry glance; it's less that he has any significant pausing to do so much as he doesn't want to open with something that might sound dismissive of her admittedly broad and impressive skillset and set her bristling before he's had an opportunity to get all the way in the door.

"I'd like your thoughts on the best way to handle something I'd like to sell - without falling prey to anything that might reflect poorly on our Inquisition." A trace of distant irritation, not aimed at her; in Eosia, he wouldn't have to ask someone. (He also wouldn't care about how it reflected on anyone, not unrelated.) "The murky world of commerce, etcetera. Nothing is as divorced from politics as we all piously like to tell ourselves it is."

She wants to chuckle (at the very least) at Martel's very particular explanation. However, she does not know the man very well, and does not wish to offend him, so she restrains herself to an amused smile. "Oh, certainly! I'm glad someone sees things the same way I do." Some individuals would prefer to pray to the Maker in the hope that He would guide them through their problems, but Josephine steadfastly believes the reality is more mundane than that. Wherever there are people, there are politics, and where there is politics, money and information can be traded to gain an advantage of one's enemies. At the heart of it, that is the true nature of diplomacy.

She tilts her head to one side, mulling over the request. "My answer, of course, changes depending on the nature of the something. I understand if it is too sensitive to identify, but I should be able to work even with a vague description."

He leans slightly against the edge of her desk - at its corner, where he is least intrusive into her light, conscientious of not imposing unnecessarily with his broad shoulders and significant height for all that his manner is so casual - to loose a leather bag from where he'd tucked it within his jacket. A negligent twist of its laces undoes it, and from inside he produces a perfect blue sapphire, flawlessly cut to the shape of a rose. It fits to his palm, and for a moment as he looks down at it, his jaw tightens.

He is smiling, nevertheless, when he looks back at her.

"They're all like this," he says, leaning slightly that she might examine it at her leisure without his actually putting the thing down on her desk, giving the bag an illustrative shake with his other hand. Three of them have already been made Wintersend gifts, but - he means exactly as he implies, that he's simply got an obnoxious bag of sapphires. For some reason.

[Bruce rarely comes all the way here, but considering all the recent events that had happened Bruce can't help but feel like he should attempt something to try and help the ever busy Lady Montilyet. She was always working whenever he saw her these days, and with everything that had passed...

He knocks quietly at the door, waiting for a response before he enters, carefully balancing a tray of tea and some snacks that he procured from the kitchens.]

Ambassador Montilyet? [His tone is polite as always, only slightly questioning just to be sure that she's okay with him entering - if she is too busy and doesn't wish to be disturbed, Bruce would take his leave and return later.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

(OPEN)

The Ambassador's Office

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

Wildcard! (pre-rift in Skyhold)

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

The Herald's Rest (pre-rift, the night before leaving for Emprise du Lion)

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

Garden (sometime before the last day of Wintermarch)

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

number two

no subject

no subject

no subject

Her Office

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

the ambassador's office.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

the office!