The Inquisition's quarters are not in the Winter Palace proper. Lavellan, at least, put her foot down about that, despite Josephine's stringent opposition: I will not be treated as an unwelcome guest on land stolen from the Dalish, she declared in the war room with her hands clasped behind her back at parade rest. You may do as you like, and I will secure my own lodgings if it comes to it.
Josephine had looked at Cullen for backup, to which he mildly observed that there was precedent for him to be quartered near the honor guard accompanying them, and that since his own involvement in the actual talks themselves was minimal at best, proximity to the palace halls was not of dire importance.
And then Lavellan had said, out-milding him: Of course, if you want Sera that close to the Orlesian and Fereldan delegations...
Josephine pursed her lips. Cullen carefully kept a straight face.
All of which led to the small house near the palace, but not on the grounds, where Cullen is now heading toward the quarters reserved for him and for Alistair. It's a small sitting room, and a smaller bedroom, but it's better than Cullen could have hoped for. By the time he enters, he's already undoing the top buttons on the hateful uniform tunic.
The talks start tomorrow morning, bright and early. Cullen will be twiddling his thumbs unless and until called upon. That, he figures, will give him plenty of time to speak with their comrades who've come out of the woodwork. If Alistair's out there tonight -- well. That's fine too.
no subject
Josephine had looked at Cullen for backup, to which he mildly observed that there was precedent for him to be quartered near the honor guard accompanying them, and that since his own involvement in the actual talks themselves was minimal at best, proximity to the palace halls was not of dire importance.
And then Lavellan had said, out-milding him: Of course, if you want Sera that close to the Orlesian and Fereldan delegations...
Josephine pursed her lips. Cullen carefully kept a straight face.
All of which led to the small house near the palace, but not on the grounds, where Cullen is now heading toward the quarters reserved for him and for Alistair. It's a small sitting room, and a smaller bedroom, but it's better than Cullen could have hoped for. By the time he enters, he's already undoing the top buttons on the hateful uniform tunic.
The talks start tomorrow morning, bright and early. Cullen will be twiddling his thumbs unless and until called upon. That, he figures, will give him plenty of time to speak with their comrades who've come out of the woodwork. If Alistair's out there tonight -- well. That's fine too.