The fortress was still in ruins from some former attack, and who knows how long ago that was. Long enough that there had been some unwanted vermin lurking in the lower corridors. It was not so noticeable as to it affecting everyday life but the Inquisitor grew impatient upon returning to Skyhold, after a particularly grueling and irritating travel, to find fallen bricks and wooden beams blocking the stairs to her quarters.
"For the love of all that is good and holy!" A frustrated scream echoed throughout the main chamber of the fortress, making heads turn. Everyone who had heard it, from the war room to the dungeons, knew that whatever was about to happen was going to be bad.
Ashes sprayed on the stairwell to the Inquisitor's quarters when she obliterated the wooden beam and brick that had been in the way of her path. The sound reverberated down the chambers and in the main hall startling, once more, the people that were there. Evelyn cursed under her breath, continuing up the stairs, and slamming the door hard behind her.
At that moment, Josephine, Cullen, and Leliana had been discussing the latest issues in the war room. The noise had sent all three running to the Inquisitor's stairs up to her quarters. Smoke from the blast permeated the air, causing a spur of coughing out of the trio. The Commander charged forward past the dust and debris, up the stairs.
"You go and see what happened," Leliana called from below.
The few nobles that had allied with the Inquisition this early were gawking at her obnoxious disregard for manner. A masked Orleasian man grabbed at the Ambassador's arm, pulling her away from the wreckage. "I hope these outbursts will not become a regular thing."
He was no doubt speaking of the dispute between Varric and Cassandra days previous as well as this. "I will see into that, My Lord,"
Returning to the charred shambles, Josephine stared in wonder at the destruction of such a simple spell. Amazingly, the stairs were still in tact but the beams were tarnished to a rubble and the tapestries had flames licking at them. "Oh, my. This will take some time."
The anchor that plagued her hand brightly shown in the dimly lit room, dusk already looming in the distance of the mountains with the orange sun barely peeking over it ragged cool air that emitted off of them made snow flurry into the open doors of Evelyn's room; her anger only rose more at this. The irritation that had caused her to cast the spell that had blown up the ruins was the same irritation that made her hand flick in the air at the doors, forcing them shut at the enchantment's power.
Evelyn began to strip off her sweat slicked robes, flinging pieces in every which way direction of her room. After the Western Approach, sand and sweat were a lethal combination on the Inquisitor's body, mind and clothes. There was no doubt in her mind that she would surely have to buy new ones which was bittersweet as she had been meaning to for sometime but really did like this armor. She had had the set for a great deal of time and it meant something to her. A scoff came unexpectedly out of her own mouth as she looked at the worn material in her hands. The insignificance of clothes had always been one of her beliefs; they were meant to be worn nothing more. It did not matter what color they were, or if it just so happened to be a little too low cut of a neckline for an unmarried woman. It did not matter to the Inquisitor because it was now finally her choice. The remembrance of frilly dresses with wide skirts flitted through Evelyn's mind, a grin smearing across her face. Her imagination ran wild at the thought of what her mother's face would look like if she saw what now she wore on a regular basis. Yes, she was definitely glad that part of her life was over.
An unexpected return normally was brought on by either an urge to get back to see what her advisors had accomplished or the Inquisitor's human nature in just wanting everyone to leave her alone. And this time it was the latter. Endless dunes constantly tricked the mind and the mirages that the scorching sun caused only made the danger greater. The journey did not go terrible by any means, but it for sure could have gone better, you know, without all the demons and corpses and such.
The bathroom that was attached to her quarters was no luxurious thing. A simple tub made of scraps of melted metal combined into a dark brown color, a spigot that released hot water on good days, and three wooden buckets were all that took up the small space. She gathered the necessary things for a bath, not really paying attention, and went through a mental checklist for what things she wished to get the next time she visited Val Royeaux. Sweet spices, creamy soaps, and decadent oils were poured into the bath water by idly working hands. Varric would put it as 'Her mind is in a different place'. She remembered that he had made that remark a few weeks early when they were at the Stormed Coast. Cole had made a comment about how that it was impossible, only he could do that.
Lowering her damaged body into the steaming water, she thought to herself, new robes for myself, polishing oils for Varric, Blackwall said he needed ironbark, Bull mentioned something about tail (like that will happen), poisoned tipped arrows for Sera if they have any in stock… The oils she had infused in the warm water instantly relaxed her tense muscles, soothing the burns that covered her skin. The scent of vanilla and jasmine filled her nose. Everything felt so good. She submerged the rest of her head in the water, holding her breath.
