everything yen does on skellige in tw3 gives me the strongest she would not fuckin say that feelings imaginable
especially given her motivation in both the books and games is "desperately need to find ciri" and yet she acts wildly, viscerally different.
book yen on skellige: drops to her knees to help a stranger who's miscarrying, doubts the existence of any goddess but tries to acquire a magical artifact needed to find ciri by visiting a temple and agreeing to pray with the priestesses, literally earns the blessing of a goddess through her self-sacrifice and is freely given the magical artifact,
game yen on skellige: pisses everyone off, breaks in and steals a magical artifact needed to find ciri and then proceeds to blindly use it despite warnings, has no sympathy for a dead kid who literally died so ciri could escape, feels no remorse about her dead kid necromancy destroying the sacred garden of the same goddess who she literally was supposed to have earned the blessing of on this same island under the same circumstances and and--
Hey no one asked but I wanna talk about ✨ Freyja Montayne ✨
I love this absolutely rough-n-tumble herbo of a giant woman SO DANG MUCH.
Why?
Because when I came into G/t I genuinely felt an emptiness for the kind of thing that my heart craved. I wanted to find a genuinely Giant woman who was big and strong, loud and proud, a big dork and the absolutely purest of sweethearts. I dumped everything that brought me joy in life—both platonically and romantically—into a character and just made her so self-indulgently.
Freyja is powerful, but gentle; immense, but kind; passionate, but patient. She truly is the kinda giant woman that I daydream about all the time because she just is all of my favorite parts of G/t and more.
I’m so excited to share more about her with y’all 💖
Huitzilopochtli: I warn you, I've been training to kill since birth.
Freyja: Wow, and how long have you been training to be a prat?
Huitzilopochtli: You can't address me like that.
Freyja: Sorry. How long have you been training to be a prat, my lord?