Sisters of Tevinter

Constellation

  Jormungandr shouldered her coat as the last rays of evening crossed her face in scarlet and molten amber. She was engrossed in the process of packing her satchel-- a small sachet of elfroot, a flask of healing tonic, her most recent journal (already half full) a roll of bandages...

    Her hand brushed the most recent slip of parchment on her desk-- an almond envelope. No doubt left for her earlier that morning, sealed in yellow. It waited patiently for her. One more second... She smiled to herself as she tucked a few sticks of charcoal into her bag and slung it over her shoulder, reaching down to pluck up the thick, smooth paper and slit it open with the little blade beside her inkwell. 

    She drew forth the letter, allowing herself a moment to sink down at her stool to read. 

    Most Delightful Inquisitor, 

       The scandal! I had heard of your exploits in Orlais and exposure of Duchess Florianne-- I could never have imagined the scale of such things! Hearing it straight from the horses' mouth-- no offense of course. 

     Jor grinned.

      Incredible. You've delighted me with your regaling of such a story, I found myself laughing in the chapel halls more than once-- This Albion fellow seems to me a horrid wretched weasel. How is your neck healing? Nothing severe I hope. 

   The Inquisitor's fingertips trailed to her bandaged throat, touched as she continued reading. 

     I almost wish I had been there. I do hope Dorian enjoyed himself-- he always had such a taste for fashion and words. As for me, I am well. I ride for Starkhaven this week-- the great city, can you believe it? I'm holding a conference with the remaining champions and officials. There's been disturbing news from Crestwood I'm afraid-- I will keep you appraised as I learn. I wish you luck with your movement into the deserts. I can't say I envy you the heat. Nor the Darkspawn. 

 Jor smiled wryly at that, tracing a thumb fondly down the edge of the letter as she continued. 

     Greet your companions for me. Tell them I would have enjoyed their company-- and that qunari fellow that I wish I hadn't turned down that drink. I laugh as I write this. A rare gift on its own. I thank you again, Inquisitor. Send my father my regards. Kindly, if possible.

     Be well-- and write to me again soon,

       Ambassador Felix Alexius of Redcliffe, Heir to the Magistrate

       A cheery knock tapped itself against the wood of her door below. 

       "Come in," she called, folding the letter with great care and slipping it back into its envelope. Dorian skipped up the steps to grin at her over the stone rail at the edge of her quarters. 

        "Hello, darling. Ready?" 

        "Hm." She smiled and absently tucked the envelope into her satchel as she rose. 

        "Oh, what's that?" He arched an ebony brow, a teasing smile on his lips. "Clandestine letters? From whom? My goodness, dearest Jora, have you been keeping me in the dark about someone?" 

       Jor's lips twitched in something reminiscent of a scowl, though her eyes danced with emotion and laughter. "You're talkative this evening. Something wrong?" 

     "You have a very strange brother--" He ascended to the landing and held out his hand. "I'm burning with curiosity, Inquisitor, let me see."