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If you asked the Snezhnayan children you crossed on the way to Zapolyarny Palace about the Krovavaya Sova, you would receive a cacophony of pleads and sobs. They would claim that they had done everything their parents had told them; came home before dark, didn't speak to strangers, ate their greens, everything they were told to. The Krovavaya Sova still took Natalia’s papa, Erik’s mother never came home and Andrei will never see Big Sister Zoya again. How cruel of one beastly man to destroy whole families with such ease.
The Krovavaya Sova was no man, but a horrible creature. A boogeyman under their beds, in their closet, the eyes in the forest.
If you asked Snezhnayan parents, they’d say that whoever the Krovavaya Sova was, was a vile sick man. That their tall tales to their children to be wary couldn't be filled with more repulsion if they tried. The Fatui have never been blindsided like this by a simple individual before, and it reflected poorly on their state. They claimed him akin to a force of nature, blowing through their countryside. Striking down indiscriminately, those he killed were family to many, and households all over the region sat still with grief. Whatever the goal of this horrid being, no clear motive was ever determined. No consensus from the civilian population bar pure unadulterated rage. Not once did the concept of a revenge-driven massacre ever cross their minds.
No paper truly ever communicated a motive, even if the Tsaritsa herself had declared one, it’s better to unite citizens over an unseen uncaring evil.
The Krovavaya Sova was no boogeyman, but a beast sent to terrify.
If you asked The 11th Fatui Harbinger, he would rather liken the Krovavaya Sova to the Huldra of the east. Whoever the man was, he was far more than a force of nature. He had skill and finesse when it came to his delusion, he dealt hits and took them in turn like no man Tartaglia had fought before. For a while, fighting and besting the Krovavaya Sova was of the highest priority for the Harbinger. He would forgo his regular tasks to inspect encampments around the border, in hopes of falling victim to the seductive prospect of defeating the Krovavaya Sova.
In truth, Childe had only seen the man twice for certain.
In the first instance, he’d been newly appointed and the rumours of the Blood-soaked Bird had only just reached the Palace. They had locked eyes for only a brief moment during the masked crusader's escape, the spitfire behind the peregrine mask was far more alluring than the Harbinger had expected. Childe had let him get away that day. He couldn't care less about the amount of Fatui footsoldiers that would be lost in the process, he would fight the Krovavaya Sova, not for his country, not for the glory of the Tsaritsa, but for his selfish quest for betterment.
And he did. Eight months later, Ajax came toe to toe with his harpy once more. When he looked back on it, the fight itself was underwhelming, the vigilante didn't even have a vision while he had both a delusion and a gift from the gods at his disposal. The sick glee he felt leaving the bloody Krovavaya Sova, unmasked yet still unnamed, in the snow is a particularly fond memory of his. To Ajax, the owl of a man he gazed upon that night was no monster, not really, no more than he was. He was a missed opportunity, a fresh blade not yet sharpened to its fullest potential, an equal in strength to return to further down his journey for power.
To Tartaglia, the Krovavaya Sova was no beast. Just another crushed under his heel in the name of the Tsaritsa.
If you asked Kaeya Alberich, he’d almost lost his life to the beast that lay waste to the Snezhnayan tundra. He recounts the tale frivolously to anyone who will lend an ear. Says the Tsaritsa herself saved his life in a grand act of spite against the creature. What he doesn't say, is that the attack was provoked, by years of white lies that tumbled into landslides of mistruths and deceptions that had all come crashing down as he pulled the cloth out from underneath them. What he doesn't say, is that he had missed an opportunity. An opportunity for connection, comfort, and consolement over shared grief. A chance to truly understand and empathise with a similarly distraught man. Not that they were men. At the time, what had slumped to the ground in front of him was a mere boy, struck with misery.
Kaeya also wouldn't tell you who the Krovavaya Sova is, not that he knows of course.
And if you asked Diluc Ragnvindr? He would simply shrug, stating to had never heard of the Krovavaya Sova, before serving your drink like usual.
Or more accurately, like usual with double the ice bitterly thrown in the glass.