#source; g.enpact

[daybreakrising]

starter call | @alatusatlas

There was nothing quite like the peace and tranquility of Liyue at night. He had seen it from all angles, from Qingce Village to Qingxu Pool, the peaks of Huaguang Stone Forest to the beaches of Yaoguang Shoal. He could spend hours simply listening to the call of the creatures that maintained night as their domain.

He stands on the uppermost terrace of Wangshu Inn, looking out over the marsh, face turned towards the gentle breeze that rolled in across the water. To truly appreciate the beauty of Liyue's landscape, you needed to be up high. The Inn was one of his favourite spots for that reason.

It is Changsheng who first notices they're not alone, despite the late hour. Her head lifts, tongue flicking between her jaws. "Hm?" A light smile plays upon the doctor's lips as he turns from the view, expecting another guest of the Inn or, perhaps, Verr Goldet or her husband. The last thing he expects to see is the famed adeptus.

"Conquerer of Demons." He gives a slight incline of the head, a gesture of acknowledgement and respect. "Forgive me - am I intruding on your own moment of peace?"

[verbosecorsair]

JACK RACKHAM: GENSHIN VERSE.

Quartermaster of The Ranger known for being more skilled in wordplay than swordplay. There are those who do not know how a man such as Jack has managed to survive the trials and tribulations he has faced in life, yet still, even now, he claims that he simply has a role to play.

Hydro Vision | Sword User | ☆☆☆☆

Character Details.

A tall male with a propensity to style himself in a peacock-like fashion, owing to his family history in the textile and tailoring trades of Fontaine. He is the Quartermaster of The Ranger, one of the most notorious crews on Nassau, an island that sits between Fontaine and Natlan, belonging to neither nation. With a tongue as sharp as his wits he serves Captain Charles Vane, while still maintaining some contacts back in Fontaine for the sake of information. Though clever, he can often provoke the worst in others, so occasionally one may hear the ringing of an expletive in the air followed by his name. "Yes, yes, fuck me..."

Character Story I.

The boy staggers into the shop, bearing the weight of his father on his shoulders. It had been a mistake to go to the service in honour of Furina, especially when his father had spent the morning in the bottom of the bottle. Once inside a stream of expletives leave his father's throat he staggers into the back of the shop to sleep off the worst of his troubles and the boy turns to the store. Calico in every colour stretches before him, he runs his hands over the fabrics and lips curl into a smile. I'll take it on... I'll ensure that we will not fail... It is a vow John intends to make good on. To ensure Rackham's continues to be a name throughout Fontaine.

Character Story II.

The rain dampens his knees as he sits outside the shop, cheek smarting from the angry mark left on his skin. He still wears his grieving clothes, made by his own hands, tie loose around his throat as the note in his hand absorbs the water from a puddle. The Hydro Dragon must share his anguish, for the heavens have opened and show no signs of relenting. He had hoped to bring the shop to new soaring heights. Instead he has inherited a mountain of debt he will not be able to pay off and a boarded up building with no rent to speak of. Tomorrow the Marechaussee Phantom come to clamp him in irons. He can already feel their weight.

Character Story III.

"Did you hear of the Rackham trial? Can you believe the audacity of that man?" "I heard he kept the trial running for three days only to request a duel at the end? He must have thought it all a joke!" "I've never known one so young to be so eloquent!" Whispers circulate the court of Fontaine, the gossip circles talking of the teen who faced Neuvillette in the courtroom, choosing the represent himself for the debts accrued, arguing his points for several days before demanding a duel as opposed to facing the Oratrice that would ultimately sentence him to a life within Meropide. The boy rises after his duel, blood spatter across his shirt, eyes narrowed in determination as he looks to Lady Furina and gives a bow. This stage is one to leave, he now has a greater endeavour to pursue.

Character Story IV.

"Keep your bloody hands where I can see them." The harsh tone snaps across the table where Jack sits, fingers slipping across his cards as the pot in the middle of the table grows. This employ is odious, the man opposite him a foul captain determined to belittle and bully his way through the crew, and his own patience is ready to snap at the next incident. Yet here, at the card table, is not the opportune moment, and so he folds, pressing both hands to the table and leaving the dingy bar for the deluge outside. "The head beckons gentlemen, must be all this rain..."

Character Story V.

