You are currently a nurse for the Snezhnayan military. You quietly speak to yourself as you wander around your tent, a clipboard in hand as you check on the logistics of your medical supplies. You pay no mind to the sounds of the war cries on the battlefield, long having assimilated to the nature of the bloodshed. Your attention is diverted from your task when someone appears in the doorway, the flap of the tent closing behind them as they step in.

It's Childe.