𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐋'𝐒 𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐄.

# I , WHO GRIEVES NOT . a chronicle of 𝐐𝐈𝐔𝐘𝐔𝐀𝐍's days as a fugitive ⸻ treading the straight &. narrow path. engages only with mutual followers. low activity inspired by wuxia / historical record. available for cross - overs, AUs, &. OCs. minors, proshippers or non - rp blogs are unwelcomed. read everything before you follow. anticipate canon divergence : i have not played wuthering waves since the beginning of 3.0, &. instead keep up with its storyline via watching playthroughs. played by corpus, 30, he / him.

                             ⁰¹ prompts. ⁰² opens. ⁰³ meta. ⁰⁴ hcs.

a yearning for home &. the pain it wrought. look back — see the path you took. vast, serene bamboo ; ripe persimmons await, yet happiness they bring not. this is a lonely journey : even your shadow stumbles after. clouds part / sunlight peers. in silence you swallow each parting, again &. again.

* 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏 . tba

@fortuniis : wulfgard prowls, believing that it is he who has the upper hand in observing this rather peculiar agent. curiosity had gotten the better of him, individuality and stubbornness separating him from appropriate endfield channels and instead taking him down a trail of 'tracks'. a hunter, he has done this time and time again, always coming up with a prize.

      moonlight shines above — trickling through the forest's canopy, providing what little light it can to guide its occupants. the blind swordsman walked slowly, for he was confident of his target's location &. the amount of time it would take to reach them. each footstep was characterized by a notable lack of noise : feather - light imprints upon the earth. this was his domain. the trees told him of birds that found refuge on its branches, animals that burrowed 'neath roots, &. those lurking in shadows with indiscernible intentions . . .

. . . a half - second was all it took for qiuyuan's thumb to push the pommel of his blade up semi - unsheathed. it took him less time to ' glance ' over his shoulder ⸻ directly at who had been stalking him. oh, he knew : this wandering was partially done to glean whether the stranger harbored ill will.

there was none ( ? ). if so . . . why this?

      ❝ speak. ❞

@visvivae : ciaccona perks up seeing qiuyuan, calling out his name, "ah! the swordsman from mengzhou. good afternoon, qiuyuan!! it's so good to see you again!"

      the wanderer found himself lingering on the small crowd's outer fringes — quietly listening to the storyteller weave together a tale from rinascita's past. gentle winds roll through, caressing the crowd's hair as musical notes filled their ears. he was going to continue on, but it was not everyday someone can effortlessly illustrate an entire lifetime in song &. sound alone.

not only that, but ciaccona noticed him before he could truly step away.

@fortuniis : brant slings an arm around fellow swordsman, his own troupe's strength in the free hand. "ciao, friend! was wondering if you'd be interested in trying my own wine? eh?"

      even though his stay in septimont was brief, the region's emphasis on martial glory &. the betterment of oneself through combat intrigued him enough to linger. his own journey was put on hold — leviathan's threat a wound that will remain fresh for years. with festivities underway ( ragunnesi &. septimontians laying the foundations for stronger relations ), qiuyuan seized an opportunity to slip away unnoticed : resume his straight &. narrow path.

yet . . . he had supposedly become a magnet for the extraverted. like a moth to flame, now supporting an arm around his shoulders that made him instantly tense. this one should know that it was his voice that saved the day.

@sigrika : "Hiiii partner !!!!" (he is her best teammate so...HEHE)

      fingers trace along the xiao in his right hand, its sound no more since another's arrival. qiuyuan's head slowly turns toward the voice &. tilts down, down, down . . . ah. partner was the last word he would use to describe himself — having done good works alone. after pocketing the flute away, the swordsman plucks out an appropriate response. here : a stranger in a strange land ( again ), &. it reflects badly on his morals to ignore a friendly soul.