Josephine;
The midday sun did little to lighten the Inquisitor's mood as it streamed through the tall windows of her bedroom. Josephine had been given the unenviable task of preparing her for the Ball, which had been organised by Madame de Fer, the arcane advisor to the Empress Celene- though that title seemed unreliable considering the machinations of Duke Gaspard de Chalons. The Ball would be in true Orlesian fashion, the Empress and her supporters understood the importance of pageantry in times of crisis. The Inquisitor was sitting in her bed, sheets strewn about her and her hair practically standing on end. The Qunari beside her made a quick exit, giving her a quick peck on the forehead before shutting the door behind him, chuckling to himself all the while. Apparently the Inquisitor had not deemed the event important enough to rise before noon.
"Good Morning, Inquisitor." Josephine knew the woman liked that title far better than the Lady Trevelyan. The bundle in Josephine's arms was heavy, the others had insisted she encourage the Inquisitor to wear a gown of Orlesian make, so as not to draw unnecessary attention to herself but Josephine had other ideas. She was not sure the Inquisitor had heard her, until she spied the look on her face.
The Inquisitor was not slow to rise, and began dutifully, albeit miserably, trying to comb the tangles from her hair, seating herself in front of a beautiful mirror. It had been a gift, in honour of the Inquisitor's newfound fame as the tamer of dragons. The woman had been terribly depressed when she let the little beast go, but it had seemed to live on, emblazoned upon banners and used as her personal seal, Josephine had saw to that. Perhaps that is why the Inquisitor treated her more kindly than she did Leliana. "I was so glad we have the same complexion, it made these far easier to pick out." Josephine did not mind that the Inquisitor was now looking interestedly at the pile of clothes she had draped over her bed. The Inquisitor may have been more comfortable in an oversized linen shirt most days, but Josephine knew the girl had impeccable, or at least expensive, taste from the armour or robes she chose when leaving the Keep. Yet still another matter seemed to weigh upon the woman's mind as Josephine gently took the comb from her hand and began easing the knots from her dark golden hair.
"I should apologise to you. You must understand, I spent years of my life pretending to be blind and childish, hiding beneath innocence. I know not how to do so now, but what I said the other day was... well, it was not meant to offend you. I doubt you would have advised your fellow Advisors to chastise me like that."
The Inquisitor's gaze burned with a fury none of her companions had ever seen before. Cassandra looked mortified and Josephine had wondered if she should not say something to ease the tension. It was a poor plan to begin with; the Inquisitor would never take kindly to the right and left hands of the Divine ganging up on her, at least not about her personal life. Josephine had always found the Inquisitor quite willing to bend to the will of her companions when it did not specifically disadvantage her- she had given up the dragon easily enough and had, with little complaint, changed her entire fighting style to suit their agenda. But this time, Josephine knew they had crossed the line. There were few things the Inquisitor liked better than to be an enigma to those around her, her personal life was something she guarded jealously from the Advisors when she wasn't busy flaunting her lack of patience for the Seeker's rules with the soldiers.
"Is this because of the whole Ben-Hassrath thing because I said I was sorry for not making it known to you? Or are you simply trying to convert me to a solemn and overly malicious Chantry sister?"
"Inquisitor, listen-"
"No, youlisten. I am the Inquisitor, whether you like it or not. Do you think half the people in this hold would be here if I wasn't the one asking them to be? Be quiet Leliana. I don't give two fucks what the Divine orher lackeys want. How dare you, any of you, give me an ultimatum! Did you really think I would agree to this? As far as I am concerned, he has done more for this Inquisition than you all combined. I am not your pet; I am not a puppet you can pull upon a string. I will not be commanded, I will not be controlled, and I will fuck whoever I bloody well like."
Josephine had known the Inquisitor had not meant to imply they had done nothing for the cause, she was only trying to prove her point. "There is no need to apologise, Inquisitor, the matter was handled poorly." The other woman scoffed at that, Josephine was grateful. "You love him, don't you?" It was presumptuous, it was more than that, it was personal. Josephine had not meant it to sound like an accusation, but feared that would be how the Inquisitor would take it.
