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The Omni-Ubiquity Net is a wondrous invention. When used on an animal, it recreates its essence to be placed in a different location. The Umbertail Falcon’s essence, however, cannot be captured, nor can it be replicated, and even Wakamurasaki, the creator of the Omni-Ubiquity Net, cannot fully explain why. Perhaps it is their tenacity, their inherent need to struggle against authority, or simply their biology, one may never know.
Nonetheless, Umbertail Falcons are no stranger to Diluc. Wineries have traditionally kept falcons. Diluc’s father, the previous head of the Ragnvindr family, also kept a few Umbertail Falcons for the sole purpose of guarding the winery from insects and intruders alike. Diluc tamed his first Umbertail Falcon when he was ten, a rite of passage for all Ragnvindr heirs, a tribute to the Falcon of the West, a tradition since their bloodline was first traced back to Vennessa.
Umbertail Falcons are extremely loyal to their owners. Once conditioned, they remember their owners for life. Ownership of the Winery’s Umbertail Falcons would have transferred to Diluc had Crepus not been slaughtered by the Ursa the Drake. But since Crepus was not alive to initiate the transfer, they had to put down all of Dawn Winery’s Umbertail Falcons, with only Diluc’s as the sole survivor.
Now, the falcon does not pick at pests and guard the grapes, but to carry his scrolls to contacts from afar, working together to serve his revenge and dismantle the Fatui for good.
Would Father be proud, Diluc wonders, of what their family’s representative animal has been reduced to? Would he condemn their usage away from the winery, or praise Diluc for his creativity? Would he still inherit the winery with his extracurricular activities, or would Crepus demand he put a stop to it and rejoin the Knights?
Because even at the age of twenty-four, even though Crepus’ blood has long run cold and his body has long rotted away, Diluc still yearns for his father’s validation, his father’s warmth.
Yelan herself knows that she is not known to most people. Rather, she cannot be known, due to her status as Liyue’s premiere intelligence agent.
(Not that she minds, because she loves the obscurity that comes with her job, that allows her to walk down the streets of Liyue unrecognised, where someone like Lady Ningguang or Lady Keqing would be stopped for advice left and right. In other words, she prefers to be free.)
She shares this commonality with one of Liyue’s oldest protectors, the boy-adeptus General Alatus, or Xiao, as he prefers to be known.
Yelan had come to be acquainted with Xiao when a freak accident landed them at the bottom of the Chasm, and has kept in contact with him since. Purely for official business, of course, as the humans and the adepti must keep a tentative, high-strung alliance for the safety of Liyue Harbour and Rex Lapis’ legacy.
She has stopped by Wangshu Inn today, officially to take a break before moving on to the main city, but also to drop Xiao and the rest of the adepti an update on the current situation with the Fatui. She has served as messenger pigeon between the Liyue Qixing and the adepti for so long and received no visible feedback when passing on their message that she has to suppress a flinch when Xiao appears at her back and speaks.
“Why do you persevere? Mortals have such short lifespans. Why toil away for a cause that you cannot see the end of?”
Toil? Yelan would hardly call her job toiling. If anything, it provides her a steady stream of income, a vast amount of information, and still leaves room for lackeys to do the dirty work for her.
“What about you? Working for a master who no longer exists? For a cause you’ve long been set free from?”
It is a cruel thing to say, knowing how many comrades Xiao has lost over the years. But he does not react, at least not outwardly. “Protecting Liyue is my purpose,” he settles on instead.
“You’re free now.”
“And I choose to use my freedom to continue fulfilling my duty.”
Jinpeng. The Golden-Winged King. But Yelan, nor any of her sources, have ever witnessed his allegedly magnificent wings. Rumour has it that they were torn away in a fierce battle, or that he gave them to Rex Lapis willingly in exchange for mercy. Yelan is now inclined to believe the latter theory, that he willingly crippled himself to serve his master, grounded himself and restricted himself from flight so that he could be useful.
"If there's nothing else, Adeptus Xiao, I'd like to rest now. Mortals cannot toil all day," Yelan huffs, a hint of sarcasm dripping from her voice.
With nary but a shift in the wind, Xiao is gone again.
It is not a bird that exists in Teyvat anymore. It has been annihilated, just like the rest of her kind, and mentions of it only exist in folk tales and lore. She carries it with her, or at least, the remnants of what it once was. Because she, too, is a relic of an old time.
The dove. Said to be a sweet, gentle bird that symbolises peace, freedom and love, with feathers as white as snow and heralded as the bringer of hope, traces of its existence only exist as pieces of her hair ornament.
Birds evolved their warm-blooded nature differently from other mammals. So, too, did she evolve her ability to care differently from humans. She loves, but she loves so differently from everyone else. Caring for the world and wishing to make it a better place, she is told, is not love, at least not in the way she wishes.
She cannot love the way humans love, or she will be cursed. But how can anyone, let alone Columbina, love the way humans love? She sees the way the end up, consumed by their anger and hatred that stemmed from their so-called 'love', driven to madness and greed and shattered when their 'love' expires?
Let the humans have their love now. Just like the fragile dove, it too shall fall and become a part of history.
Once upon a time, the Dusk Bird was able to communicate with humans. Not only could it understand speech, it was said to have understood the written language of humans as well. Now it is reduced to a mere messenger pigeon, capable of only carrying the messages of others.
Kaveh wonders, sometimes, what happened to the majestic Dusk Bird, for it to lose its capacity for speech and understanding. The Amurta scholars have done some research and attempted to understand why, and Kaveh has read the papers out of curiosity. Interestingly, the Amurta scholars have discerned a few particular patterns of calls from the Dusk Bird that seem to be repeated again and again, though what the Dusk Birds are saying is anyone's guess.
If the Dusk Bird retained its ability to communicate, would it be able to tell Kaveh what it needs? Or, if Kaveh takes a new perspective, perhaps language is not needed for communication. After all, the creature does not need to articulate the words "help me" for Kaveh to understand what it wants when it pulls up screeching at Kaveh's dormitory window on a snowy day, one wing broken and bloody, demanding to be let in.
Despite his limited funds as a student, he nurses the bird back to health. He consults his Amurta friends and learns how to care for the bird, lets them set its wing and bandage it. He purchases its feed and allows it to nest in his home, allows it the time and space it needs to rest and heal.
In a few weeks, Kaveh accidentally leaves the window open overnight and the bird is gone by the next day. Kaveh is honestly surprised it did not leave sooner, because its wings have long healed, and he would have let it go had it expressed any form of desire to.
(If the Dusk Bird retained its ability to communicate in the human tongue, would it tell Kaveh to let it go, or would they have formed a mutually strong bond that binds it to Kaveh stronger than any bird cage could--)
In their fleeting weeks together, the bird left behind a feather which Kaveh keeps. He commissioned a jeweller to fashion a hair accessory in the image of that feather while the real feather is kept safe in a box with all his prized possessions, as a reminder of the creature he held power over, with the choice to save it and let it live or turn a blind eye to its plight, knowing its eventual fate.
Sentimental a man he is, that he will not deny. But now that he is lauded as the Light of the Kshahrewar, Sumeru's brightest architect for centuries, a reminder of a more humbling time and experience would keep him grounded.