a line in the hand

Sounds like commercial branding...

Ha, I'm right! Coneflower. Wow they look ridiculous

This was in our hotel room last month. My mother and I nearly gave ourselves hernias trying to pronounce it and I IMMEDIATELY texted it to by German bestie who informed me that it translates to ‘Arab Engagement Celebrations’. I wish I could forward you the audio of her saying it. It sounds so beautiful, and not at all like the abuse of vowels and consonants it appears to be in writing 🤭

Emmrich is might to need to use ‘verlobungsfeierlichkeiten’ when he and Isolde start making plans in chapter 7,549 of AMYU 😛🥰

Ha! Yes, much softer than people would assume, [ɑˈraːbiʃə fɛɐ̯ˈloːbʊŋsfaɪ̯ɐlɪçkaɪ̯tn̩]. Sometimes people characterize German as harsh, but ironically, to me it more often sounds like a language with a light lisp 😂hope you had a nice trip!

This seems like a fun game to play! Mine are:

Lois McMaster Bujold

J.K. Rowling (unfortunately)

Naomi Novik

Kristin Cashore

that one random neopets article writer who wrote a piece on writing characters that changed my life

***

Idly, Isolde plucked the puffy little heads of clover from the lawn beside them and wove the flowers into each of Emmrich’s buttonholes. It wasn’t until she’d nestled the fourth into place that Emmrich noticed. He broke off his explanation of the particulars of routing magic through circuits.

“Ah, but I’ve gone on quite long enough about such tedious matters,” Emmrich said, and clearly began searching for a new topic of conversation.

“Tedious?” Isolde repeated, slipping another clover head in. “It’s very interesting.”

“Kind of you to say so,” Emmrich said, without any indication he believed her. “Does the mixed seasonality of Arlathan mean that you have access to all sorts of fruit year-round?”

“Yes, so long as we’re willing to travel for it,” Isolde said. “I was enjoying what you were saying. I like hearing you talk.”

“On the rare instances I remember to be brief, I’m sure,” Emmrich said with a self-conscious laugh. “You must be firm, Isolde, in telling me when I’ve spoken too long. I do forget myself.”

Isolde’s brow furrowed. It was clear he was dismissing her words entirely.

“Why would I do that? You always have such interesting things to say.”

This time it appeared to get through to him. Emmrich blinked a few times, his mouth hanging open.

“You—oh,” he said, gobsmacked.

He looked as openly shocked as he’d been at her insistence that she didn’t need a lavish picnic spread—so taken aback that it seemed he might never have heard another person say it. Isolde had a moment of scandalized indignation. Had his previous lovers abused Emmrich’s uncommon kindness and generosity, without even appreciating what an exceptional man he was?

Emmrich leaned forward, kissing Isolde gently. The delicate way he kissed, without any hint of heat, had been strange at first. But as Isolde was coming to find that she liked it, just as much as she liked his other idiosyncrasies. His way was surpassingly sweet; charming and tender, as if he’d plucked a flower and presented it to her.

When they broke apart, Isolde put a hand to his face, touching his cheek. As he had at the opera, Emmrich melted into the touch.

It was only as his eyes softened that Isolde realized she’d meant the gesture affectionately. She’d been ready, as for any other man, to make as if it meant nothing—an unimportant touch, without any particular feeling behind it. But Emmrich wasn’t a man to mock feelings. In the absence of the usual jeering and scorn, it was surprising just how different it felt to express how she liked him. Safe. Comfortable.

My Bellara has pretty severe ADHD (which I insist is canon, hehe.)

Veilguard’s casual handwaving of City Elves certainly doesn’t go unnoticed by Isolde. To anyone who remembers City Elves exist, it’s CONSPICUOUS.

I had to listen to the dialogue of Bellara’s side quest repeatedly, and oh my god, the original script with Yenarel is so bad. Made no goddamn sense for the character context and was so… childish. Oof.

Bellara generally forgets Isolde doesn’t have access to magic. She’s regularly surprised when she remembers.

It’s genuinely baffling the Veilguard doesn’t have the Elves in the party (or an Elven Rook) ever address emotions around fighting the Evanuris. I think the most that happens is like, one sentence from Bellara? Very strange. This discussion won’t be the last time it’s brought up in AMYU (frankly, it should appear a LOT! More than I’ve written)

City Elf gods have huge overlap in names to Dalish gods, but the religions have developed very differently; they are two wildly different sects.

