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The air at Windrise feels different today. How, she couldn’t say, but it is enough to give Jean pause, keen eyes taking in her surroundings with additional caution. Yet despite what her instincts tell her, she can spot nothing out of place.
Still, the feeling persists.
It’s only when she approaches the giant oak at the center of the valley, the symbol of Mondstadt’s hero, that something changes. The vision at her back pulses, strong enough that Jean startles. She stops midstride, pulling her vision from her belt to see its light flicker, reacting to something nearby. Step by step, she follows as her vision guides her onward, past the stone steps, past the statue of the Seven until she comes to a stop at the foot of the great tree. Reaching out, Jean presses her hand against a large root, and at the contact, her vision flares, a blazing turquoise that doesn’t fade.
Her eyes widen, breath hitching in surprise, adrenaline setting her nerves alight. Here it is then, the source. The world around her seems to hush, waiting with bated breath. As if fate itself were tapping on her shoulder.
She looks up.
Light fills her eyes.
Crystalflies, more than she’s ever seen gathered in one place, hover beneath the great tree’s canopy, hidden from outside view.
The sight is enough to steal the breath from her lungs. In the shadows of the canopy, the glow from the crystalflies stands out all the more, like stars dotting the evening sky.
Certainty cements itself. There’s something there, waiting at the top of the tree. It’s her duty as a knight to find out what.
Setting her sword aside, Jean takes a running leap, kicking off a thick root to launch herself up and grab onto the trunk. It’s been a long time since she’s scaled a tree, let alone one this large, but Jean finds that the muscle memory is still there. Slowly, she makes her way up, one handhold at a time. Even now the crystalflies continue to hover, undisturbed by her presence when they’d normally have long since fled.
Nothing could have prepared her for what she finds up there.
A child, slumbering in the cradle of the tree’s branches.
Jean freezes in shock, nearly losing her hold on the bark.
This was the source of the elemental disturbance? Impossible.
But the way these pure elemental beings gather around the child, or rather, what appears to be a child, doesn’t lie.
Surrounded by crystalflies, they look like something holy, something divine. They can’t possibly be human. Who is this person?
As Deaconess, Barbara starts her mornings with a prayer. To the guiding winds of Mondstadt, she prays for strength when exhausted, for wisdom in times of tumult, for courage to act when trouble arises, and many other such blessings, not only for herself, but for all those she holds dear.
Upon reaching the cathedral, she greets the sisters and brothers setting up for the morning sermon before making her way to the medical wing. There, she checks in with the nightshift nurses, taking note of any changes that’ve happened in the night before she begins making her rounds. Most of the patients she’s in charge of are able to be sent home after breakfast, while others require a longer stay. As she moves from bed to bed, Barbara makes sure to keep a bright smile on her face, patiently soothing wounds and easing worries.
That smile dims once she reaches the last bed. It’s been days, but the boy Jean brought back has shown no signs of waking. As far as they can tell, there’s nothing preventing him from doing so, no injuries, no foreign energies disrupting the body’s natural flow. The boy is perfectly healthy. He just won’t wake. There’s not much else they can do for him besides making sure he’s clean and comfortable.
Still, that’s no reason to be rude.
Throwing her shoulders back, Barbara widens her smile, knowing that any sort of frown will show in her voice.
“Good morning!” she greets cheerfully, but softly so as to not disturb the other patients. “It’s Barbara again. Today is the third day since you’ve joined us here in Mondstadt. I’m sure you’re sick and tired of this by now, but please bear with me. We want to be sure that you’ll be in the best condition possible when you wake. Speaking of which, the weather today is perfect for a picnic. Doesn’t a meal outside accompanied by an ice cold drink sound nice? Good Hunter’s food is always delicious, though it’s never as spicy as I’d like.”
