WOMAN ON FIRE.

Ruby was all too pleased to be doing exactly what she’d come here to do, almost entirely without complication. Wooing nobles both in and out of the bedroom, winning them over to the Inquisition’s business, providing connections and aid. And, more than that, the Inquisitor herself was openly thrilled at the results. It was a long game, working her way into the inner circle, but Luken would be more than pleased. 

“I am always happy to serve, Madame,” she answered, with a polite nod of her head, ever pleasant and easy to look at. She peered over at a few of the letters, nodding at the one in elegant violet ink. “I was surprised to see how quickly Duchard was swayed, and I might recommend keeping an eye on him. The rest, however, are no more or less scrupulous than any other Orlesian.”

           “PERHAPS HE WISHES to humor us for a bit, which is a good thing. At least we have his support for now.” Her hands fall to her lap slowly and she gives herself time to properly study the woman. What a pretty little thing. To think she had successfully appealed to half the nobles on Josephine’s list! The Intrigues of Court, while riveting, were exhausting to Ysenia. Unless the matter was of extreme importance, appealing to the elite was all play. She just liked the grandeur that came along with it; everything else was a nuisance.

But alas! The Inquisition’s new gem was here to help. Ysenia wondered what else the courtesan had in store.

“And yet I give it anyway–” he replies with a small grunt as he braces his hands on his tired knees and stands. He follows hands folded politely behind him as he takes to her side. He gives her a side smile finally in return, a knowing look before staring ahead as they walk and talk.

(her greed and wrath at times do worry him, but part of him envies that she can indulge in them at all.)

A low hum of thought and he shrugs. “Perhaps I should employ miss Red Jenny to knock you down a peg–” he offers with a briefly amused look to her, a breath of a grin threatening to overtake him. He takes a breath and then shrugs slightly. “I admittedly have no advice for you, Lady Inquisitor,” Rathlein says with a slow sigh, and it pains him to admit that as the truth. “I’ve never known much greater renown than being a Warden-Commander, and even then I am one of many in the Anderfels. I have no interesting titles like hero or champion to wear or be noticed by” he listed.

“However–” he unfolds his hands, tucking one beneath his cloak to warm his fingertips as they walked, “If you would like me to make sure you do not grow too cruel as Inquisitor, I am happy to do that for you, but I do not know if I’m the best one for that job, I’d ask Lady Pentaghast.” Rathlein offered.

            THE WOMAN CROAKS OUT a groan and shakes her head. Definitely not Cassandra. The idea sounded attractive in theory, but she knows the Seeker is not in a position to keep that information confidential. Even without the knowledge of the ball, Ysenia’s council would be warned of her growing self-doubt and in turn she’d suffocate under their fretting.

“You’re mad! That would mean telling her everything. Informing Cassandra that I may be turning into a bad egg would surely be the end of my political freedom—or freedom in general!” There was moment, after the ball, in which Ysenia had entertained the thought of confiding in her circle. However, that idea was quickly shaken off. She could live with them thinking it was just a mistake for a little bit longer. “I think I’ve done enough to make you all worry for a lifetime, anyhow. I’ll just try to be a lot less... forbidding? I don’t want everyone to feel as if they’re walking on eggshells around me.”

She guides Rath into the sun outside after lazily pushing into the stockroom’s creaky wooden doors. Passing agents look their way with caution and their steps falter in the Warden’s presence——they are suspicious. Perhaps it was expected after having to watch him usher her quickly down the ramparts, but Ysenia didn’t like the implication that he had hurt her in some way. It makes her grab at his wrist and pull him past the mural of stares.

Look away, little doves! The diabolical one here isn’t him.

“You see, I already have so many eyes on me as it is.” The woman leans closer to his side and whispers impishly. She lets go of him when the agents tear their eyes away and go back to their routes. “I don’t wish to be observed all the time. I did say I liked the power. But I don’t mind being kept in check here and there. I’m quite afraid I’ll lose myself. What a horrible thing that would be! A Ysenia-less Thedas. And what would you ever do without me?”

﴾ ➼ ﴿ ❝Oh, of course. I encourage it, in fact. Actually, why not fight it out with the others to see who comes out on top? One last romp to enjoy the height of luxury before Thedas is burned to the ground? …Hm, may not have thought about that phrasing before I spoke.❞

            “BLEH, NO.” She cringes and shakes her head, throwing out one of her hands to wag in disagreement. “Too much work. I don’t wish to fight for it. There’s no fun in that. How about... Oh! How about your mounts? Any of the Harts would be excellent. Or that giant nug you have stomping around the stables! I’ll simply take your mounts and run off into the destroyed world while everyone fights over your quarters——IF you die. Only if.”

                     there’s  more  than  one  way  to  skin  a  halla, as rost once said, his words seemed more distant now than they ever had in the circle. her dreams more fearsome than the harrowing ritual had ever been. the bow felt like a warmed blanket, comforting in her iron-like grip. aloy almost seems disappointed as her focus is pulled away from the bear that laid just feet away. the pelts would fetch a great price, but, she’s tied to the will of the inquisitor. as the arrow is put back in it’s quiver, the redheaded elf glances to the woman. a nod of the head is the initial reply.  ❛  we  may  not  want  to  head  back  this  way,  there’s  some  curious  bears  and  the  first  scent  of  food  is  going  to  cause  them  to  come  running.  ❜

            “OH, REALLY?” She pretends to consider Aloy’s warning for a moment. Only for a moment. What a silly thing to worry about, she had thought. The last thing Ysenia would sweat over currently was a bear, but perhaps that was her petty confidence tainting her judgement. She scans their surroundings briefly as a low hum crawls up her throat. Her staff kicks up dirt when it’s lifted and the charms she’s tied at it’s top jingle towards the direction she suggested earlier. 

