The elven words, so soon after talking with Emma, make Huguette look up. There is nothing in her, physically, to suggest her mother's blood, she knows. Maker, she's tall for a human, let alone... Well. She doesn't normally look up at the sound of her mother's tongue spoken around her, not unless she's in an alienage.

She looks up and she sees the Herald.

She doesn't see a Dalish mage staring at her in shock, oh no. She sees the Herald of Andraste, she who walked into Val Royeaux full of conviction, she who walked out of the Fade with Andraste behind her. She sees the Dalish Herald greet her - her, elf-blooded and half-caste and flat-ear - in elven, as if Huguette is worth such a greeting.

It'd been so long to get here, pushing herself and running against the lyrium gnawing at her mind, and maybe she's still not entirely recovered. No, she knows she's not, but logic has momentarily fled.

Instead, Huguette stares, swallows, and gets up to bow with her backpiece still in her hands.

"Andaran atish'an, my Lady Herald," she says, the sound of an Orlesian alienage coming from her human mouth.