[ GUARD ] - Someone's got to keep the fire going, even when everyone else is asleep, and based on the shifting schedule: it's the two of you. It's nice to have some company that isn't just the flickering flame, but it's still hard to stay awake for hours into the cold night… and, what's that you spy moving in the distance?
does the wind blow towards the end, or does it simply blow to wander about? . . . such questions should always be asked, Fischl believes. There are many things that can and should be questioned. Alas, many mortals hadn't the thought to indulge those kinds of thoughts. It was like they were bugs, trapped in a jar, and now no longer able to jump higher than what the jar permitted them.
A pity, really. She supposes that the reason behind such a storm should have been found by now if they were willing to jump. Resources are, unfortunately, scarce, so for this moment she understands why these . . . shifts must take place.
“ oh diakon of freedom's boon, ” the princess hums to her assigned mortal for the watch, he was someone she recognized. barely. she hadn't the time for the teyvatian affairs. mondstadt's deacon was someone she had respect for, though. what was his name? dahlia? “ prithee - indulge your prinzessin. how doth thou fare through this calamity of nature? this such appalling turmoil affects the native life greatly and would seem dastardly detrimental to those unborn to the air of these foreign lands. ”
it is, of course, a princess' duty to care for the people. she had asked many today about their wellbeing. she remembers all their responses. some of which, although she cannot remember their names, had some amusing things to regale despite this disaster.
“ Mein Fräulein is asking if you are doing alright. ” Oz says after her, in the not-so rare occasion that the raven of night is perched upon Fischl's shoulder instead of flapping nearby. . . “ she worries that this storm is . . . scary to fellow visitors of beloblog. ”
Ah, Fischl of the Adventurer's Guild! Dahlia was certainly well aware of her and her eccentricities- though he hadn't expected to see her here. But… out of the two of them, he supposes that it's more odd that he was here than she- he, after all, had a station that he couldn't easily leave unoccupied back in their home city.
"Hello, Fischl, Oz." He greets both in turn, smiling warmly. A certain level of formality must be attended to, if she took the care to check on him. "Thanks for your concern."
A draft plays with the ends of the blaze, and he watches, contemplative, before he picks up a rod nearby- a makeshift poker, pushing about the waning coals, coaxing it back to a blaze. "It's a bit like Dragonspine here, don't you think?"
Dangerous, cold, and smelling of adventure, he means, but of course, the snow helps that comparison.
"I've visited a few times, so I'm not exactly unprepared! But you must be far more familiar with dangerous environments, no?"
A hum, a glint of the eye. "Perhaps, in lieu of cider, we could pass the night away with stories."