Most published serials are made by Human authors; Bellara has a subconscious bias in who the characters are, what they look like, and how they behave that very informed by the Human side of things

My Dragon Age lore loving beta points out that Bellara’s hero is likely inspired by Garahel, a legendary Grey Warden from the Fourth Blight.

“what would your ideal serial hero look like” Emmrich, apparently >:)

Bellara didn’t mention Grey Warden serials as an option because she judged Isolde probably wouldn’t be interested.

How’s that little crush on Isolde going, Bellara. That good huh?

One of these days I’m gonna write my Bellara x Emmrich x Isolde ideas…

If you think Isolde’s past lovers sound like dicks: yep. Accurate. None of them were abusive or even cruel, but they also just like. Sucked. In deeply normal ways.

Bellara concludes Isolde isn’t interested in women. Isolde is actually bisexual, but she hasn’t figured out that’s an option.

I wonder why Emmrich’s coat inspired you, Bellara. HOW’S THAT ALSO-CRUSH GOING.

Isolde is smelling an unusual genetic compatibility between her and Emmrich; to any other Elf, he just reeks like Human men normally do (albeit much better washed than most, so thankfully it’s not as strong.)

Ghilan’shiral were named to mean “guide-journey” in Dalish—but I immediately noticed the parallel to Ghilan’nain’s name. I actually think she had a hand in the original construction of them. And, very obviously, she has designs on them now.

***

“I was wondering if you could help me out with a story I’m writing,” Bellara said hopefully.

“Help?” Isolde said, puzzled.

“Yeah! Like, last week when you snorted when I was talking about—you know—” Bellara went a little red.

It wasn’t hard to figure out what Bellara was referring to. She’d been just as red when Isolde had diplomatically pointed out that if both hands of her “gallant gentleman” were digging into the protagonist’s “generous” hips, how was he managing to keep himself upright? Hadn’t Bellara been writing them in the simplest position, the man atop her in bed?

“Well, that was pretty helpful, actually. I thought I might run a few more things by you, if that’s alright,” Bellara asked.

Isolde blinked, amused that she was being taken as an authority in the matter.

“Alright,” she said.

“Great!” Bellara chirped. “Okay, so I was thinking that they were getting all heated in an alleyway, and he goes in for a kiss and—”

“In an alleyway?” Isolde said, making a face.

“What’s wrong with an alleyway?” Bellara asked.

“I mean, if he’s in a hurry,” Isolde said. “But they smell horrible and don’t look much better.”

“Ooh,” Bellara said, looking enlightened, and pulled out a small parchment scrap to scribble down some notes.

Isolde valiantly tried to hide her growing amusement. Bellara, she supposed, hadn’t been in cities all that often, and rarely outside the main market thoroughfares.

“Okay, next thing I wanted to run by you,” Bellara said eventually. “So the heroine slips and almost falls, and the hero catches her, and her heart is beating so fast from having his strong arms around her and he just looks so handsome that she can’t even hear what he’s asking her and so she answers the wrong question and—”

Isolde blinked. Without meaning to she repeated, “So handsome that she can’t even hear his words over her heartbeat?”

“He’s just so dreamy,” Bellara said, immediately looking carried away. “The curly hair all the way down to his shoulders, golden in the sunlight, and his jaw is just so square and strong and…”

Bellara sighed happily.

Isolde’s eyebrows rose. “He’s an Elf, isn’t he?”

“Yeah! Why?”

Isolde looked away. “No reason.”

An interesting choice for his hair; curls were rare enough among Elves, but the color? Only Humans had hair that could properly be called golden. The Elven shade of blond was always a pale thing; Isolde had never seen a yellow deeper than the color of dried Foxtail.

“And he’s got the brow of a king,” Bellara continued, almost breathless. “And he carries himself like one, too.”

It wasn’t clear to Isolde what the brow of a king would look like, or what that had to do with attractiveness, but she nodded politely.

“What would your ideal serial hero look like?” Bellara asked with interest.

“Oh—I’ve no idea,” Isolde said. “I’ve never read one before.”

Bellara kept looking at Isolde for a beat, open curiosity and excitement on her face. When Isolde didn’t continue, she offered, “If you tell me what you like, I could recommend one for you. Dashing rogues? Nobles in disguise? Lots of twists? Forbidden love? Shepherd with a heart of gold? Abduction?”

There was a fraction of a pause, small enough that it would have been easy to miss.