Cullen knocked softly at the door, unsure whether it was a good idea to disturb her in an aggravated state. No answer. During his time as a Templar, in both the Fereldan and Kirkwall Circles, he had dealt with angry mages before, but this different. She was more than a mage. She was his friend. With a worried sigh, the commander pushed the wooden door open. He took caution up the steps to main living area. The large airy room was cold as well as empty, he noticed. Odd. There was no fire in the fireplace, candles unlit. He made his way over to the fireplace, starting one with ease; it started to burn and roar like ferocious lion. Pleased partly, Cullen took a small twig and used it to light the candles placed precariously around the room. The woman that was called Inquisitor was a strange one, having certain things placed in certain places, candles placed exactly where they should be. Satisfied with his small accomplishment, he turned to leave, but, suddenly, he heard the sound of water splashing slipping, a murmur maybe? The sun had set leaving the room dim with only the flicker of the candles and the fire lighting the area. Taking a few short steps towards the sound, Cullen said, voice bold in the brisk air, "Inquisitor?"
I would make an excellent fish, Evelyn thought because she had been holding her breath for some time now. She let her head rise above the water so she could take a deep breath, her ample breasts rising over top of them water then falling underneath. In moments like these, as she admired her own body (a rarity), she pondered why she had never been loved or never sought out a love. She shook her head, making water droplet fly out of her silky hair. I bet if the Inquisition knew just how weird I am they would not have made me Inquisitor. No, they probably would with the anchor and all. The bristles of the scrubbing brush tickled her skin as she attacked the dirt that seemed to linger there permanently. She could feel the dirt lifting off of her skin when she washed over the tanned skin with a bar of soap. Along with the smell of jasmine and vanilla, the soap added the sweet smell of honey. Evelyn decided it was time that her bath was over.
The man continued his way through the mage's room, taking note of little things like the painting of a young family she had put up and the maps of Orlais and Fereldan sprawled across her writing desk. Her mage robes or undergarments that were scattered on the floor, thrown carelessly aside were not noticed by the man, however. The sound of movement in the back chambers drew his attention in, and since the wooden door was swung open Cullen stepped into the room to find the Inquisitor back turned to him, naked standing out of the tub. The intrusion was a loud one, for Cullen had slammed hard back into the door upon seeing Evelyn in all her pure glory. She looked back at the noise, shocked to see him, mouth agape; her hands flew to cover herself, fumbling over her full breasts. The emotions on her face were a mix of surprise, fear, and anger.
"Maker, forgive me!" The templar turned a beet red, wanting to turn away, to look away from the exposed woman, but couldn't; his legs refused to budge. He felt a tightening sensation in his trousers. He tried, failing, to will the hardness to go away or just to not be seen by the naked woman.
"Get out!" Evelyn screamed. Cullen was happy to oblige (legs remembering how to function properly), running out the door of the bathing room, out of her quarters, and down the stairs, passing Josephine and Leliana who were still cleaning up the mess the Inquisitor had made. The templar sprinted out of the main chamber and across the main courtyard, still blushing, the night air doing nothing to calm his scalding cheeks. He took the steps up to his office two at a time; he needed to get as far away as possible. Away from his foolish mistake. Cullen walked briskly into the office, forcefully closing the door shut. A chill ran down his spine at the thought of the Inquisitor's nude body. It was his first time ever seeing a woman completely bare. Surely he had done some things out of lust like a many people do. It was fast and greasy and, most of all, regrettable. An ironclad fist pounded on his desk, breaking a single plank of wood in half and rattling the bowls and things on top of it. One powerful memory in particular took up a storm in his imagination, one of pure lust and greed.
"I need to pray," Cullen gulped, heading to the chantry's keep.
Evelyn had grabbed a towel, wrapping it securely around her dripping body, after Cullen's intrusion. The quick moment had left her feeling exhilarated and bizarre, but then embarrassment followed. She made her way out to her living quarters and flung herself on her grand bed, humiliated. Being someone who is supposed to lead fearlessly, who is supposed to be looked up to there was no room for petty things such as this. But there were so many things people did not tell her that would go along with being Inquisitor. Like that people will discriminate against you because you're a mage (well come now Evelyn, people already did that to you). How to fix a fortress in ruins? Nope, they certainly did not inform her about how to do that. Or what to do if a trickster dwarf and a Seeker get into a fight. What to do with a spirit named Cole who would disappear and reappear at the most inconvenient of times, make people forget them after he reads their minds? There was no textbook on that. Believe her! She had checked. And they especially do not tell you that your Commander of your Army may walk in on you when you are undressed. Frustrated tears threatened her, but, no, this was not something to cry over. The conclave was something to cry over. Haven was something to cry over.
Thankfully for Evelyn, she did have one person to turn to: the Maker, someone she had learned to trust no matter what the circumstances. Rummaging through her wardrobe she pulled out a plain shift dress she had gotten recently from Denerim (Maker bless Josephine). The clean fabric against freshly washed skin was a welcome distraction for her unease. After dressing she made her way down the slightly demolished stairs for the keep. She was wanting, or, searching for guidance from someone who would never fail her.