a p o t h e o s i s.

Surprise is what makes her jump when she first reenters her office, her messenger having been busy enough running other errands that Josephine personally delivered a few letters, having decided to stretch her stiff muscles. 

The shock of the scene before her fades as she realizes perhaps she should have waited for her messenger to return. A sigh & a soft sound of uncertainty seem to deflate her slightly at the sight of all the papers. At least the majority of what was on her desk was simply blank pages, rather than, perhaps, an influential alliance contract. Walking over to the other, she simply brushes some of the drawings to the side & sits down, fingers rubbing down her face. 

               ‘ is this your way of saying i work too much, as well? ‘

It’s a fair question, they think.  Twisting to push their legs towards her and show her the ink on one, the bare fabric on the other, and hum with something like pride.  She has a beautiful set of drawings left behind now, drawings that they neatly sit down to avoid -- hanging their still dripping leg off of the edge of her desk.  It is not... anger in her eyes, but neither is it pleasure or happiness.  They inspect her carefully.

       “Coo?”

Nod, for lack of a better answer.  She does work often,  perhaps even too much -- but to see her sitting without a quill in her hand or someone in rich clothing around her?  They find a distinct comfort in it, and coo once more. Wipe at the ink on their leg with the clean one.  Eyes very wide when the mess seems to spread.

It is the sound that catches his attention first, the rubbing of wood against wood as the toy rocks back and forth. Next–the song of the wanderer, startled and keening and this is what causes him to turn, to look back and see it, all crimson and fluttering, atop his idle project. 

          “Whoa there, little one.”

A broad hand outstretched, holding the griffon steady. 

          “Don’t rock yourself so hard unless you want to fall right off. Just gentle.”

And with fingers pressed to the curved, rocking base, he moves it in a slow, swaying motion–back and forth, gently so, as one might rock a child.

          “See?”

Their eyes are warm despite the distinctive chill in color - or the lack, and they listen.  Intently.  To feel the rocking calm beneath them is a relief, small legs folded neatly as they look around with distinct confusion.

This is strange.  It... is not unpleasant, but strange.

      “Chaa.”  Comes the response.

And then, more startled as it begins to move once more:

       “Chee!”

They’ve been following her for -- forever, for enough time that people have batted eyes and attempted to shake her hand.  Blind to the creature of red robes and golden thread that follows behind her with a fluttering scarf that slices the air behind them.  

  They meditate in silence, unbroken even when she enters the room.  Images that burn in their mind as constellations gleam over their robes, as they melt away from them to sparkle in space around them as stars their siblings still within the sky.  Eventually, they fade, and the Wanderer twists to look at her.

They have balance, incredible, near impossible balance. Such things are required, their body armless and wavering on legs, on robe and scarf alone.  Rarely do they show this, however.  And can only fathom the expressions that went with all the noises when they darted out of Skyhold’s kitchens with a tray of food and wine balanced upon their head.  Solas looks startled, laughs s o f t l y as they walk up the stairs, and they can hear Leliana’s trilling laughing as she peeks over the railing.  

     “Chee!”  

She has ink on her desk, and paper, a mix that leaves them clambering onto the wooden table and nudging at the brown cork within the glass bottle.  It takes some wiggling, fluttering of their robes around them until the cork pops free and rolls onto the floor.  Glistening black within, clean white papers on the entire desk...  

By the time she returns to her office, they have made a mess. Both legs are splattered with ink, papers across the floor, from desk to door and marked in drawings from clumsy to nearly perfected.  Places, items, and even people -- Cullen’s face is near the fireplace, and Josephine’s own with smears of thick black to create her hair, fluttering in open wind to near her feet.

Immediately, they freeze.  One leg dipped into the nearly empty bottle.

     They’re sitting.  On the griffon.  Knees tucked, body      ramrod STRAIGHT as they look around with blatant      confusion.  And then it rocks under their weight, and      their eyes grow huge.

Top of head: Sibling affection/parental affection

Hair: Yearning

Ear: "I want you to hear me out."

Nose: "You're so cute."

Cheek: "I want to tell you I love you."/Deep affection/Devotion

Neck: Dislike/Hate/Disdain

Shoulder: Worry/Concern for other/Fear

Waist: Possessiveness/"You are mine."

Over the heart: "I love you."

Butt: Sexual attractiveness/lust

Hip: Interest

Back: Wanting to kill/will betray you one day

Stomach: Fun!/Silliness/"Wanna go cause some trouble?"

Forearm: Indifference/Don't particularly care for

Biceps: Aggravation/Irritation/"You are an idiot."

Fingers: Friendship/amicable

Wrist: Fear of losing you

Knee: "Don't worry, I'm here for you."

Chin: Beauty/attractiveness

Thigh: Sympathy/empathy

Calves: "I will cause you pain."