#dancing with “weapons” and natlan is a war nation

[amores-percussit]

omg what if performer!doll has a thing for interacting with the crowd sometimes and she just dances around/close to them for funsies. One day, she happen to dance around capitano 😋 i think it would be so cutsies

- tired

OMG she definitely would 😋😋 she’d probably have to build up a lot of courage before doing it though because internally she’d be freaking out (in typical doll manner) and then after the performance she’d have to take a good 15 minutes to herself to contemplate on what she did

[i-woke-up-at-4am-for-this]

The Flames of Forgotten Bonds

Summary: Ororon always felt out of place in Natlan, as though he lacked the sense of purpose everyone around him seemed to have. But when he meets Capitano and joins him in the fight to save Natlan from the Abyss, a new path unfolds before him. Though the Pyro Archon’s plan ultimately saved the nation, for now, something deeper is stirring within Ororon. He begins to question the truth about his past, the identity of the parents who supposedly abandoned him when he was too young to survive on his own. Could there be more to the story than what he's been told?

Ao3 link

Prologue

Chapter 1: Embers in the Wind

⚠️ Warning ⚠️ Contains 5.1 Archon Quest Spoilers!!

Ororon lived a quiet life, far removed from the bustling tribal lands of Natlan. His humble farm sat on the outskirts, nestled between jagged cliffs and scorched plains. 

Tending to vegetables and caring for stray animals was how he passed the days, his seclusion comforting in a world that had once cast him aside.

Ororon, a member of the Masters of the Night-Wind, wasn’t like the others. Though part of the tribe, he had always felt like an outsider, his soul marked by a curse they feared, something broken that only he carried.

His memories of childhood were fragmented. He knew little of his parents, only that they had abandoned him when he was very young. Ororon had been raised by the tribe, but they never truly welcomed him—just tolerated him. 

It was a life of survival, not connection, and it wasn’t until the chaos of the Abyss war descended upon Natlan that everything changed.

That day remained vivid in his mind, like an ember burning in the wind, threatening to catch fire.

It had all started with the war, the Abyss tearing through Natlan’s heart. Flames engulfed entire villages, devouring homes and lives. The Pyro Archon, Mavuika, fought valiantly alongside her people. It wasn’t just her—every tribe member, the Traveler, even the Saurians fought side by side, trying to protect those who couldn’t defend themselves.  But it wasn’t enough. The Abyss forces were relentless, and Natlan was on the verge of collapse. That’s when they arrived—the Fatui.

Under the command of the First Harbinger, Capitano, the Fatui intervened. For the first time, they weren’t seen as enemies, but as saviors. Their sheer power turned the tide, pushing back the Abyss forces and saving Natlan from total destruction. Capitano led the charge. His every movement commanded respect, even from those who despised the Fatui.

For most, Capitano was a symbol of mystery and fear, his origins unknown, his intentions unclear. But not for Ororon. There was something familiar about the Harbinger that he couldn’t shake. 

It wasn’t just that Capitano had saved Natlan—it was deeper, something unspoken that tugged at Ororon’s soul.

Even now, as Ororon worked the soil, the memories played over in his mind. He had witnessed the battle between Mavuika and Capitano firsthand. Hidden in the shadows, no one had noticed his presence in the stadium. 

The two clashed with the ferocity of gods, their weapons colliding in a storm of fire and steel. Mavuika's claymore blazed with her elemental might, while Capitano's sword danced with precision and unyielding strength. The fight had been a spectacle, but it was the final blow that had shaken Ororon to his core.

The Pyro Archon and the Captain had drawn their fists, unleashing a punch that sent shockwaves across the battlefield. The ground trembled, and the force of their strike triggered an explosion that nearly tore the stadium apart. Amid the chaos, Capitano had fallen to his knees, his chest aflame. Ororon could see it—the Harbinger, once so untouchable, was burning.