"You're too fucking clever for your own good, Jack." The captain's words bring a grin to the quartermaster's lips as he raises his flagon in the direction of the other man. His skills in wordplay have managed to run rings around other sailors on this lawless nation that sits somewhere between the seas of Fontaine and Natlan. Nassau is not a place suited to most, but Jack Rackham has taken to it like a duck to water. Here he can allow his full capacity for scheming to be unleashed, attached to the crew of The Ranger. "There’s a whole world out there that every so often rewards ambition. Mark my words. Today the crumbs, tomorrow the loaf. Perhaps someday the whole damn boulangerie."

Rackham's Razor.

It is an ornate thing, the scrimshawed razor etched with a compass and pirate ship on the handle. The whetstone runs along the blade carefully, a great level of care taken in refining the sharpness, in ensuring that it is ready to use in an instant. At first glance, one might assume it is only a tool for shaving, yet this tool carries a far bloodier history than nicks upon the chin. It is the greatest weapon in his arsenal, and one he keeps ready for any instance, for most people do not even think to consider it as a weapon of choice. "To be underestimated, It's an incredible gift."

Vision.

The deluge soaks him through within seconds of stepping outside of that horrible bar, avoiding those doing their business in the river and instead studying the cards he has in his hand. Two Jacks. Impossible in a game such as this, yet here nonetheless unknown to all. He weighs up the need to play them versus allowing himself to be seen a failure when a shout rages out into the night. Feet rapidly take him to the cellar of the bar where a woman lies prone on the floor, her husband, the owner of the establishment - James Bonny - stands over her hand outstretched and spewing a tirade of insults. Two steps into the room is all it takes, two steps and a wide slash the man barely releasing a what before the blood begins to dribble down his neck. The man is left to die as he helps her from the floor, words already falling from his lips to explain away the details, to help her escape this hideous life. When he stands, there is a weight in his pocket, a softly glowing deep blue orb encased in a regional frame. "Well would you look at that..." he breathes, lips curling into a smile as he returns inside the bar. "Celestial endorsement."

[daybreakrising]

starter call | @resolutepath

The door swings open before him, letting out a burst of noise alongside the inviting glow of lamplight. Voices, many of them, all talking over each other with varying degrees of volume, competing with the sounds of glasses clinking, chairs scraping against wooden floors, and the soft chords of music filtering through it all. It's chaos.

Wriothesley loves it.

The surface is alien to him now. He's spent so long underwater that the space is too vast, too open. He prefers the noise and the walls. The journey from Fontaine has left him with a peculiar sensation that he can't quite place - but, he tells himself, it will be worth it for this exact moment. He lifts a hand, pats the package tucked within a pocket.

He steps through the open door, having to duck his head somewhat to pass beneath the lintel. Cool eyes scan the faces within, passing over the drinkers at the various tables, until they settle on a figure behind the bar. He's unmistakable, of course. Even were it not for the striking red hair, Wriothesley would know him immediately.

As he stands there in the doorway, he becomes aware of eyes turning to him. It's not unexpected. He's a stranger here, and he looks the type to cause trouble (and, once, he might have). He ignores them all and strides up to the bar, claiming a stool without once taking his eyes off the bartender. Maintaining eye contact, he smirks, then reaches into his pocket for the package he's carried all the way from the Fortress. He slaps it down onto the bar and slides it across in a gesture that looks utterly suspect.

Just as he planned. "Got the goods for you, Master Diluc."

[daybreakrising]

@resolutepath: "You are... different..." The young zombie's head tilts, tipping to the left a curious expression upon her face. Perhaps those who are other can sense each other, their differences calling out like.. . The thought eludes her, gone in the wind. "I'm sorry. I am Qiqi. I am zombie and I... forget." A pause as she rubs her head and then sighs. "Welcome to Bubu Pharmacy. How can we help?" [ for beisht! ]

The little one is curious indeed. She could sense something different about her the moment she set eyes on her - and she has heard the whispers about the town regarding the young girl at the pharmacy. A zombie... how interesting. She has little experience in dealing with those who are... undead. Immediately she desires to know everything, but she must be careful not to ask too many questions.

She feels herself tense at the zombie's words. She may not be the first to acknowledge the otherness about Li Yangxing, but there is something in her gaze that feels as though she is seeing straight through her disguise.

