Marceline found herself once again sat in front of a fireplace, watching the lively flames dance to and fro. It was not like the one she had in Skyhold, this one much wider, and far more ornate. It was a choice she had to make, to lose herself in the swooping inlaid silver filigree that beveled the darkened oak or the flames themselves. Above the mantle rested a large portrait of her family, though from a time when she was much younger. Back when both her father and mother still had color to their silvered hair, and she was a much younger and more naive woman. She glanced up at the picture, and tried to remember how old she was when they had it painted. She had to have been in her teens, she thought, her youthful face and bright blue eyes standing out to her. She wondered how tired she looked now...
She shook her head and leaned back in the sofa and sighed aloud. This was to be the last night she'd spend at home for a time, and the work that waited for her back in Skyhold lingered threateningly on the horizon. There'd be less peace there, and certainly none like she experienced at home. Of course, Skyhold was peaceful, in a sense. A castle built atop a mountain and away from the cities of both Ferelden and Orlais would be peaceful. Still, it was not the environment that placed the pressure on her, but what it stood for. They had done much since the creation of the Inquisition, and undoubtedly there was much still left to do.
The Inquisition was in the minds of many, especially her own. Marceline closed her eyes in an attempt to find a measure of rest behind her eyelids, but she found none, only more thoughts.
At length, the door into the room opened behind her, then closed again, followed by a quiet, contemplative hum. It wasn't until they'd taken a few more steps inside that the entrant recognized that they weren't alone, however. "Oh, Lady Marceline. I'm sorry; I thought this room was empty. If you're resting, I can certainly go somewhere else." The Inquisitor was dressed down, wearing a loose white shirt and faded grey breeches with what seemed to be a patch on the knee. Her hair was unbound, falling in vaguely-disorganized waves down her back, a few flyaways suggesting she'd recently roused herself from bed. Her hand was wrapped around a ceramic mug, one of the plain ones the servants used. Steam wafted from the top of it; the scent of bergamot and honey made it obvious that it contained tea.
Tilting her head to the side, Estella swept her eyes first over Marceline's face, then took in the rest of her appearance with a sort of keenness that managed to remain far from sharp. "Unless... you might like some company?"
Marceline cracked open an eyelid and chuckled. She gestured toward a nearby seat with a waft of her hand, "Be my guest, if you wish. I am simply savoring the last few moments I may spend at home for a while," she added. There was an unconscious waver to her light smile that she felt, but could do nothing to stop.
Estella returned it like it hadn't faltered, sinking into an armchair and bracing her cup against the arm, shifting her fingers so that they were wrapped lightly around the simple curve of the handle. Her eyes moved momentarily to the fire, but they did not linger there long, instead finding the drawn curtains and running the length of the patterned purple suede. She gave the rich ornamental rug a bit of consideration before passing the low coffee table and fixing her eyes on the portrait.
A slight grimace crossed her face. "That looks like sitting for it was a pain," she said gesturing towards it with her chin and then shaking her head slightly. Settling herself more comfortably into the chair, she pulled her bare feet up underneath her and took a careful sip of her tea. "Very lovely, though. I suppose everyone tells you you take after Lady Gabrielle?"
"They do," Marceline answered in confirmation. "Even more so when I was younger," she added, gesturing toward the painting. "I was her little assistant then, which amounted to me carrying things for her and stamping the odd letter here and there," she laughed lightly at the memory. She perhaps thought she was more important than she truly was in the running of things back then. Always business-like in her demeanor as she went about her "duties", though she always had time to throw a smile her father's direction.
She readjusted herself in the sofa and continued to stare into the painting. "Believe it or not, I believe I inherited more of my father's reserved nature. Mother can be... quite difficult to dissuade when she desires something and has a tendency to go after it pretty fiercely," she said, with a laugh. She remembered the ruckus her mother used to raise in an attempt to gain the favorable deal when trading their goods. She doubted much had changed in recent years, she could imagine the fuss that she had to go through in order to get their wines served at the Winter Palace.
Not long after, her smile finally broke away into a frown. "I..." she hesitated for a moment, then shook her head and continued, "I worry for Pierre. I fear his upbringing was not as stable as mine and now," she said, leaning her head back to rest of the sofa, her eyes staring upward toward the white plastered ceiling. "I feel like I am just leaving him here. I..." She said, tilting her head so that she now looked at Estella.
"I worry," she admitted.
