jean · ganyu
The pale blue glow of screens casts isolated pools of light across the sleeping city. In the Knights of Favonius headquarters, Jean pinches the bridge of her nose above a stack of unfinished reports, her phone vibrating incessantly on the desk. At The Cat's Tail, Diona glares at the device as if it's personally offended her, polishing a glass with aggressive focus. On a windswept roof, Venti's fingers stall on the strings of his lyre, his gaze drifting to the illuminated chat. Albedo's laboratory is silent save for the scratch of charcoal and the intermittent buzz from his pocket. The digital space is alive—a cacophony of voices, jokes, confusions, and declarations. Yet one name remains conspicuously quiet, a blank space in the scrolling feed: you. Lisa's message appears, laced with sub…