There was something soft behind the wryness, another kind of uptilt. But something made her pause - something other than Varric vouching for the drunk pirate who’d just cleared out half the bar.Ī week later, and when Hawke was trying not to reach for her staff and desperately wishing Varric were here, Isabela defused a fight with a joke and an offer of a drink. And a knife at a throat? That’s last resort, not second. She smooths things over with platitudes and apologies and feels, always, clumsy. They’re both matter-of-fact, Hawke and Isabela, but Hawke is Fereldan abashed is a national state of mind. The first time they met, Hawke thought she’d hate her. Isabela goes quiet when she’s asked about her family says something outrageous, or - more often than she pretends - asks Hawke how her own people are doing, with frequent, horrifying jokes in the conversation but something wistful in her eyes. There are stories on Isabela’s knuckles: old, pale scars. Isabela walks into a room and quietly lights it up, just a corner of it, and by the time you look back and realise that the world is a little quieter, a little darker, she’s already long gone.Īnd yes, Hawke notices Isabela’s strong muscled thighs and the curve of her breasts, because Isabela doesn’t seem to mind her noticing and is also beautiful - but she also notices the elegant, scarred hands. Only Varric can catch Hawke looking, wink at her, and make her laugh in the same way.

That coiledness is so often in the others - Anders has the twitchiness of an apostate Fenris pretends to be calm but looks over his shoulder too often Aveline is always two hands’-lengths from her shield - but Isabela seems self-aware, wry about it.

And then the lilt of her voice, always just a little amused, but the strength of her stance and the way her hands stray to her daggers often when she walks into a crowded room.

That’s the first thing Hawke notices, her smile. Always laughing, the sound of it carrying on the wind, there and then gone before Hawke even notices she’s there - and quick, tongue quicker than her blades. The rewrite is finally finished!! from july 2020 to september 2021, i have improved so much in my writing and i am so happy to be sharing this with you, i’m incredibly proud of it. Caught in a river of sorrow and loss, Eden Hawke finds the current brings her to the one person who knows how to throw a heck of a party to lift her spirits: Varric Tethras.

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