Estella pursed her lips, thinking that over and staring into her teacup as though it held some sort of answer. "Well, I don't think there's any need to worry about what kind of person Pierre's turning out to be," she said delicately, tracing her fingertip along the rim of the cup. "From what I've seen, he has a strong character, and he's almost an adult now." She took another swallow, exhaling heavily through her nose as she did.
"It's natural to worry about him, I'm sure, but... he'll be away from the fighting now, and safe. And I think you can trust him to be responsible." There she smiled a little, a subtle expression she might not have been aware of. "For what it's worth... I'd say his upbringing was quite stable. He has two parents who love him, and each other, and who have the means to live comfortably. That's... that's about as stable as it gets in the ways that really matter."
"Thank you," Marceline replied with genuine appreciation. Still, the words didn't help much and the frown returned. "But I just feel like I haven't been there enough for him, and here I am again, leaving him behind. I feel guilty for it. I wish I could take back with us, but it is as you said. He is safer here, and there is nothing in Skyhold for him either," she frowned, and shook her head. "No, I suppose that is not right. I do not want to take him back with us," she added.
"I wish I could stay here with him, and Micky, and my parents," she admitted with a subtle hang to her head. She loathed to return to Skyhold without the rest of her family. She chuckled again, though she failed to put any emotion into this one. "Truly? I find myself wishing that I did not have to go back. I feel guilty admitting it, but it's the truth," she rolled her head toward the nearby window and into the darkness past it. She could imagine what it looked like beneath the sun's light, grapevines stretching as far as the eye could see, with the rooftops of quaint homes dotting the vista. "It is peaceful here, but there? The Inquisition still has its share of fights to fight."
Estella curled her toes against the armchair, moving her cup to her knee, and pursed her lips. It took her a minute to respond, perhaps because she didn't know exactly how she should. "You don't," she said at last. "You don't have to stay here, if you don't want to." Her brows arched slightly; she met Marceline's eyes with her own. "You've helped the Inquisition for far longer than anyone expected it would last. Far longer than any agreement with Justinia could reasonably obligate you." She took a deep breath, but her expression didn't waver.
"You aren't a prisoner, Lady Marceline, and if you would rather be here than there, no one will stop you. You deserve to live the life that will make you happy, and the Inquisition isn't the kind of organization that will demand more of its people than they are willing to give. I won't let it be." Estella shifted her eyes to the side at last, settling them back on the fire. As though she had a sense of the gravity of what she'd just said, she added the rest in an even softer voice. "What you've done wouldn't be less because you needed to stop doing it."
"And how would I explain that to Pierre?" she replied. She then sighed and shook her head, feeling even more guilty that when she first began. "I apologize, I did not mean to make it sound as if I feel trapped or that I am unhappy with what we do," she added. If she truly feel like giving up her position, she doubted that either Estella or Leon would put up much resistance toward the idea. That was the type of people they were, and that was the type of organization Estella would want. "I understand what we do is important, and I also understand the danger Corypheus poses."
She was quiet for a moment after that, as she thought about it. "I cannot quit now," she said quietly. "We have come too far for me to quit now," she frowned, but nodded resolutely. Then she sneaked a smile and shook her head again. "I even doubt that Pierre would allow me to quit. Even if you were to leave me tomorrow, I would undoubtedly be along shortly because he would have talked me into it," she frowned, "I am afraid he has too much of his grandmother in him, when he has his mind set."
She fell quiet again, though this was a thoughtful silence she slipped into. It still felt too soon, too early. There were still some things she wished to say to her parents, and to Pierre. She frowned, and then turned toward Estella, her features more in line with her usual nature. "If I may make a request, however? I would like... More time. With my family. If you would allow it, could Micky and I have one more week?"
Estella was clearly surprised; her eyes rounded considerably and she blinked several times in succession. "Wh—of course you can. You don't need to ask me for something like that. Take another week. Take a month if you want to. We'll make sure the work doesn't fall too far behind in the meantime." She offered a smile, lifting the cup to her mouth one last time and finishing off the contents. Her exhale became a soft sigh, and she stood slowly.
"I suppose I should be getting back to bed." With her free hand, she pushed several tendrils of hair over her shoulder, clearly fighting to suppress a yawn. "You might consider doing the same, you know. A vacation shouldn't be all about your family. Be sure to take some time for yourself as well, okay? 'That's my only condition,' or however I'm supposed to abuse my authority in this situation." The smile grew momentarily, then faded.
