There are many first impressions of the Herald, and Josephine finds herself constantly revising her mental description of her. The first-her lack of confidence. Josephine secretly finds this troubling and, despite her calm confidence in her own diplomatic abilities, she's simply not sure how effective the Inquisition will be with such an uncertain figurehead.
And an elf, no less, she thinks, wondering briefly if she has somehow incurred the wrath of some divine force and is now being sorely tested.
The second impression comes only moment later over an argument about the Inquisition and the best course of action—that, perhaps, this quiet, unassuming woman may be what they need after all. Josephine spends her life analyzing the secrets hidden in the social games other play. The Herald has none. Her calm, clear eyes reflect nothing but honesty. "I don't know," she says when asked if she was truly saved by Andraste herself.
At that moment, Josephine revises her early impression of the Herald. It's not a lack of confidence; simply an uncompromising integrity. No games, no boasting. Just truth, or as close to the truth as she can go. It would certainly make Josephine's job easier if the Herald told anyone listening she was Andraste's chosen, but Josephine can work with this. People always like an underdog. Some people, anyway.
In fact, she increasingly finds that, at least when it comes to the residents of Ferelden, she hardly needs to try. Time and again the Herald retrieves someone's missing Druffalo, or puts herself in between a rift and local communities. She asks nothing in return but support in fighting against the gnawing gap in the sky. Nothing for herself. No games. Josephine worries what will happen if their Herald gets herself seriously injured or killed before they even have time to approach the Breach, but there's nothing to do about it. They need support and they don't have the resources to win it any other way than this deceptively slight, calm woman who somehow enchants everyone she meets.
The nobles, of course, are a different story, but Josephine knows how to handle them. She does try to warn the Herald at every opportunity, though, whom to avoid.
A third impression: the Herald, knowingly or not, understands how to gain loyalty. Josephine has discovered something else, besides the constant self-sacrifice, that makes the Herald such a charismatic figure: an intense and earnest interest in the lives of those around her. It is not uncommon for her to hear a familiar voice inquiring about someone's life back home and how they came to be part of the Inquisition. When she finds herself on the receiving end of such questions, she feels a bit flustered. Lady Lavellan has a way of making one feel like the only important thing in the world. She can't believe the Herald doesn't have something better to do than ask her about her family and how she met Leliana.
Perhaps she just wants to ensure her loyalties, Josephine thinks at the end of the conversation, asserting firmly that she would not be here if her allegiance truly lay with Orlais. Just a simple matter. And the Herald asks nearly everyone these questions.
Still, something in the intent gaze had made her feel...almost like being the center of attention at a ball, but without the games and mystery. For the first time in a long while, Josephine feels interesting.
It doesn't hurt when the Herald bursts in during an argument with Marquis DuRellion, partially mitigating some of the diplomatic conflict. Josephine handles it mostly, of course, but for a brief moment, she and Lady Lavellan make a spectacular team, forcing the Marquis to back down.
There was no reason for the Herald to have intervened, and a slightly abashed lowering of the eyes tells Josephine she knows it, but Josephine appreciates the gesture all the same. If it were anyone else, she might feel slighted, or doubted, or condescended to, but for the Herald, she makes an exception.
It will be the first of many exceptions Josephine makes for Lady Lavellan.
Self-deprecating, humble, frustrating—more traits to her ever-lengthening mental list on the Herald. Annoyingly, she can't even bring herself to be entirely angry about these qualities. Now, though, she finds herself growing frustrated when the woman merely shrugs off any implication that some of the people of Haven were giving her a difficult time. Josephine tries to ask delicately, but the Herald laughs, a small, fragile sound. "Nothing I haven't heard before," she says with a sad smile that grips Josephine's chest. The glow from Josephine's fire gilds the elf's angular features, highlighting her high cheekbones. Privately, she thinks some of Lady Lavellan's mysterious charm comes from those cheekbones, the strong jawline. There's a certain beauty or handsomeness about her, a strength overlaid with gentleness.
The thought only bothers her more. She wants to shake the calm out of the Herald, shake it down and out of those eyes, down the sharp cheekbones to someone else who could surely afford to bear the burden more than this woman, who already has the weight of the world.
Why doesn't she understand that it is increasingly difficult to win support for her at court if all people see are the tips of her ears? Josephine huffs to herself, scribbling fierce notes, and determines she'll simply have to take walks more frequently and stamp out the disrespect herself.
"They don't owe me anything," the Herald says. "I don't remember what happened, but I know this isn't something I did." She waves her left hand. "This isn't mine. I haven't-"
Josephine lays her quill down harder than she intended and the tip breaks with a loud snap, halting the Herald mid-sentence. "I hope you are not about to suggest you have done nothing of import for Thedas." Really, how could one person be so...so...dense? "You owe these people nothing, yet you repeatedly risk your well-being and safety in order to attract more of them, and then they act insufferably." The Herald's eyes grow slightly round, and Josephine immediately feels abashed at her outburst.