"I had never really loved anything before. Not for lack of trying." They were silent for a while after that, as the inquisitor painted her eyes artfully, wearing a barely-visible smirk the entire time. "You would think I would have learned by now not to care about anything."
When what seemed to be years of neglect had been worked from the Inquisitor's hair, she turned to inspect the attire options herself. "I was told to bring you only a single option to wear this evening, but I felt it would be more appropriate to let the Inquisitor choose what she liked best herself." The Inquisitor seemed slightly confused, rising to eye the multitude of gowns Josephine had hand-picked for her, she would have gone to get another armful if the Inquisitor had liked none of her choices but the woman's golden eyes had settled upon a burgundy dress made of an alarmingly small amount of cloth. "It will be a nice way to show them exactly who you are."
"Who exactly is that?" The woman was running her hands along the silk, appreciating the splits down either side of the dress and the plunging neckline which was accentuated by the way the fabric had been cut in the shape of an 'x', barely covering any womanly assets the wearer possessed.
"Who did you see when you looked in the mirror just now?" Josephine shooed her over to the bath, standing her in front of the full-length mirror to accentuate her point.
"Scars." The Inquisitor's voice was soft and rich, the sort that men stopped and listened to.
"Is that all? I think if you asked anybody in this Keep they would say you are more than just a collection of scars." It was so strange, Josephine had expected her to say gold or perhaps simply her name. "They would say you are the reason we are all still fighting. In that dress, I do not think the Empress herself could deny that and it is the best I can do considering they will not let any non-humans attend, unfortunately Orlais is not as progressive as it likes to think it is. Can you tolerate that?"
"I can tolerate most anything if it gets me what I want." Josephine had already seen what the Inquisitor would tolerate; blatant discrimination was not something she looked fondly upon.
"What is it that you want?" the advisor was genuinely intrigued. The Inquisitor had seemed shocked, as if nobody had ever thought to ask her what she wanted before.
"To leave a pleasant-smelling corpse." The answer was so ludicrous; the two women did not stop laughing about it for the remainder of the evening, whenever one caught the other's eye. "And I want the tavern to still be open when we get back."
The Inquisitor was a vision in the dress; it hugged her curves in all the right places and showed more skin than the entire Orlesian court put together. She looked like a Queen. The carriage bumped along as Josephine handed Cullen, Blackwall and the Inquisitor each their masks. They had only been able to order a single mask for their leader, considering the Orlesian Empire's best craftsmen were in the midst of the seasonal influx of orders from the nobility. Josephine's choice had been simple, a gold piece that would cover only the area around the Inquisitor's eyes. The craftsman had done a beautiful job, sharp petals of dragon flowers adorned the mask's shiny surface and its edges curled up into points- simple yet elegant. "The mask was my choice, I know it can be uncomfortable for non-Orlesians to wear a full faced mask." The Inquisitor seemed impressed, turning the object over in her hands inspecting the design.
"I am no stranger to masks." The other woman smiled as she handed it back to Josephine. "Before I put one on, I was afraid of everything." She had sat down again, absentmindedly plaiting her hair with tiny braids. "Tell me, Josephine. Have you ever felt you do not quite fit in your own skin?"
"I am not sure what you mean, my lady." Josephine knew exactly what she meant, but it would have been a crime not to let the Inquisitor continue.
"It is a strange feeling to be rid of." The statement made Josephine smile and gave her confidence to continue with her plan.
Josephine had noticed both the men in their company had suddenly found the patterns upon the doors of the carriage far more interesting than anything else. Yet the Inquisitor was proud and Josephine was glad to have been the one to make her so. She made up for what she lacked in appropriate attire with her skill at the game. The woman could have been mistaken as Orlesian herself if her accent did not give her away. This would not be an evening to forget.