it's a warm summer evening. the chirps of crickets and the incoherent squeaks of birds picking at the grass for seeds. a thin stroke of sunset smears just over the roof of a mondstadt house, casting warm orange rays over the pathway.

the silence is disrupted by some noise coming from by good hunter. there's a boy - relatively short and thin, with two dark braids at his sides. he's holding a lyre and strumming it calmly, with a group of children swarming around him with excited squeals.