"Ah yes milady Inquisitor, at your word," Marceline answered, mustering as much pomp and circumstance as she could from her sofa. She inclined her head enough for it to be considered a bow, and when she rose, a smile waited on her face. "Jests aside, I will. Micky and I will be along shortly but... I need this," she offered with a nod of her head.
"Estella? Before you go?" Marceline said, "Thank you."
"You're quite welcome, Marceline."
She shook her head and leaned back in the sofa and sighed aloud. This was to be the last night she'd spend at home for a time, and the work that waited for her back in Skyhold lingered threateningly on the horizon. There'd be less peace there, and certainly none like she experienced at home. Of course, Skyhold was peaceful, in a sense. A castle built atop a mountain and away from the cities of both Ferelden and Orlais would be peaceful. Still, it was not the environment that placed the pressure on her, but what it stood for. They had done much since the creation of the Inquisition, and undoubtedly there was much still left to do.
The Inquisition was in the minds of many, especially her own. Marceline closed her eyes in an attempt to find a measure of rest behind her eyelids, but she found none, only more thoughts.
At length, the door into the room opened behind her, then closed again, followed by a quiet, contemplative hum. It wasn't until they'd taken a few more steps inside that the entrant recognized that they weren't alone, however. "Oh, Lady Marceline. I'm sorry; I thought this room was empty. If you're resting, I can certainly go somewhere else." The Inquisitor was dressed down, wearing a loose white shirt and faded grey breeches with what seemed to be a patch on the knee. Her hair was unbound, falling in vaguely-disorganized waves down her back, a few flyaways suggesting she'd recently roused herself from bed. Her hand was wrapped around a ceramic mug, one of the plain ones the servants used. Steam wafted from the top of it; the scent of bergamot and honey made it obvious that it contained tea.
Tilting her head to the side, Estella swept her eyes first over Marceline's face, then took in the rest of her appearance with a sort of keenness that managed to remain far from sharp. "Unless... you might like some company?"
Marceline cracked open an eyelid and chuckled. She gestured toward a nearby seat with a waft of her hand, "Be my guest, if you wish. I am simply savoring the last few moments I may spend at home for a while," she added. There was an unconscious waver to her light smile that she felt, but could do nothing to stop.
Estella returned it like it hadn't faltered, sinking into an armchair and bracing her cup against the arm, shifting her fingers so that they were wrapped lightly around the simple curve of the handle. Her eyes moved momentarily to the fire, but they did not linger there long, instead finding the drawn curtains and running the length of the patterned purple suede. She gave the rich ornamental rug a bit of consideration before passing the low coffee table and fixing her eyes on the portrait.
A slight grimace crossed her face. "That looks like sitting for it was a pain," she said gesturing towards it with her chin and then shaking her head slightly. Settling herself more comfortably into the chair, she pulled her bare feet up underneath her and took a careful sip of her tea. "Very lovely, though. I suppose everyone tells you you take after Lady Gabrielle?"
"They do," Marceline answered in confirmation. "Even more so when I was younger," she added, gesturing toward the painting. "I was her little assistant then, which amounted to me carrying things for her and stamping the odd letter here and there," she laughed lightly at the memory. She perhaps thought she was more important than she truly was in the running of things back then. Always business-like in her demeanor as she went about her "duties", though she always had time to throw a smile her father's direction.
She readjusted herself in the sofa and continued to stare into the painting. "Believe it or not, I believe I inherited more of my father's reserved nature. Mother can be... quite difficult to dissuade when she desires something and has a tendency to go after it pretty fiercely," she said, with a laugh. She remembered the ruckus her mother used to raise in an attempt to gain the favorable deal when trading their goods. She doubted much had changed in recent years, she could imagine the fuss that she had to go through in order to get their wines served at the Winter Palace.
Not long after, her smile finally broke away into a frown. "I..." she hesitated for a moment, then shook her head and continued, "I worry for Pierre. I fear his upbringing was not as stable as mine and now," she said, leaning her head back to rest of the sofa, her eyes staring upward toward the white plastered ceiling. "I feel like I am just leaving him here. I..." She said, tilting her head so that she now looked at Estella.
"I worry," she admitted.
Estella pursed her lips, thinking that over and staring into her teacup as though it held some sort of answer. "Well, I don't think there's any need to worry about what kind of person Pierre's turning out to be," she said delicately, tracing her fingertip along the rim of the cup. "From what I've seen, he has a strong character, and he's almost an adult now." She took another swallow, exhaling heavily through her nose as she did.
