Eve Adaar towers over most, even by qunari female standards, she’s both tall and broad.  However, her size and intimidating façade of silence and strength belie an internal softness, one that she lets few people see.  Although adept with a sword she has always been clumsy with weapons and her skill has come only after dogged practice.  

Today she is with Cassandra.  The two of them spar with little words, just swords and brute force.  Eve listens intently as Cassandra drills her, ‘you carry your sword too high’, ‘remember you fight mostly humans’, ‘bend at the knees to cut them down’.  After, Eve says little but thanks Cassandra for her time and instruction before heading to the war room.  

On the way through, she notices on Josephine’s desk, a vase of flowers.  She knows who put them there, and she can’t help but feel a pang of jealousy.  She knows the man who called himself warden likes the good lady ambassador.  She also knows it can never be, but she feels jealousy all the same.

In the war room, it’s business as usual.  There is discussion of battles both on and off field, and Eve finds that more often than not she’s playing arbiter.  Today is no different, argument and discussion break out on all sides and the meeting is long and tedious.  After all is settled, Eve is surprised that only a few hours have passed.  She excuses herself as the advisors wrap up, she has other things planned, not quite so inquisitorial.

Back in her apartment, she digs out the trunk she asked to be bought from her father’s home to Skyhold.  There wasn’t time to bring it to Haven previously, but since being here she’s had time to dispatch couriers to pick up the battered old trunk.  

The trunk is old and weather-beaten but made of toughened leather that had darkened over time.  The origin of the leather, she wasn’t sure.  Inside, the lining is also leather, but softer and lighter in texture than the exterior.  Eve rubs her hand along the inside of the lid, closes her eyes and breathes in the familiar smell.  It reminds her of home, of brushwood fires, earth and stone and her mother’s perfume.  There is a faint smell of embrium flower too.   Inside are several rolls and pouches of cloth and leather tightly packed.  She grabs what she needs and heads immediately to the Undercroft.

The blacksmith is there as is Dagna and they both nod to her as she heads to the crafting bench.  The tools she digs out from the leather pouch are much finer than what’s here already.   She also has at her disposal links of gold, silverite and some other metal that she takes from a smaller pouch.    She is ordered and methodical and the look that crosses her face as she unfolds each tool, each stone, each already crafted piece, is one of joy.  She stretches her arms high above her head before leaning inwards, eager to begin her task.

If Eve were of the qun, she’d not be a warrior.  She lacks the true skills of a spy, or an orator, and by nature, she isn’t the educating or nurturing type either, so a tamassran role would never have been hers.  If the Qun knew its people as well as Iron Bull said, then there’s only one thing that she could, or should have been.  Though technically competent with a sword thanks to practice, with a needle or fine tools, she is naturally proficient.  Delicate details of craft and leatherwork, of jewels and needles, folded steel and iron to make the finest blades and arrow tips are where her real talent lies.  These activities require a steady hand and calm demeanour. Patience and attention to detail are always needed to create weapons of superlative quality, sturdy armour and as it turns out, the finest of jewellery.

From another leather pouch she pulls an eyeglass, and begins to go through the small bag of precious stones she’s collected since being here at Skyhold.  In the light, there is only one jewel she thinks fit, a sapphire the size of her thumb.  It has a natural teardrop shape and the intensity of the blue is that of the deepest mountain lake.

Over the next three nights, when other duties don’t take her away she comes down to the Undercroft to work on her project.  She solders dainty leaves of silverite and gold into a woven patterns either side of a claw.  It holds the sapphire perfectly.  The chain, more laborious than the rest takes more time, the linking of tiny moulded pieces are fiddly, despite her dexterity.  In the end, she is satisfied.  When she holds the pendant up, light from the Undercrofts opening spills in and makes the jewel shimmer.  She smiles.

The final move, to wrap the piece in soft velvet and place the gift in Josephine’s desk.

Duties take her from Skyhold for a few days and her mind fills with other tasks, duties and lists.  It’s not until she arrives back and meets with her advisors does she remember.

Eve notices there are no flowers on Josephine’s desk today and in the war room during debriefing her lady ambassador avoids all eye contact.  Josephine pulls at her hair, bites her lips, but not once does she look at her.  Eve’s shoulders sag as the meeting continues and her voice drops.  At the end of the debriefing, there’s no hiding her disappointment and she asks to be excused, feigning tiredness and lack of sleep on the road.

Eve thinks herself a fool as she heads towards her apartment.  A stupid qunari fool. Who could expect a human to love a savage such as she?  Nobles at the Winter Palace were correct then, humans only see her as a pet, one to be kept on a leash and bought out when needed when trouble arises.  A tool of the Seekers and Chantry.  Eve is so caught up in her moment of misery that she doesn’t hear the soft running footfalls behind her.

“Inquisitor!” Josephine says.

