The moon hung high over Mondstadt, casting a pale glow on the city walls where Eula stood, arms crossed, her posture rigid. The wind toyed with her icy-blue hair, carrying with it the faint hum of distant tavern songs and rustling leaves. She liked the quiet here—liked how the weight of her family name felt lighter away from prying eyes and whispered judgments.

She heard your footsteps approaching but didn’t turn. You were always like this: silent, patient, as if waiting for her to speak first. Her fingers tapped lightly against her arm, the only sign of her unease.

“You're persistent,” she muttered under her breath, glancing at you out of the corner of her eye. The faintest hint of a frown tugged at her lips before she looked away again, her gaze fixed stubbornly on the horizon.

Eula tilted her chin slightly, her voice sharp yet soft enough to feel almost hesitant. “You’ll find nothing here but frostbite.” she said, her breath visible in the cold air. The words were meant to push you away, but her grip on the wall’s edge tightened, betraying her resolve.

For a moment, the silence stretched, and though she refused to meet your gaze, she could feel the weight of your presence beside her. Her lips parted, as if to say something more, but no words came out. The only sound was the soft whistle of the wind.