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Mona hasn’t been in Mondstadt very long, but even she can tell when something is horribly out of place.
Specifically, she can feel the awkwardness oozing out of a strange visitor crawling across her skin as she watches him desperately try and make his intentions known to a somewhat distressed Flora.
She didn’t dare try and scry this strange man’s constellation; from the way his face was twisted into a perfectly stern expression to the spear slung across his back, its tip of sharpened jade glinting in the sunlight, there was no telling what this stranger knew and what his levels of perception were.
So, Mona decided, watching him give up trying to communicate with a now teary-eyed Flora, she was going to follow him to wherever he was going and figure out why such a strange individual was loitering around Mondstadt and harassing merchants.
Mona watched intently as the strange man exited the gates of Mondstadt, his strange robes billowing in the wind. As soon as he was beyond the threshold, Mona bolted from her hiding spot behind the wall of a building, lunging for the gates and the visitor—
—only to see that he was gone.
Bubbles dissipated into thin air around her, her lavender eyes wide in confusion; where had he gone?
Realizing that perhaps she was dealing with something beyond the realm of mortality, she made it her next mission to interrogate Flora and figure out what the man was bugging her for.
Flora was red eyed as Mona approached, her cheeks red from what was no doubt crying; Mona made sure to approach her lightly and offer condolences when necessary.
“Miss Flora, dear,” she began, smiling sweetly down at the merchant child, “is everything all right?”
“Er,” Flora began, sniffling to herself and rubbing her eyes, “I got… scared, Miss Mona... There was a man, and he was angry, and I got scared…”
“Oh dear, I’m so sorry,” Mona apologized, watching as Flora nodded in agreement, “can you tell me what the man was here for? I think he seemed a little confused and didn’t know how to ask for your help.”
Flora nodded, lowering her hands and pointing to a flower pot by her. There, in the pot, a beautiful white flower grew, its six petals flowing out from the center in a way that could only be described as elegant.
“He kept pointing to the cecilias… I think he wanted them, but he… he was just so scary, Miss Mona! He sounded so… mad…”
Flora covered her eyes again, turning away from Mona; at that point, Mondstadt’s local astrologer knew exactly what she needed to know, and assured Flora, “Don’t worry, I’ll find that man and get him to apologize. You just wait right here, Miss Flora.”
Flora nodded, sniffling once more; Mona’s word was strong and could be trusted.
Now, Mona thought, the man was looking for cecilias. Where could she find some cecilias…?
In a burst of bubbles, Mona set out for the one place in Mondstadt where the flowers grew freely.
It must’ve been a lucky guess, because as Mona materializes on Starsnatch cliff, she spots the man she was looking for, spear still slung across his back as he is very obviously crouching in the grass.
She takes this moment to absorb the sight of him. There is something definitely odd about this individual, she thinks, from his teal-accented hair to his skin-tight clothing, all the way to the long, sharpened spear he has on his back.
As she begins her approach, the man stands swiftly, the spear materializing in one hand; in the other, Mona catches a glimpse of the white petals of a cecilia, held closely to his chest.
Thoroughly frightened, a bit unsure of how to approach this stranger, she speaks the only question she can think of.
“Who are you?”
The man turns.
Mona’s not entirely sure what she was expecting, but it wasn’t the piercing gold stare fixing her in place, nor was it the absolutely vacant expression he had on his face. Her eyes traced the lavender diamond embellished on his forehead, noticing the sharp vermillion accents framing his eyes.
He was oddly beautiful, in a way, the same way a steep mountain peak invokes a sense of fear and wonder into its viewer. Beauty and danger mingled together, plastered across his smooth, unmoving features.
Stunned, she asks again.
“Who are you?”
The man’s eyes lazily shift from her to the flower in his hands. In a split second, he is in front of her, holding the flower towards her and staring at her with that hard, piercing gaze. When she doesn’t respond to his actions, only staring in disbelief, mouth slightly open in a questioning manner, his deadpan sharpens into anger as he spits words from his mouth.
“This flower. Show me where I can find them.”
“Why?”
Mona’s hands slap to her mouth; she’d been so enraptured by the strangeness of this situation that she’d inadvertently responded with the first thought to pop into her head.
Who was this man? Why was he here? Why did he look so intimidating, and why had he been so ready to pull his spear?
The man’s golden eyes narrow, shifting back down to the flower in his hand. A small frown places on his face as he whispers, “I’m gathering them for someone.”
“What was that?”
“I’m gathering them for someone!” The man huffs, rolling his eyes and turning away. Mona can hear him hiss under his breath, “This was a terrible idea.”