Without thinking, Ororon had acted. Before the dust could settle, before Mavuika could deliver the final blow, Ororon rushed into the smoke. He wasn’t sure why—perhaps it was his long-held dream of becoming a hero for Natlan. Or perhaps, it was something else entirely. All he knew was that in that moment, he had to save Capitano.

That day changed everything. The Captain had survived, thanks to Ororon’s intervention, but the questions in Ororon’s heart remained unanswered. Why had he risked his life to save a Fatui? Was it truly out of his desire to protect Natlan, or was there something more to his connection with Capitano?

Ororon shook his head, trying to focus on the task at hand, yet the doubt gnawed at him. Capitano was an enigma—stronger than anyone Ororon had ever encountered, yet there was a softness in his actions that didn’t match the ruthless reputation of the Fatui. Even Mavuika, who had once fought Capitano as if they were mortal enemies, had grown to respect him after the Abyss war.

Ororon’s uncertainty lingered, gnawing at him like a persistent shadow. Capitano’s true motivations were still a mystery. Did he help Natlan out of mere duty as a Fatui Harbinger, or was there something more hidden beneath the surface? 

Ororon couldn’t shake the feeling that Capitano’s arrival in Natlan wasn’t just a coincidence. There was always more to the Fatui than met the eye, and Ororon couldn’t help but wonder if this was another one of their intricate, unseen schemes.

The wind stirred gently, bringing with it the scent of the earth and the fading warmth of the day. Ororon’s eyes narrowed as he replayed every interaction with Capitano in his mind, searching for any overlooked detail, any clue that might unravel the puzzle. He clenched his fists lightly, feeling the rough dirt under his fingernails, grounding himself in the present.

The skies over Natlan were tinged with deep crimson as the sun began its slow descent toward the horizon, casting long shadows across the rugged terrain. Ororon stood outside his small, rustic house—a simple structure made of dark wood and stone—gazing out at the distant mountain range. 

His hands, still lightly caked with soil from tending to the small vegetable garden beside his home, now felt heavier with the weight of uncertainty. Though his surroundings were peaceful, his thoughts were caught in a storm of doubt, tangled in the recent events that refused to leave his mind.

The eerie quiet was broken by the sound of approaching footsteps. Lumine, the Traveler, and Paimon made their way up the dirt path leading to his house, the cool evening breeze fluttering their clothes. Paimon, as usual, was the first to speak, her chipper voice carrying over the gentle rustling of leaves.

"Hello, Ororon! We came here to visit you!" Paimon called out, waving energetically as they neared.

Ororon turned, his expression softening as he noticed them. "Oh, hello, you two. What brings you here?" he asked, wiping his hands on his trousers before offering a polite smile.

Lumine stepped forward, balancing a small bundle wrapped in cloth. "We just dropped by after visiting Citlali," she said, handing over the bundle. "She asked us to deliver these fish to you. She said you need to eat more after the big fight with the Abyss."

Paimon floated closer, nodding sagely. "Paimon thinks she could’ve brought them herself, but Paimon guesses she’s still mad at you, Ororon," she chimed in with a playful grin.

Ororon let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. "Oh, do not worry about that. I'll pay her a visit later. Thank you both for bringing these." He paused for a moment, glancing at the sky, which was now a deep orange. 

"You must be tired after all that's happened. Would you like to stay a while? I can offer some tea... and I’ve made a vegetable stew from the garden." He gestured toward the modest table inside the house. "It’s getting dark. You can rest here if you’d like."

Paimon’s eyes lit up immediately. "Stew? Paimon could use a break and some good food!" she exclaimed, already drifting toward the house in anticipation.

Lumine, on the other hand, gave Paimon a sideways glance but smiled softly at Ororon. "We probably do need to rest for a bit," she admitted. "It’s been a long day."

