The moment she exited her office into the Great Hall, something felt wrong. No, everything was wrong. The torches and braziers were out. The guards supposed to be on duty nowhere to be seen, and yet the large door was wide open to a glimpse at the equally lightless and deserted courtyard.
Practiced in not letting panic be the first thing to grip her in any situation, she called out.
"Hello! Guards!"
Silence.
"Anyone…?"
Again only her echo greeted her.
Steady old girl. She thought even as she clutched her light source a little tighter. There's definitely a perfectly rational reason for the guards to all be off duty at once…and to have blown out all the lights on their way off…and for everything to be as silent as the grave…
At 'grave' she harshly clamped down her own thoughts. There could be a hundred reasons why or how, but right now she needed to focus on how to respond.
Spurred by haste and more than a little nerves, she chose the closest solution as her first one, her heels clacking sonorously as she strode towards Solas' room.
She and the elven apostate were barely more than acquaintances – something she should think to resolve in the near future – but he was closest she could remember, and Mhyrra always lent an ear to his council, even if she didn't always heed it.
Not unnerved enough to forgo manners, she knocked on the door as steadily as possible.
"Master Solas?"
No answer. Of course. He of all people would already be asleep, and quite likely a very sound sleeper to boot.
Already preparing an apology in her head, she banged on the door as loud as she dared.
"Master Solas! I apologize for disturbing you at this hour, but we may have a grave issue at hand!" She pleaded at the unmoving entryway.
Still nothing.
Caught between cross and unease, she dared try the handle regardless. Unlocked, it gave way easily.
Well, being both unused to living indoors and not being concerned with personal valuables, it looks like our elven guest has yet to get into the habit of locking his door.
Daunted but decided, she pushed her way into the room fully.
There she found the elf, sitting cross-legged on his cleared table, chin to his chest, eyes closed and hands laid atop one another in his lap.
Relief allowing some exasperation to seep up, Josephine strode up to the elf and grasped his shoulder, shaking him firmly.
"Master Solas! Wake up!"
He remained limp in her hand.
And she thought Yvette was impossible to get out of bed against her will!
The thought of her sister's smiling face calmed and emboldened her enough to grasp Solas by both shoulders and begin shaking him back and forth as she yelled at him.
"Please wake up! I fear we have a crisis and I require your assistance!"
And just as Solas' head merely lolled back, Josephine noticed it. Or rather, the lack of it. Snoring. Admittedly she was not so uncouth as to assume Solas usually snored without any proof of such, but upon closer inspection, she failed to see Solas' mouth or chest make ANY sort of respiratory sound or movement.
She slowly dragged her gaze towards his head, still hanging back limply, chin pointing up in the air.
"…Solas…?"
Unconsciously, her fingers slowly uncurled themselves from his shoulders. Once released, his body toppled backwards, tumbling off the table and landing in a crumpled motionless heap upon the floor.