(OPEN)

[theproperglove]

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?"

Comments

[apostasia]

"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."

[theproperglove]

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."

[apostasia]

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.