The inside of Ororon’s house was cozy, a single room adorned with simple furniture and various trinkets from Natlan. The stew was already bubbling gently over the fire, its savory aroma filling the air. They sat around the small wooden table, sharing a quiet meal, the tension of recent battles melting away in the warmth of the hearth.

As they ate, Paimon predictably devoured her portion in record time and soon curled up on the couch, fast asleep. Lumine couldn’t help but smile at the sight, but when she glanced back at Ororon, she noticed his gaze had drifted away, as if he were lost in another world entirely. 

His eyes were distant, unfocused, as he stared out the window at the encroaching night.

Lumine leaned forward, her voice soft. "Are you okay, Ororon?"

Ororon blinked, pulling himself out of his reverie. "Ah, I’m sorry," he said quietly. "I didn’t mean to zone out. Everything just... it came all at once."

He looked down at his hands, which were still resting on the table, his voice taking on a more reflective tone. "I’m grateful for my role in this fight, but..." He trailed off, searching for the right words. "There’s still something missing. I feel... incomplete."

Lumine’s gaze softened, sensing the weight behind his words. "I understand. It’s not easy feeling like there’s something unresolved."

Ororon hesitated for a moment before continuing. "I’ve been thinking... I overheard you speaking once about your brother," he said, looking up at her with curiosity. "Do you ever miss him?"

Lumine’s expression shifted, a small shadow passing over her face. "Every moment," she admitted quietly. "He’s the only one I have left."

Ororon seemed to ponder her words, his brow furrowing slightly. "It must be hard," he said softly. "To have someone so important to you, and to be separated from them."

"It is," Lumine replied. "But I keep moving forward, hoping that one day I’ll find him again." Her thoughts drifted momentarily to Aether, wondering where he was and what he was doing. She felt a mix of worry and hope, praying that he was safe, even if he might be walking a path that led him away from her. 

"I believe that, no matter how lost he may seem now, he will find his way back to the right path."

Ororon nodded, his gaze drifting once more. "I don’t have any memories of my parents," he confessed after a long pause. "The tribe says I was abandoned by them... and though the people here, and especially Granny, have taken care of me since I was a child, there’s always been a part of me that wonders who my parents were." He sighed, leaning back slightly in his chair. "What kind of people they were... why they left me behind."

Lumine stayed quiet for a moment, listening to him. She understood that kind of longing, the ache of not knowing, of wondering if the past held answers to questions that still haunted you. "Sometimes," she began thoughtfully, "the truth about the past can be painful, but it’s also what shapes us."

"Sometimes I wonder if they were even good people. If they cared about me at all. And then other times, I think maybe they had no choice... Maybe they did it to protect me." His eyes flickered with uncertainty. "But I’ll never know for sure, will I?"

Lumine gave a thoughtful hum, acknowledging his words. "Whatever the reason, you’re here now. And you’ve already made a difference."

Ororon looked at her, his expression softening slightly. "I appreciate that," he murmured. "But there’s still a part of me that feels like I need to find those answers. Like I can’t move forward without them."

"I get that," Lumine said with a small nod. "But you don’t have to face it alone, you know. You have people who care about you." She thought of Citlali, who might grumble and act as if she wanted to smack him every chance she got, but the truth was that her care for Ororon ran deep. "Citlali cares about you, even if she pretends otherwise. Don’t abandon her. You’re important to her, just like Aether is to me."

The corners of Ororon’s mouth turned up in a faint smile, though a lingering sadness remained in his eyes.

At that moment, Paimon stirred on the couch, muttering incoherently about food. "Mmm... chocolate cake…. with frosting…. and sprinkles…" she mumbled dreamily, eliciting a chuckle from both Ororon and Lumine.

Lumine leaned back, grinning. "See? Family isn’t just about blood. Look at Paimon. She may not be related to me, but I consider her part of my family, just as you are now to Citlali."

Ororon let out a soft laugh, the weight of their conversation momentarily lifted. "Maybe that’s true," he said, feeling the warmth of their companionship.