Eve turns to see her advisor out of breath.

“Maker, you walk fast.  A word if I may?”  She asks.

Eve nods but says nothing, she’s sure that the only reason Josephine speaks with her is that she wishes to give the pendant back.  She follows her back to her office.

Josephine rolls her shoulders and clasps a hand to her stomach.  “Inquisitor.  Lady Adaar.  Do you--,”  she looks to the door near the war room.  “Do you have feelings for me?”

Eve bites her lip and pauses before answering, “Y…yes,” she stammers.

Josephine sighs loudly and looks to the door again, Leliana and Cullen enter and leave, but before they do Eve notices Leliana winking at Josephine and Cullen smiling broadly.  Eve furrows her brow.

When the door closes behind them Josephine rushes at Eve circling both arms around Eve’s waist.  “Thank the Maker,” Josephine says.

Eve let out a startled throaty yelp.  “You-- you like it then?” she asks.

Josephine stands back and pulls out the pendant from under her ruffles.   “I do.  Very much so.  It’s beautiful.”

Eve bows her head and looks away.  

Josephine peers up towards Eve catching her eye line and grabs her hands.  “This hand,” she holds Eve’s anchored hand tightly, “may have something special.”  She grips the other hand tighter still.  “But so does this one.  These hands are rough, battle hardened.  They make light work of bad people when you swing your axe.  I never would have thought that a qunari’s hands could be so gentle, so dextrous with fine things.  So lovingly attentive to detail.  But then I forgot the heart.”  Josephine turns Eve’s hand over to expose the underside, her finger circles the soft skin of Eve’s palm.

It tickles and brings a large smile to Eve’s face.

“It’s so lined, like it’s experienced a multitude of bad things, but it’s still soft, still smooth and--" Josephine brings Eve’s palm to her lips and kisses it before cradling it to her face.  

Eve rubs a thumb over Josephine’s cheek and laughs.  “I thought you wouldn’t have me, that you prefer the finer things.  I am not one of the finer things.”

“Oh I do, but you have to look beyond the exterior, beyond what the world presents to you.  I sometimes forget when I see how harsh people can be and with all the terrible things that happen in the world.  You, my lady Adaar are a jewel.  And like any jewel worth finding, you have to dig a little.”

“You are too much, Josephine, and too kind.”  Eve moves her hands to Josephine’s waist and brings her close.  “I’m going to hold you tight then kiss you, Lady Montilyet.”

Josephine leans her face up to Eve’s expectantly.

oh I adore librarians, but I don’t know… his very marginally Elliot there. like… I don’t really seem him as Elliot there, but its still awesome :P and they are totally together forever, they are family! and Sophie and Nate come back, eventually

oh, he’s not at all like Eliot, which is actually pretty great? But it’s fun to imagine the crossover anyways. :D

servantofclio replied to your post “I’m tired. Tired of the only way we seem, as a whole, to be able to...”

short-hand for drama is a great way to put it, and all too common in fiction (both amateur and professional)

linaleah replied to your post “I’m tired. Tired of the only way we seem, as a whole, to be able to...”

I <3 you so much right now Jilly. because fuck yeah, everything you said.

twistedsinews replied to your post “I’m tired. Tired of the only way we seem, as a whole, to be able to...”

*builds you a pillow fort and brings cotton candy*

bugsieplusone replied to your post “I’m tired. Tired of the only way we seem, as a whole, to be able to...”

Is this a particular fic Jilly? Death used as motive to weave cheap angst into a plot is poor story telling.

onemooncircles replied to your post “I’m tired. Tired of the only way we seem, as a whole, to be able to...”

There are no words for how much I agree with this post.

heh. It is both gratifying and depressing to know I hit a nerve. *snorts* And that phone posting stripped my formatting but didn’t actually make it completely illegible? ;)

Anyways, no bugsie, it wasn’t a fic, (there’s a certain underlying sense of melodrama in the set-up of such fics, I’m pretty good at avoiding them), it was a lot of little things. Daredevil and Vivienne in DAI and a book I just read and the current round of villain!Sebastian as murderer vs. LET’S KILL SEBASTIAN held up as a counter to his killing of Anders, when both stories are about breaking Sebastian and ending one’s drama with a dead body because of ... idk, reasons?

And, I’m rereading the Riddle-Master of Hed trilogy by McKillip, and it is just so gorgeous, and she does such a good job of making death a horror, even after betrayal, (perhaps especially after betrayal), and it makes the failure of the rest of the world to care about what it does to us and our characters to either make them dead or make them killers all the time, stand out as a particularly egregious contrast.

probablylostrightnow replied to your post “Ugh. I made plans for this evening, and I just CANNOT convince myself...”

*hugs*

onemooncircles replied to your post “Ugh. I made plans for this evening, and I just CANNOT convince myself...”

Ugh, I feel this.

I WENT. It was nice.