aaaa i can't NOT prompt Isabela x Josie!
❀ aster (symbol of love, daintiness) — “i’m not fragile, y’know.” Happy Writing! 🩷
The cut across Isabela's collarbone from a ventori blade will scar. Really, she's lucky it was a blade and not an axe - she has not quite forgotten the vivid description the Iron Bull painted of how to use it as a marker for cleaving someone in two.
And it could well have been an axe; Josephine has read the report from the operations in the Emerald Graves, dictated but not read by Isabela. Whoever was listening to the dictation had a quick hand and neat penmanship, able to copy down all her flourishes as she recounts how 'everyone was making a fuss' and it 'was only a flesh wound'.
Isabela leans forward onto Josephine's desk, deliberately pushing her breasts together, practically forcing Josephine's eyes from the jagged cut to there.
"I'm not fragile, y'know," Isabela says, knowingly. "This is entirely the problem with lovers, they always think I need saving. Usually from myself."
"If you've granted me the title of lover, then perhaps you can grant me a little room to worry about you returning to me in one piece?"
"Lovers is what we are, I'm not yours."
What Isabela means to do is make Josephine flustered, to have her defend her position, to extoll on their arrangement and restate her understanding of the nature of the thing; no promises, no ties, no obligation. It is easy bait, and Josephine is more clever than Isabela is currently giving her credit for.
"Then that presents something of a problem, as I have already stated my claim to you in conversation."
"Really?" Isabela says, immediately shifting from combative to curious. "Who have you told?"
"I took coffee with lord Dorian a few days ago."
"Pavus? Definitely hadn't pegged him for a viable rival for my affections, and I'm usually right about these things."
"You are not wrong, but I do imagine he would find you dashing under much different circumstances."
"I'm sure he still finds me dashing, even without the desire to bed me. I should ask him. Maybe I can ask him what you said about me."
They are certainly lovers, but not sweethearts. It only pains Josephine a little, in the darkest hours of candlelight.
"If it upsets you that I speak about my care for you with a friend, then I will refrain from such, in future."
Isabela sighs, and then perches herself on a clear spot of Josephine's desk.
"No, it's sweet of you to worry about me. Don't stop singing my praises, I thrive on infamy. I can think of much more fun ways to remind you how strong I am that isn't a little tiff. When you've got time, Ambassador."
"I have no meetings until the afternoon," Josephine says lightly, "if you'd care to lock the door."
[my fic on ao3] [my fic on tumblr] [bluesky] [prompt me]
For @thedasweekend














