It was a quiet night in Skyhold.
The courtyards were clear of commotion and the halls were hollow. Hardly a single soul had not already padded off into the inviting maw of slumber, except for those on night-guard duty of course.
And yet, if one were awake and curious enough to look, the glow of candles could still be found in Josephine's office, the woman in question still hunched at her desk, quill in hand and scribbling away at some form or other.
No one could claim Josephine did not uphold her duties and position with the utmost of seriousness and competence. In fact, the general consensus was that she took it a bit too seriously, as if the entirety of Thedas would collapse if she were to pause but for a single minute.
But despite what some may think, she did have her limits. Times where she needed to take a breath of fresh air, eat and, most poignant at the moment, sleep.
The quill was growing sluggish in her hand, the words beginning to blur together, and the candle's light started to become a smudged glare in her eyes.
Finally, she put down her quill and rubbed her face with both hands. She really should go to bed, even she was ready to admit it. But then there was still the trade contracts with a half-dozen new allied groups she could get a head start on, the responses to several minor factions that sought to curry the Inquisitor's favour…
At the thought of the tall, powerful Qunari woman, Josephine allowed herself a small smile behind her hands.
If Mhyrra was here, she would have long since blown out the candles with a singly mighty puff and hoisted her out of her seat before carting her off to bed like some wayward child.
"The Inquisition won't succumb to a total cessation of function if you just decide to act more like a woman and less like a machine, Jojo." She could practically hear Mhyrra tell her once more in her mind.
When she'd first started calling her that, she nearly gasped, aghast for reasons beyond herself. And yet Leliana had laughed, genuinely laughed, right there in front of her and the Inquisitor. The reason was because, unbeknownst to Mhyrra, that had in fact been the name some of the younger and…less tactful students had taken to calling her back in her university days. To hear it again after so long, from the one she would for all intents and purposes answer to, and someone she would most definitely be unable to simply 'brow-beat' into desisting…
But Mhyrra never meant it as a taunt or pejorative. Simply a nickname, a shorthand to quickly address her in an informal manner and, dare she suspect, a subtle invitation for her to do the same. To 'loosen up' as Mhyrra would constantly tell her in something along those lines.
Once, genuinely fed up, she had let slip a dry "Yes mother." A fraction of a second later she had clamped her hand over her mouth, mortified, as Mhyrra merely raised an eyebrow at her. Right before she burst out laughing. And, gripped in the spontaneous madness of the moment, Josephine descended into giggles alongside her.
"Finally. I was beginning to wonder how much deeper I would have to dig before finding the woman beneath all those puffy ruffles." Mhyrra had prodded further, grinning.
She'd swatted her on the arm in response. They had both laughed harder.
What was it about that woman? When they'd first met back in Haven, Josephine was forced to admit she had been unsure what to the think of the mountain of a woman, tall and strong and proud. She had been uncertain, more than a little frightened, and to top it all off she hadn't known even a single word of Qunlat to help ease the tension.
She's obviously studied up on it as best as she could since then. Fascinating language, though a tad too grandiose in some of its idioms and sayings.
Add to that the fact that they were often of complete opposite minds on the subjects of negotiation and diplomacy – Mhyrra's often being of a rather demonstrably more percussive nature, to Cullen's clear approval and even Leliana's acquiescence – and she had initially feared, after Mhyrra had been chosen for Inquisitor, that she would be quickly dismissed from the Inquisition as "soft-hearted", let alone befriend her.
How odd to feel so glad to have been wrong, she mused as she smiled. If anything, Mhyrra seemed to consider her a sibling she enjoyed constantly arguing with. A silly notion, one she'd even scoffed bemusedly at, and yet indeed it and the antics that ensued forth had both completely dispelled any notion she had once had of Mhyrra being a savage brute, and could not help but remind her of Laurien, Antoine and Yvette.
Lost in the thought of friends, home and family, she leaned back further in her chair, mind drifting as the candle's glare began to twist and smudge itself across her mind's eye…
She abruptly shook herself awake, slapping her cheeks for good measure. Tired, unfocused and now more than a little homesick, clearly she wasn't going to get any more work done tonight, least of all properly.
Sloppy, ill done work. The stuff of nightmares. She shivered at the thought. Or maybe she was just cold.
Prying herself up from her chair, somewhat stiff from sitting for so long, she properly piled away her papers for the night, took up her candled clipboard – her deft handling of which still mystified her follows, to her silent amusement – and headed towards her sleeping chambers.