Thankfully, it seems that a side-effect of her prolonged existence beyond death is an absent mind.

"I am seeking certain ingredients." She offers Qiqi a smile, her gaze drifting to the racks and drawers of various items on display. "I have a list, if that is easier for you." She produces the list and slides it across the counter.

It was information, too, that she sought, but she isn't sure if she will find it in this absent-minded child. It was her guardian, the doctor, that she had hoped to run into. She has heard he deals with unique characters. If anyone in Liyue would know of who she seeks, it would be him, surely?

"Some of these items are rare indeed," she observes, studying the shelves, "does the pharmacy collect them, or order them in?"

[daybreakrising]

starter call | @resolutepath

He shuffles the deck of cards in his hands with well-practiced ease, eyeing his opponent across the table. He's played in many various locations before, but in the back rooms of a funeral parlour is definitely a first. Still, it's quiet, it's peaceful, and it's a far cry from the otherwise more socialable tea rooms and restaurants of Liyue Harbour. He certainly has no complaints.

As he sets the readied deck down and begins to arrange the game layout, he looks Hu Tao dead in the eye. "I have a question for you." His tone is serious - though that's nothing out of the ordinary, really - and his face betrays nothing.

"What do you call a funeral ship?" There's the faintest twitch at the corners of his mouth, a hint of a smile that's desperate to crack. "A sea-hearse." There's a wink of humour in his dark amber eyes. "Do you get it? Sea-hearse, like a seahorse?"

[daybreakrising]

@resolutepath | [CHECK]: after an unexpectedly violent situation, sender frantically rushes to check if the receiver is okay, cupping their face to look closer. [ tighnari to cyno ]

His breath comes in sharp, harsh pants, the air around him still crackling with the remnants of Electro. He stands over the husk of the Ruin Grader, now sporting a rather large explosive hole in its chest where he'd torn it open on his last attack. Its insides are smoking, filling the air with an unpleasant, acrid smell. He lifts a foot, plants it upon the slightly warm metal, and gives the machine a hearty nudge.

Just to be sure.

He has only a few brief seconds to acknowledge the running steps towards him before hands clutch at his shoulders and forcibly turn him around. He catches a glimpse of flattened-down ears and a look of fear as Tighnari's hands suddenly cup his face in a grasp that is equal parts soft and firm. Brown-green eyes are wide with concern as they scan his features frantically.

Warmth blooms in Cyno's chest. He lets his polearm slip from his grasp to clatter to the ground, bringing his own hands up to curl his fingers lightly around Tighnari's wrists. "I'm fine." He'll be a little bruised later, for sure, and there might be some cuts or minor injuries to deal with, but nothing that warrants the level of concern exuding from the Forest Ranger. "But I think we can say our peaceful walk is ruined."

[daybreakrising]

starter call | @lunarscorned

His trips into Mondstadt are becoming more frequent. The city still overwhelms him, at times, but if he has the company of friends, he finds he can tolerate it more easily. Still, though, he always longs to return to Wolvendom as soon as possible.

After saying a farewell to Bennett, he turns for the gates, hood drawn up over his head. His thoughts are fixed upon getting back into the open air, on what food he could forage on the way back. Perhaps, he muses, if he's lucky, he could bring a boar back to the pack.

He stops suddenly, just on the approach to the bridge. His nose has picked up a familiar scent and, sure enough, he catches sight of golden hair ahead of him. A smile breaks out across his face and he finds himself lifting a hand into the air before calling out. "Friend! I knew your scent!"

[daybreakrising]

starter call | @whimsiicalwonders

"You can sit down, you know." The Warden leans back in his chair, the picture of relaxation, one leg crossed comfortably over the other. His hand cradles a cup like some might a wine glass, steam lightly rising in lazy coils. A second cup, also steaming, sits expectantly on the desk in front of him, positioned deliberately before the empty, awaiting seat.

Cool eyes drift over the other's face, noting the hard set of his features and the clear suspicion in his eyes. Well, that's to be expected. He can hardly blame the boy for being cautious, all things considered. "Relax. You're not in trouble." A pause, a tilt of his head as if considering something. "Unless there's something you'd like to confess, of course." He smiles, sly, a hint of humour in the curve of his lips.

"And before you overreact again, yes, your siblings are fine."