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È una teoria che non regge troppo ma penso sia molto carina...

6.4 v4 — Varka Updated SFX

source #Kuroo
🌟 𝗦𝗰𝗼𝗽𝗿𝗶 𝗛𝗼𝘆𝗼𝗜𝘁𝗮𝗹𝗶𝗮™

Anteprima di Dream Aria cantata da una famosa cantautrice di Snezhnaya per la versione 7.0.

📱 Comrade Sovia

#Meme

🌟 𝗦𝗰𝗼𝗽𝗿𝗶 𝗛𝗼𝘆𝗼𝗜𝘁𝗮𝗹𝗶𝗮™

Ayo cos'è sto scudo...

via Seele

🌟 𝗦𝗰𝗼𝗽𝗿𝗶 𝗛𝗼𝘆𝗼𝗜𝘁𝗮𝗹𝗶𝗮™

Days later, a knight draped in a tattered cloak appeared before the gates of the fortress.
Wielding his heavy, fearsome sword, he danced with his foes as if guided by the hand of a god.
An old man recognized his techniques as those once used by the knight who called himself "Andrius."
"It's Andrius! Andrius has returned!"
Amid the crowd's roaring cheers, Ravenwood closed his eyes...
Charge! For freedom, and chivalry indomitable!

🌟 𝗦𝗰𝗼𝗽𝗿𝗶 𝗛𝗼𝘆𝗼𝗜𝘁𝗮𝗹𝗶𝗮™

Storia della signature di Varka

Tales praising knights' martial feats have been passed down since ancient times in the land of poetry and wine.
Amongst these resplendent verses, stories of the "wolf" are always the most beloved.
After all, compared to the stately "lion," the free-roaming wolf better suits a poet's heart.

Such tales often begin like this:
A wandering knight arrives from the northern lands, traveling with a companion named Andrius, and together they visit a city freshly freed.
The untamed wolf hunts alongside the knight. They slay the beasts that plague the countryside, and drive back the great serpent that threatens the coast.
In time, the homesick lone wolf leaves its spirit behind in the emerald wilds, and the knight, too, departs quietly, tracing the steps of his companion.
In the end, none ever learned the ranger-knight's name. And yet, his deeds were never lost to history.

Romantic poets, ever eager to read meaning into legend, would have it that the nameless knight always strode onto the battlefield after drinking deep of the snowlands' searing spirits.
Yet few know that the knight had come to bear witness to the wolf's fate, and that his homeland was never that merciless land of driving snow.
Before he ever became the heart of a tale, the knight lived as he pleased, utterly devoid of a hero's airs.
Aside from the Grand Master, who never gave up trying to recruit him, the tavern's guests saw him as nothing more than an ordinary drinker.

The sole exception was a boy named Ravenwood, the son of the city's blacksmith.
During the few short years the nameless knight remained in Mondstadt, the boy almost made himself his sidekick.
They met when the knight first arrived in the city and commissioned the boy's father to forge him a sword.
As payment, he offered a handful of coins, each stamped with a mark no one recognized.
The blacksmith, who had once forged blades exclusively for the nobles, chose to simply gift the knight that heavy slab of iron.
"In the new Mondstadt, everyone should take up arms to defend our freedom."

From then on, the boy followed the nameless knight wherever he went, most often standing in silence as he watched the knight practice his sword.
At times, when exhaustion set in, the knight would fall to rambling as the sun set, telling stories of a foreign land long forgotten.
It was a place where flowers never withered, where rivers ran with mead, and along their banks once stood a warrior kingdom that had since vanished from the world.
There, warriors who aforetime sang of devotion and honor bent the knee before power and gold, willingly offering their blades to a greedy tyrant.
Thus, the law was abolished, and high virtue crumbled into ruin, until those who had enslaved others were made slaves themselves.
The night wind stirred the nameless knight's tattered cloak, and his finely wrought armor with intricate patterns gleamed under the moonlight.
Wandering and freedom were to be the final fate of the knight without a homeland, for beneath the moon, there was nothing left for him to defend.

Many years later, the tale of Andrius became a legend, and the chain-breaking hero was nowhere to be found.
It is said that freedom is born of great sacrifice, yet the comfort that follows often leads back to servitude.
The Knights' code still echoed in memory, but former comrades had already broken their oaths, seeking refuge once again in the embrace of the old aristocracy.
In such uncertain times, the blacksmith's son picked up a newly forged longsword and set out into the wilds.
"Once lost, neither freedom nor the courage to die for it can be reclaimed. Cherish your virtue while it still endures."