But since I came back, even with the little bits of info I have on her, I’ve gotten nothing but nice things said about Ysenia as a character and that really means so much to me. She’s literally my most cherished OC and the fact that so many think she’s lovely really pulls at my heartstrings! I know I’m slow with replies and it seems like I don’t pay much time into this blog, but I appreciate everyone who writes with me and both you and your muses are on my mind!! 

             FINGERS SLIDE SLOWLY across the stone in awe. She is mumbling some incoherent gibberish, almost as if she was speaking directly to the rune. Ysenia has seen many like these in her life, but rarely did she ever have the time to study or use it's power to strengthen her own magic. The opportunity is granted to her now, and it was all thanks to Kaaras. She didn’t expect her propositions to the Inquisiton to be received so well by him, so in return she offers all she can to his cause and order (much to the disappointment of her people—some found helping an Andrastian-driven tribunal a waste of time instead of a window to something greater.)

But she is here now, with him by her side as they study the magic of old and the earth it was cast upon. It brought a new form of determination in her life, this new adrenaline and passion that she didn’t know could get any stronger. All that, and yet—

“I don’t know what it means.”

Ysenia’s tone is flat then, but you could definitely see the embarrassment creep up her face. Her slim fingers drop from the rune as she blows out an air of defeat. “I have to be frank with you. I unfortunately don’t. I can feel the intention behind it’s creation, but I can’t read it. It’s beyond me. Or beyond my magic, to put more accurately.”

s.c. // @ysenias

﴾ ➼ ﴿ ❝Honestly, if I survive the next three years of my life, I will be impressed with myself.❞

He squeezes back only gently as she clamps down around his hand, keeping his gaze on their joined grip to spare her the audience of her crying, even if he can see her from the corner of his vision. 

(he found it profoundly brave that she would break down like this around someone at all. though you can only fill an urn with so much water before it began to spill over.)

As she speaks on it, Rathlein’s other hand covers her tight grip, like it would give her some of his strength. He cannot help his small laugh, finally giving her his gaze as she recounts the events of the ball for him. “I’m still hurt you did not bring me along, though I’m sure I would have done little for the Inquisition’s court approval–” he admits with a vague shrug. At the final squeeze, Rathlein returns it to the tips of her fingers as she pulls her hand from his finally.

He looks up at her, leaning slightly back at the added weight of her hands on his shoulders with an amused look. He dragged his finger across his sternum with a laugh, “I swear upon Andraste’s Ashes, Lady Inquisitor–” he replies lightly, looking only slightly like the cat that got the cream.

“If it matters to you what people think–” he began, voice gentler now, “I agree that you made the right choice… we needed an army against Corypheus, and Gaspard better than anyone else could give that to the Inquisition,” he tells her simply. The truth of that night would go unspoken from him, and he took a deep breath.

“I’m sorry that you must bear the hardest choices on your shoulders, Ysenia.” he knew the burden of leading, perhaps not to the degree of being seen as a prophet, but he knew of them enough to empathize. He would call it unfair, but life rarely gave a fair shake to anyone, it would not help.

            SHE SMILES. It is small and sad, but she still offers him one. Ysenia pats at his shoulders before leaving for the door and waiting for him to follow. Her whole life she had been working to master the qualities of being a leader. At some point clan Lavellan would be hers to take charge of and she would bring them to a success that no Keeper could have achieved before. She was willing to take that responsibility, to make those difficult choices.

But that would have been for a group of ten or twenty at most. Not several thousand Inquisition agents. Or Thedas as a whole. 

The power of the mark chains her to the Inquisition, and willing or not she must stay by it’s side. Yes, she is reluctant and tired of this life. But if the burden is hers to bear, then the choices she makes will do it’s work to alleviate that. Such is the life of a leader. Of an Inquisitor.

“Don’t be sorry. It’s not an apology you should be giving. I’m sure everyone who the Inquisiton has helped up until now are quite thankful for my choices. It’s... difficult. But it’s worked in the favors of not only myself, but the people of Thedas as well. I’m also being paid quite handsomely as a reward for my efforts, but that’s beside the point—” 

She places her hands at her temples to think, rubbing at the skin as if it would help her words get sorted out. “I suppose what I’m trying to say is that, yes, it’s horrible. I always thought that my life was bad, but it turns out the world I’m living in is so much worse. I like meeting these colorful people, despite my complaints, and I like that I get to help those who truly need it. I like that I can ‘solve’ these hard things and get recognized for it. But I’m finding that I also love how powerful I’ve gotten. I love seeing those who slight me get torn down. I feel like that should worry me more than it has. I’m sure you understand.”