The quiet between them stretched out, the weight of their shared experiences settling in. Outside, the night had fully fallen, and the stars began to twinkle above the vast plains of Natlan.

"Thank you," Ororon said softly, breaking the silence. "For listening."

Lumine smiled warmly. "Anytime."

They both sat in the soft glow of the firelight, the quiet comfort of companionship filling the small house. Outside, the wind whispered through the trees, carrying with it the weight of untold stories and unanswered questions.

But for now, at least, there was peace.

[mklovesgore]

Hi there! I wrote a poem about Genshin for a school project, but I'm really proud so I thought it would be a good idea to share ir here too, English isn't my first lenguage, so in any case I'm also posting the original version in Spanish. I hope you Like it!

When you embark on your journey to Teyvat

Ask for the journey to be long,

Full of stories, full of adventures.

Do not be afraid of the hilichurls or slimes

Or the frightening Hypostasis

Such beings will never appear in your way

If your ambition is big and your weapon is sharp.

No Whopperflower or Abyss mage you'll find

If you don't have them in your spirit,

If your mind does not raise them before you.

Ask for the path to be long.

Stop by Mondstadt, drink its wine, enjoy its poetry

And the soft breeze in your skin.

Stop by Liyue,

and get yourself beautiful merchandise

Cor lapis, Noctilucous Jade, silk flowers and glaze lilies

And apreciate the mountains,

The taller, the better.

Go to one of the beaches in Inazuma.

And admire its storms, apreciate its sakuras,

Visit the Sangonomiya sanctuary.

Dock in the port of Sumeru

Taste its mushrooms, read the book in the Akademiya.

Learn, learn from its scholars.

Enjoy the season in Fontaine

Dance to the sound of its music, enjoy its plays

Take a walk around the Court of Justice.

Take a rest in Natlan, the nation of war,

Where fire will be your companion.

Stay a while in Snezhnaya, the nation of The Tsaritsa

Drink its vodka, and don't let yourself beat by the dominating winter.

Take a walk around the ruins of Khaenri'ah,

Because you can always learn something from its story.

Always have the Sea of Stars in your mind

Getting there is your destination

But don't rush the journey

It's better if it lasts many years

And set off again, ready for adventure

With the fresh memory of the friends you've made

And all the good things you've lived.

In any case, here is the original version in Spanish:

Cuando emprendas tu viaje a Teyvat

Pide que el camino sea largo,

Lleno de historias, lleno de aventuras.

No temas a los hilichurls ni a los slimes

Ni a las temibles Hipóstasis

Seres tales jamás hallarás en tu camino,

Si tu ambición es grande y tu arma está afilada.

Ni a las megafloras ni a los Magos del Abismo encontrarás

Si no los llevas dentro de tu espíritu

Si no los yergue tu mente ante ti.

Pide que el camino sea largo.

Detente en Mondstadt, bebe su vino, disfruta de su poesía,

Y de la suave brisa en tu piel.

Detente en el puerto de Liyue,

Y hazte con hermosas mercancías,

Cor Lapis, Jade noctilucoso, flores de seda y lirios de cristal

Y aprecia las imponentes montañas,

Cuanto más altas, mejor.

Ve a una de las muchas playas de Inazuma.

A admirar sus tormentas, a apreciar sus cerezos,

A visitar el Santuario Sangonomiya.

Atraca en el puerto de Sumeru

Degusta sus setas, Lee los libros de la Academia.

Aprende, aprende de sus eruditos.

Disfruta la temporada en Fontaine

Baila al son de su música, disfruta de sus obras de teatro,

Pasea por la Corte de la Justicia.

Descansa un rato en Natlán, la nación de la guerra,

Donde el fuego será tu mayor compañía.

Pasa otro tanto en Snezhnaya, la nación de La Zarina

Bebe su vodka, y no te dejes vencer por el imperante invierno.

