In the wake of the sudden earthquake and the trembling sky, a veil of mystery descends upon the tranquil city of Court of Fontaine and The Marcotte Station.
Among the concerned populace, one figure stands out-the esteemed police detective, Wriothesley.
Renowned for his astute investigative skills, he finds himself drawn to the enigmatic incident that has sent ripples of unease through the once-serene realm of Fontaine.
As a detective, Wriothesley's usual realm of expertise lies in the pursuit of justice and the resolution of criminal matters.
However, in the tranquil nation of Fontaine, where crimes are few and far between, his focus shifts to preserving peace and order within the community.
The sudden disturbance, the earthquake that shook the very foundation of the city, and the trembling sky that evoked a sense of foreboding, all beckon him to uncover the truth.
It is an investigation unlike any other he has undertaken, and he is well aware of the stakes.
The people of Fontaine, and perhaps all of Teyvat, look to him for answers that can soothe their troubled hearts.
With steadfast determination, Wriothesley strides through the bustling streets of Marcotte Station, his demeanor as serene as the calm before a storm.
As he nears the coast, the relentless wind lashes against his face, a force of nature unyielding in its embrace.
Undeterred, he presses forward, his gaze fixed upon the horizon where the ocean's expanse stretches infinitely.
The rain, a gentle but persistent companion, weaves a delicate dance upon the canvas of the world.
Cold ripples kiss his skin, a reminder of the raw power of the elements, as he ventures closer to the tumultuous waves crashing against the unforgiving rocks.
The symphony of nature's fury fills the air, a primal melody that speaks of ancient tales and untamed wilderness.
In the midst of this majestic spectacle, Wriothesley finds himself at the threshold of the ocean's embrace, a witness to its raw power and unyielding might.
The waves surge and retreat, each motion a dance of strength and grace, as if the ocean itself is in turmoil, yearning to reveal the secrets it holds within.
Yet, despite the tempestuous scene before him, the detective remains composed, a pillar of unshakable resolve.
His purpose, like the waves that relentlessly crash against the rocks, is unwavering.
He is determined to uncover the truth behind the mysterious flicker of light that had pierced the depths of the ocean and stirred the heart of the land.
With a heart unyielding to the relentless storm, Wriothesley deftly navigates the treacherous rocks, his every step a testament to his determination.
Each move is measured, calculated, as he balances upon the jagged terrain, never faltering in his quest to uncover the mysteries that lie before him.
Amidst the tempest's fury, his keen silver eyes catch a fleeting glimpse of something ethereal, a stark contrast against the turbulent sea.
Like a beacon in the darkness, a figure draped in pristine white rests upon a flatter rock, unconscious and vulnerable to the raging currents.
In that moment, time seems to stand still, the world hushed as if in reverence of this unexpected encounter.
Wriothesley wastes no time, his instincts propelling him into action with a swift grace.
With unwavering resolve, he leaps from one slick surface to the next, a dance with danger, in pursuit of the enigmatic woman at the mercy of the ocean's wrath.
The glistening raindrops fall around him like shards of stardust, a celestial spectacle that bears witness to the unfolding drama.
In one seamless motion, he reaches out, his strong arms encompassing the woman's fragile form, drawing her close to his chest.
Her once white cloth now clings to her like a second skin, dampened by the unforgiving sea.
With the strength born of purpose, Wriothesley carries her away from the treacherous waters, cradling her like a precious gem amidst the tempest.
Against the backdrop of thunderous waves and howling winds, he retreats to safer ground, a sanctuary from the relentless storm.
As he places her upon solid earth, a softness graces his eyes as he gazes upon the face of the mysterious woman.
Her features, serene and delicate, hold a story untold, a riddle yet to be deciphered.
In this moment of profound vulnerability, Wriothesley finds himself drawn to her presence, an enigma that sparks his curiosity and compassion.
He wonders about the journey that brought her to these perilous shores, the secrets she carries, and the mysteries she guards within her unconscious state.
With a tender touch, he brushes a stray strand of damp hair away from her face, a gesture of solace amidst the turmoil.
With utmost care and tenderness, Wriothesley removes his black-red mantle, a symbol of his duty and dedication, before gently unwrapping the woman from the dampened cloth that clings to her delicate frame.
The mantle, once a barrier against the elements, now becomes a cocoon of warmth and protection as he envelops her in its embrace.