"It's natural to worry about him, I'm sure, but... he'll be away from the fighting now, and safe. And I think you can trust him to be responsible." There she smiled a little, a subtle expression she might not have been aware of. "For what it's worth... I'd say his upbringing was quite stable. He has two parents who love him, and each other, and who have the means to live comfortably. That's... that's about as stable as it gets in the ways that really matter."
"Thank you," Marceline replied with genuine appreciation. Still, the words didn't help much and the frown returned. "But I just feel like I haven't been there enough for him, and here I am again, leaving him behind. I feel guilty for it. I wish I could take back with us, but it is as you said. He is safer here, and there is nothing in Skyhold for him either," she frowned, and shook her head. "No, I suppose that is not right. I do not want to take him back with us," she added.
"I wish I could stay here with him, and Micky, and my parents," she admitted with a subtle hang to her head. She loathed to return to Skyhold without the rest of her family. She chuckled again, though she failed to put any emotion into this one. "Truly? I find myself wishing that I did not have to go back. I feel guilty admitting it, but it's the truth," she rolled her head toward the nearby window and into the darkness past it. She could imagine what it looked like beneath the sun's light, grapevines stretching as far as the eye could see, with the rooftops of quaint homes dotting the vista. "It is peaceful here, but there? The Inquisition still has its share of fights to fight."
Estella curled her toes against the armchair, moving her cup to her knee, and pursed her lips. It took her a minute to respond, perhaps because she didn't know exactly how she should. "You don't," she said at last. "You don't have to stay here, if you don't want to." Her brows arched slightly; she met Marceline's eyes with her own. "You've helped the Inquisition for far longer than anyone expected it would last. Far longer than any agreement with Justinia could reasonably obligate you." She took a deep breath, but her expression didn't waver.
"You aren't a prisoner, Lady Marceline, and if you would rather be here than there, no one will stop you. You deserve to live the life that will make you happy, and the Inquisition isn't the kind of organization that will demand more of its people than they are willing to give. I won't let it be." Estella shifted her eyes to the side at last, settling them back on the fire. As though she had a sense of the gravity of what she'd just said, she added the rest in an even softer voice. "What you've done wouldn't be less because you needed to stop doing it."
"And how would I explain that to Pierre?" she replied. She then sighed and shook her head, feeling even more guilty that when she first began. "I apologize, I did not mean to make it sound as if I feel trapped or that I am unhappy with what we do," she added. If she truly feel like giving up her position, she doubted that either Estella or Leon would put up much resistance toward the idea. That was the type of people they were, and that was the type of organization Estella would want. "I understand what we do is important, and I also understand the danger Corypheus poses."
She was quiet for a moment after that, as she thought about it. "I cannot quit now," she said quietly. "We have come too far for me to quit now," she frowned, but nodded resolutely. Then she sneaked a smile and shook her head again. "I even doubt that Pierre would allow me to quit. Even if you were to leave me tomorrow, I would undoubtedly be along shortly because he would have talked me into it," she frowned, "I am afraid he has too much of his grandmother in him, when he has his mind set."
She fell quiet again, though this was a thoughtful silence she slipped into. It still felt too soon, too early. There were still some things she wished to say to her parents, and to Pierre. She frowned, and then turned toward Estella, her features more in line with her usual nature. "If I may make a request, however? I would like... More time. With my family. If you would allow it, could Micky and I have one more week?"
Estella was clearly surprised; her eyes rounded considerably and she blinked several times in succession. "Wh—of course you can. You don't need to ask me for something like that. Take another week. Take a month if you want to. We'll make sure the work doesn't fall too far behind in the meantime." She offered a smile, lifting the cup to her mouth one last time and finishing off the contents. Her exhale became a soft sigh, and she stood slowly.
"I suppose I should be getting back to bed." With her free hand, she pushed several tendrils of hair over her shoulder, clearly fighting to suppress a yawn. "You might consider doing the same, you know. A vacation shouldn't be all about your family. Be sure to take some time for yourself as well, okay? 'That's my only condition,' or however I'm supposed to abuse my authority in this situation." The smile grew momentarily, then faded.
"Ah yes milady Inquisitor, at your word," Marceline answered, mustering as much pomp and circumstance as she could from her sofa. She inclined her head enough for it to be considered a bow, and when she rose, a smile waited on her face. "Jests aside, I will. Micky and I will be along shortly but... I need this," she offered with a nod of her head.
"Estella? Before you go?" Marceline said, "Thank you."
"You're quite welcome, Marceline."