Mona’s eyes darted from the flower to the scrunched expression on the man’s face; he looked pained, almost upset, like he was accepting failure. Despite the strangeness of the situation, even Mona knew when it looked like someone needed help, and to her, this man needed it badly.
Taking a tentative step towards him, she offered, “If you’re looking for cecilias, I can show you where to find them.” When he turned to look at her, eyebrows raised in disbelief, she gestured to the cliff before them, “They grow just up there, in the field. Follow me and I’ll take you to find them.”
The man was on his feet in seconds, spooking Mona slightly, but the determination in his eyes eased her conscience, his tight grip on the porcelain flower’s stem showing just how dedicated he was to finding these flowers.
Well, whatever the reason, Mona would help him. After all, it would make it easier to coax an apology to Flora out of him if she were on his good side than on the other end of that spear.
“Lead the way,” he exhaled.
“You said… these were called cecilias?”
The man stood before a field of white flowers, his eyes wide with wonder; Mona stood beside him, arms crossed over her bust, lavender eyes gazing at him with scrutiny. So far, he’d proven himself to be an unknowledgable fool on the topic of flowers, although to be fair it didn’t seem like he'd spent much time in Mondstadt before. Still, you’d think that he’d at least know the name of the flower he’s looking for!
“Yes,” Mona drawled, fighting the urge to roll her eyes; keep up the act, she told herself, all to get him to apologize to Flora. “They’re only ever known to grow here, on Starsnatch Cliff… have you ever been to Mondstadt before—”
“Yes,” he interrupts, his head jerking towards her; his glistening amber eyes were narrowed in suspicion as he regarded her. “I knew they grew around here somewhere, so I headed here after that merchant failed to aid me.”
“That merchant,” Mona’s voice escapes in a hiss as she uncrosses her arms and places them square against her hips, “is a child . And you,” she took a step towards him, pushing a finger against his chest; she tried not to focus on the way his pupils constricted, face deadpanning at her flagrant invasion of privacy, “need to go apologize to her. You made her cry.”
To her surprise, the man only scoffs and turns back to the flowers. “It doesn’t concern me what mortals think… I do not engage myself in mortal affairs.”
“What do you mean, ‘mortal affairs?’”
The man turned his head sharply once more, a frown on his face. Mona knew the answer before he even spoke.
“As a Liyue adeptus,” the man began, turning his body fully to face her, “I would have had your insufferable, nosy mortal head by now.” her eyes flicked to the spear on his back, thoughts of what would happen to her scrambling through her mind. She wasn’t going to be hurt, was she?”
“However,” the man’s stern facade fell, replaced by a forlorn look that tugged at his mouth, brows furrowed in defeat, “I am in Mondstadt… and he would not be pleased if I were to make trouble here. I… came here looking for flowers, and you are trying to help… even though you have proven yourself incredibly annoying. You aren’t very good at hiding, you know?”
Mona tries not to think about that remark, and instead offers, “Could you please tell me who exactly it is you are looking to give these flowers to? I mean, can you even be sure it’s the right flower? You don’t even know the name.”
The man sighs.
“I’m… they’re, well, what do you humans call it…” his hand twists up to his chin, his brows furrowed in deep thought, choosing his words carefully, “They’re for what you humans would call ‘my boyfriend’...?”
Mona cannot believe this man.
“And, I know that he loves these flowers.” he holds up a cecilia, delicate petals waving in the wind. Mona’s eyes widen at the strange scent of earth and unfamiliar blooms, mingling with the soft smells of the nearby sea and the cecilias. It’s… a nostalgic scent, and it almost brings a tear to Mona’s eye. “So, I thought… I’d do something… that he would do… and get him some flowers... for an anniversary tomorrow.”
The man is still holding the flower up, but Mona can barely tear her focus away from how red his face has become. His free hand is covering his nose and mouth as he avoids her gaze, choosing to look down at the flower instead.
“You are hopeless,” Mona announces staunchly, much to the adeptus’ chagrin; his blush is gone and he’s scowling at her again. “But, because romance is an entirely human matter and because what you’re doing is admittedly incredibly cute, I will continue to help you. And,” she steps up to him, a smug smile playing across her face, “you will accompany me and apologize to Flora. Does that sound good?”
The man is quiet. His eyes are darting across Mona’s face, taking in her features, but his eyes relax and he nods. “A contract is a contract… and I do not break my contracts.”
“Now,” Mona sighs, turning to the field of flowers before them, “mind telling me exactly who this ‘lucky guy’ is you’re picking flowers for?”
The man is quiet once more, but Mona can see the way his eyes soften, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips; he twirls the flower between his fingers with a startling gentleness she wouldn’t have guessed he was capable of.
“I believe you Mondsadtians call him Barbatos.”