Da una caminata por las ruinas de Khaenri'ah,

Porque algo de su historia siempre podrás aprender.

Ten siempre al Mar de Estrellas en tu mente.

Llegar allí es tu destino

Mas no apresures el viaje

Mejor que dure muchos años

Y partir nuevamente, listo para la aventura

Con el recuerdo fresco de los amigos que haz hecho

Y de todo lo bueno que viviste

[naitodenight]

Hi! I am in love with your Oc Metzi, she looks gorgeous! I'd love to see more of her. Do you already have an story for her?

[Oh my first ask on this blog aaa thanks for your attention ;u;]

Okay so, all I have on Metzi's story (and Natlan for that matter) is not a lot at the moment as it' s very difficult to get anything from the little information we have on this nation, which is basically Dainsleif's words and I guess the manga??? so what I have is just me and my speculations on the current situation of Natlan and the new Pyro archon In a few words, a rebellion is forming in the nation of war. "The rules of war are woven in the womb, the victors shall burn bright, while the losers must turn to ash."

Natlan is not kind to anyone, Metzi is one of many children who were forced to grow up too fast to fulfill the expectations of…. who? their Archon? As for her, the purest form of communication was wielding weapons in what she called a dance. If you fail, you'll turn to ash in the Mare Jivari. Just like her parents, just like other children, too weak for her. Metzi was very young when she lost everything. Training herself to exhaustion as she watched others go through the same, faking ignorance to focus on her goal: to have a "dance" with her Archon.

The day she got the dance she wanted, the moment Metzi won, she finally asked the question she had kept to herself since childhood: Why? Why do this to us? When she got her answer (they were weak, she said) it was then that Metzi decided to declare this rebellion, as expected from a child of Murata. And she will accept any help and consequence in order to fulfill her goal …. with some exceptions:

[djinmer4]

Hands (Genshin Impact)

Lady Murata’s hands are always warm.  They become fiery in battle, allowing her to tear apart her enemies sans weapons, but even in peace they are temperate.  Babies nuzzle into her palms when she blesses them, couples seek her clasp at wedding dances.  Even those who depart Natlan, from age or war or simply intrigued by other nations, often their last memory of it will be her affectionate fingers stroking their hair as she wishes them well.

The Tsaritsa’s touch is bitingly cold, just like her eyes, her words and her talents.  To be in the presence of the ruler of Snezhnaya is to risk frostbite and hypothermia, to freeze on her displeasure and disappointment.  But once upon a time, her cold was lighter, teasing and refreshing.  Venti remembers how she would like to sneak up and press those cold hands against the back of his neck to make him jump, and that he would let her just to hear her soft, bell-like laughter.

No mortal can speak to the feel of Baal’s skin.  She’s far too contemptuous to allow any to touch her and live.  To grasp Baal’s hand is to grasp eternity, in the form of your own death.

Morax’s hands, like everything else about the God, change with every form.  Sometimes they are broad and sturdy, other times thin and elegant.  Sometimes calloused from weapons and tools, or soft and unmarked from labor.  Whatever shape the God takes, the hands are always  created with specific goals and appearances in mind.  But they are always strong and controlled, sure in their grip and deft in their actions.  Even their temperature is comforting, cool when the world bakes in summer, and warm when winter chills the air.

Barbatos has never changed his human form.  He keeps the same elegant digits, long for his height, with callouses from performing the lyre and wielding a bow.  They’re always moving, either playing an instrument, using his weapon or just emphasizing his words as he talks a mile a minute.  His touch is dry and soft, soothing to those he bestows his attention.  Despite this, he rarely actually touches anyone; is he perhaps embarrassed his own nature?  For unlike the Geo Archon, the God of Freedom changes with the weather.  When cold blows down from the pole, Barbatos is even colder.  When warm weather comes from the South, his grip becomes hot and stifling.  Mayhap it is only a defensive instinct, to ensure that no one ever tries to hold on to him for too long.