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Noelle dips her chin in quiet acknowledgement.
Meanwhile, Gorou is trying not to pant at the incredible spread of food before him.
‘T-thank you, Miss Noelle!’ he stammers again, mouth watering. The mists of Tsurumi Island have receded from their lantern, and the chill flees from such warm dishes. Not even the Rifthounds dare disturb them.
‘Of course. Shall we eat?’ she proposes, offering him a set of chopsticks.
And Gorou learns for the first time how Mondstadt’s pancakes so easily split between them: with the sweet tang of whipped cream on his tongue, his tail won’t stop its wagging.
Framing her fingers in the same manner as Nahida, Charlotte looses an understanding oh!
‘How come I’ve never thought of this?’ she wonders aloud, dropping her hands. She always sets up her shots with Monsieur Verite, tilting this way and walking all around. The intrusion of his lens can sometimes upset her subjects; but, what harm can finger-pointing do?
Nahida smiles and drops her own hands. She explains, eyes turned to the hilichurl camp on the horizon, ‘Wisdom doesn’t always mean thinking of the best solution. It also means accepting alternatives – being capable of surrendering old habits.’
‘Like a reporter!’
Xingqiu can’t say he’s pleased by the quirked brow and intrigued smirk on the Guuji’s face… but this is not Liyue, and she is the head of Inazuma’s premiere publishing house.
As she folds the book shut, it comes as a surprise that she doesn’t start making suggestions. He knows her reputation, and how often she scoops out the guts of a novel to replace it with current trends.
‘The moral of the story,’ asks Yae Miko, ‘is the power of friendship, then? Is that truly the message you want to impart upon your readers?’
‘Yes, milady.’
‘Hm… how interesting.’
Verr Goldet reaches out to pluck a hair from Xiao’s left shoulder. His gut flares with panic at her proximity, at the threat of his karmic debt to her life… but he forces himself to relax. Her circumstances are special.
Just like those of Diona Kätzlein.
‘A cat hair,’ the innkeeper remarks, surprise airy in her voice. ‘Have you been spending time with the wild cats, Xiao?’
‘No.’
He’s been lending an ear to a young girl; she has been extracting his long, storied history. He’d not call her a friend, but.
Verr Goldet smiles.
‘I hope you’re having fun.’
She wants to die. She wants to melt into a puddle or turn into a shadow.
The renowned architect Kaveh has finished his rough sketch of her Large Wind Spirit across the wall of the new library.
Sucrose is here as an ambassador from the Knights of Favonius, loaded down with books for Aaru Village. The kids crowding around her with their questions has been bad enough.
Now, her experiments are being immortalised by this starry-eyed creator.
‘What do you think?’ Kaveh asks, turning to her with a grin.
‘Oh,’ says Sucrose, and nothing else.
Her face is flaming red.
Without a moment’s hesitation, Clorinde draws her blade.
The Raiden Shogun observes her with gravity, contemplative with her lids half-fallen over her lavender eyes. She does not call her mighty polearm to battle, nor pull the legendary Musou Isshin from her breast.
‘So it is true,’ she observes. ‘As a mortal, you will nevertheless accept a duel from an Archon.’
Clorinde turns her sword, then slowly lets it fall. ‘I am a Champion Duelist. This is my work.’
‘Do your peers expect to face down a god?’
‘My peers… their choices mean nothing to me.’
‘I see,’ murmurs the Shogun.
Kamisato Ayato is a man who lives his act as the Yashiro Commissioner. He is a mortal who, day or night, can never surrender the tight grip he keeps on his mask.
Watching him – invited by the Traveller to shadow him for a day – leaves Furina pensive. There is an incredible ache in their heart that they cannot fully place.
Once, he turns to them, and the words come from their lips unbidden:
‘You must be very lonely.’
And Kamisato Ayato smiles thinly, like the expression’s shaped by a knife.
‘I believe, Lady Furina, you understand me all too well.’
So gentle is the peal of laughter that spills from Kandake’s lips. Jean is once again tempted to fall into the river of comfort Kandake’s presence offers.
They are meeting in an official capacity to discuss trading resources between Aaru Village and the Favonius Knights. Unofficially, however…
Kandake continues painting her nails, each one a soft green.
‘You’ve never done this?’ Kandake asks. ‘Not once?’
‘… No,’ admits Jean. ‘I… there’s never been time.’
‘Acting Grandmaster, there is always time to care for yourself.’ Kandake finishes her nails, twisting open a tub of pale cream next. ‘You certainly deserve it.’
‘Yes… some astrologists divine the course of fate from tea leaves. Or, if you’re my master, you use the beverage for all sorts of suspicious spells.’
‘Mm.’
‘Do you have a question?’ Mona asks of Lynette, poised over her finished cup of tea. Lynette observes her sleepily. ‘I’m not adept with reading the leaves, but for you, I can try…’
‘… Yes. Will my family be happy?’
It’s such a massive question; Mona hasn’t the power to look that far into the future. Not with tea leaves.
But she knows the answer regardless.
‘With you at their side? Of course.’
Fatui he may be, but he is a cherished friend of the Traveller. Therefore, Sangonomiya Kokomi calls the Watatsumi guards to set their weapons aside.
No one questions her decision, but she sees more than one furrowed brow as she personally escorts Tartaglia to her inner chambers.
If they saw her seat him at her kotatsu and serve him tea, there’d be an outcry.
‘Can’t say I’ve been served by a princess before,’ he chuckles, tracing the rim of his cup.
‘I am no princess,’ she answers. ‘When you are here, you are no Fatuus. Do you understand?’
‘Cheers to that, comrade.’