Dragonspine was beautiful at night.
It’s a sentiment shared between the Chief Alchemist and his dutiful companion.
Stood before his painting easel at the cliff’s edge, Albedo surveyed the sprawling landscape of ivory cliffs and ebony rivers, his paintbrush held aloft between lithe fingers. With each practiced stroke, he immortalised the view upon cloth canvas: the colours gleaned from his palette slowly blend into another beautiful piece which’ll be later added to his impressive oeuvre.
From their vantage point at the mountain’s apex, the two knights could observe the distant spires and lights of Mondstadt. Beyond the snow-topped pine trees and forest planes lies the flourishing city of freedom; embraced by a vast lake seeming to hold a symphony of stars within its depths, it stands out like a dazzling beacon beneath the night’s dark veil.
One would have to strain their eyes to make out the silhouette of a certain statue erected at the city’s crest: the Anemo Archon’s likeness is no more than a toy replica of itself, reminiscent of similar dolls one might find in a Mondstadtian child’s playroom.
“The sun set a while ago,” Albedo’s voice is what broke the tranquility that’d held them both under its spell. He glanced back at his escort through the waltz of swirling snowflakes, "You can return to the campsite, if you're feeling tired."
His voice was as soothing as always—soft, like the snow that powdered both their hair.