As she continues to chatter on, Barbara makes her checks, comparing the readings with those from last night. Once the boy’s vitals have been recorded, Barbara sets her clipboard down, moving to grab a clean towel from the cart behind her. One quick use of her vision later, and the cloth is now damp enough to use without the need to wring out the excess water.
Turning back around, she nearly shrieks. Without her noticing, the mysterious boy has woken up and is now sitting upright, blinking blearily in the dim morning light.
“You’re awake!” Barbara exclaims breathlessly, trying and failing to calm her startled pulse.
Still in a daze, it takes the boy a moment to register her presence besides him. When he does, turning to look at her with brilliant turquoise eyes, Barbara can’t help but gasp. They’re strangely bright despite the dark of the room, more than logic would dictate. But Barbara can’t think of any of that now. She can hardly think of anything at all. Those eyes have pinned her in place as surely as if she’d been glued there, peering straight into her very soul.
The boy squints.
“Gunnhildr?” he asks groggily.
Barbara gapes, unable to respond before the boy’s eyes roll up and he promptly passes out.
In the ensuing panic, she forgets to think on the curiosity of what the boy had said until much, much later. Even then, Barbara reasons that she must have misheard. After all, there’s no way someone outside of Mondstadt would think to associate the name Gunnhildr with her.
When it comes to observing people, there’s an art to it that few can master, but Kaeya thinks he’s got it down pat by now.
First and foremost, the ability to mask your presence, blending in with your surroundings whilst still in plain sight. Paying attention to not only your target, but to your own surroundings as well. Keeping your distance is best unless you’re trying to eavesdrop, and if you simply had to look, being careful not to stare directly at the person in question. The last part is a bit difficult with only one eye, but he makes do. Reflective surfaces were of great help there, and not just with observing his targets. It also prevents him from being caught off guard by someone much stealthier than him, such as, say, a certain shadowy sister of the church.
“It’s not like you to choose to sit up here,” Rosaria comments as she joins him, a mug of her own in hand. A quick glance at its contents tells him all he needs to know about her presence here, likely for the same reason he is. “Is the company downstairs so lacking?”
Kaeya laughs. “You know as well as I do that it’s best to observe people from up high.” After all, most people never thought to look up. An oversight he’s gladly made use of time and again. He’s not sure how well it’s been working out with this particular bard however. The boy’s a slippery one, capable of evading even the most watchful of gazes.
“You’re actually working overtime?”
“Is that not also what you’re doing right now?”
Rosaria gives him a look of unbridled disgust. “As if. I’m avoiding the festival planning.”
Kaeya hums. That’s right, it was almost time for Windblume again, wasn't it? How time flies.
“Deflections aside, who’s the unlucky fool who’s drawn your attention? You wouldn’t be out here drinking juice instead of wine otherwise.”
“The same one that’s drawn yours I imagine,” Rosaria says drily. “Unless there’s someone other than the Fatui that's been making a ruckus lately?”
Kaeya pretends to think. “Well, there’s been talk of a thief going around, wasn't there? Not to mention the reports of monsters behaving strangely. The Knights will have their hands full with the increased patrols. Oh, and something about pieces of the landscape changing overnight.” He clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “Poor Mika has his work cut out for him once he returns.”
Rosaria scoffs. “Now who’s deflecting? The kid’s spoken to a few of your knights, right? Their impressions?”
“Friendly, with a honeyed tongue. Very skilled in his chosen trade. Word is that he’s charmed half of Mondstadt already.”
“It’s been what, a week? The people of this city are so easily swayed.”
He shrugs. “We Mondstadters do so love our music. I haven’t had the chance to listen in on one of his performances, but he’s always drawn a crowd whenever he does. I do believe I’ve even seen some of the elderly folk shedding a nostalgic tear.” Picking up his glass, he swirls its contents with a thoughtful hum. “Curious, isn’t it? For a person no one seems to recognize, his knowledge of Mondstadt’s songs is quite vast.”
They share a glance, for once in full agreement.
Suspicious.