"Forgive me, Your Worship." Josephine ducks her head and searches around for a new quill. "I cannot imagine what burdens you carry." Avoiding the other woman's eyes, she returns to her work. "But I think it would be helpful for our troops if you, perhaps, gave yourself more credit for your efforts." Right, the troops-it is the only logical reason for her distress at the Herald's modesty, but she feels that's not all. She can't put her finger on it and it frustrates her.
There is a long silence, only broken by the crackling of the fire. Josephine knows the Herald is studying her and feels her skin prickle slightly.
Finally, the Herald murmurs, "Of course." Another pause. "I will leave you to your work, Ambassador." Josephine looks up in time to see the Herald duck her head briefly before vanishing out the door.
They do not speak until the next war council, amidst an argument over a choice of allies between mages and templars, neither ideal. Josephine amends her earlier impression of the Herald as working to charm the masses with her sacrifices. When the Herald chooses to attempt to recruit the mages, Josephin realizes that Lady Lavellan has, all along, been protecting those who could not protect themselves. She thinks to all of the elf's demurring over her contributions, and realizes it stems, in some part, from a fierce belief that those who are able should, and must, protect those who are unable to protect themselves.
The mages have certainly been a wronged group.
She knows that's not the only reason for the Herald's decision, of course; the mages would certainly be helpful in closing the Breach for good, nor are they totally helpless without the Inquisition. But something essential about the Herald's motivations has finally become clear to her.
And, of course, the Herald nearly gets herself killed. Again. In fact, she comes so close to doing so that an entire alternate future apparently occurs where they all believed she was dead. Josephine finds this highly disturbing. It's one of her worst fears, that they would have to try to continue the Inquisition without the Herald of Andraste, losing with her all of the support and future support they would have had, losing themselves to the dark green eye gazing at them from the heavens.
They find, too, that there is some greater threat behind the appearance of the Breach. Of course. Something more terrifying than the sky being swallowed up, something so powerful it can give others the ability to transport the Herald randomly in time.
Josephine feels slightly hysterical. She realizes she needs to calm down, but she thinks, too, of the way the alternate Leliana had sacrificed herself so readily for the Herald. More distressingly, she nearly understands the sentiment now-knows that without the Herald, they would not only lose their support, but their morale. Their hope. And there is something about her endless giving, bravery, and nobility that makes people want to throw themselves in front of any attacks aimed her way. Not that she would ever let them in this reality if she could help it, of course.
Resentfully, Josephine adds "stupidly noble and courageous" to her growing list of impressions of the Herald. Petty revenge, and hardly an insult, but it gives her a sense of satisfaction.
Yet again, Josephine finds herself revising her opinion of the Herald.
She is a terrible flirt, she comes to find. Terrible in both of its meanings. She hears rumors that she charms nearly anyone she meets with flattery, the ever-energetic Scout Harding laughing into a drink about the harmless, gentle flirtations the Herald sends her away before each mission. "She asks, 'Are you worried about me?' And I'm all, 'Well, someone has to be!' You should really see her charge into some of these places, you know...It's really something. Someone's gotta make sure she knows what she's getting into."
Josephine thinks it's quite childish to brag about one's encounters with the Herald for a party story, but she finishes her conversation with the tavern keeper, having gotten the information she wanted, and leaves hurriedly.
And then, one day, the Herald stops by to discuss the Chantry after over-hearing a conversation about Lyrium. In the midst of her explanation about the use of customs, the Herald suddenly interjects. "How did someone so lovely and selfless get into Orlesian politics?"
Josephine loses track of the conversation, instantly flustered. She hadn't expected Lady Lavellan to try her terrible flirting with her, of all people. Their conversations, while occasionally bordering on banter, have rarely entered into friendliness, much less anything...more. Josephine is hardly one of the Herald's warrior companions, with whom she seems to banter so easily. But here they are, the Herald's high cheekbones lit by the fire, this time the dappled light casting a mischievous glow, and Josephine stammers out a hasty reply before rushing back to her desk. Really, she thinks, what a silly thing to say in the middle of a discussion about the Chantry, of all things. And why does she is she even thinking about her cheekbones?
She knows that her skin has heated, and hopes the somewhat dim lighting of the room conceals it as they discuss Lady Lavellan's continued hedging about the question of Andraste and the Mark.
Perhaps this is the game the Herald plays, she thinks. A game of charm, advance and retreat, avoiding any firm ties. It is not a game Josephine is used to, and so she decides with a nod that it is best to ignore it. It certainly doesn't mean anything, and she has no idea what Lady Lavellan's...inclinations...are anyway.
The interaction troubles her earlier revisions and amendments. Were her initial impressions of simple honesty wrong?
Is it even dishonest to flirt a bit harmlessly? Perhaps the Herald merely needs to relieve stress by flirting harmlessly. She clearly has a hidden, mischievous side Josephine wasn't expecting.
A tiny part of her wants to say, as the door closes behind the elf, that Scout Harding isn't the only one who worries. But she has no helpful information to offer for the battles, only influence and intrigue and so far, she's not sure how much Lady Lavellan cares for such things. Josephine closes her mouth with a click and the moment is gone.
It was a stupid sentiment, anyway, she tells herself. What right does she have to worry about the Herald anyway? They are barely even friends.
She does not have a moment alone with the Herald for a long time.