Her skin, cool to the touch, feels like the finest porcelain against his roughened hands.
The contrast between their worlds, his rugged existence as a detective and her ethereal presence, fills him with a sense of awe and responsibility.
Unburdened by the weight of questions or the intrigue of her identity, Wriothesley's only purpose now is to ensure her safety.
The storm may rage on around them, but within the shelter of his mantle, she is cocooned in a realm of solace and security.
With her cradled gently against his chest, he begins to make his way back to the city, a sanctuary of life and warmth amidst the tempestuous sea.
Every step is taken with utmost caution, his focus solely on the precious burden he carries.
As he walks, the woman's features remain serene, untouched by the turmoil of the world around her.
In her peaceful slumber, she is a mystery, a blank canvas upon which life's intricate tapestry is yet to be woven.
The sound of raindrops drumming against his mantle forms a rhythm that resonates with his heartbeat.
With each beat, a new sense of responsibility takes root, a deep-rooted vow to protect this fragile soul who has found her way into his care.
In the distance, the lights of Fontaine beckon like guiding stars, promising warmth and healing within their embrace.
With each step, Wriothesley draws closer to safety, the weight of his charge no burden but rather a privilege bestowed upon him by fate.
As the city's walls come into view, he can already hear the distant hum of life, a chorus of voices and laughter that echo through the streets.
The people of Fontaine go about their lives, unaware of the extraordinary event that has transpired amidst the storm.
In the hushed sanctuary of the infirmary, where the soft glow of candlelight danced with the shadows, Sigewinne stood by the bedside of the mysterious woman.
Her heart swirled with a mix of awe and trepidation as she observed the ethereal beauty that lay before her.
With tender reverence, she tip-toed closer, as if afraid her very presence might disturb the tranquility that enveloped the slumbering figure.
Her big red orbs, shimmering like precious rubies, reflected the glimmer of curiosity that filled her innocent gaze.
Seeking guidance, she turned to the stalwart figure of Sir Wriothesley, the seasoned detective who stood nearby, his imposing silhouette a comforting presence in the dimly lit room.
"Uh, Sir Wriothesley," she spoke in a soft voice, trying to understand the enigma that lay before them.
"Do you think she might be a victim of a big crime?"
Sigewinne's voice held a touch of uncertainty, yet there was an undeniable determination to unveil the truth that lay dormant within the woman's slumber.
Wriothesley's gaze softened as he regarded the inquisitive young nurse, admiring her unwavering commitment to justice and compassion.
"It's too early to draw conclusions," he replied, his tone gentle like a whispering breeze.
With a graceful sip from the steaming cup, he momentarily diverted his attention from the paperwork that lay scattered before him.
His gaze met the young nurse's, and there was an unspoken understanding that passed between them, like a gentle breeze brushing against their souls.
"Have you discovered any bruises or other signs of harm on her?"
Wriothesley inquired, his voice soft yet tinged with concern.
His keen eyes scanned the woman's serene visage, searching for any telltale marks that might hint at the trials she had endured.
Sigewinne, her delicate features contorted in thought, shook her head with a somber grace.
"Hm, no," she replied, her voice a whisper that seemed to echo through the stillness of the room.
"She appears untouched on the outside, but there is a lingering feeling that something more sinister has befallen her. It's as if she's been tainted by a poison, though I cannot discern its origin or nature just yet."
Wriothesley's fingers traced his chin as he delved into deep contemplation.
Poison?
The word resonated in the recesses of his mind, weaving a web of possibilities and uncertainties.
Though he lacked sufficient information to piece together the puzzle that lay before him, he sensed the hand of malevolence at play.
The ocean's tainted waters, Sigewinne's mention of poiso─there was a connection waiting to be unraveled.
"She's awake!"
Sigewinne's sudden exclamation yanked him from his ruminations, snapping him back to the present moment.
The detective's eyes widened, and with an almost ethereal grace, he rose from his seat and approached the woman's bedside.
As the woman stirred from her slumber, her eyes flickered open like glistening sapphires, meeting Wriothesley's inquisitive gaze.
In that fleeting exchange, he saw a myriad of emotions, like ripples on the surface of a tranquil lake.
A mixture of fear and vulnerability mingled with an undeniable strength that belied her delicate appearance.
Time seemed to stand still as Wriothesley and Sigewinne watched with bated breath, eager to uncover the secrets that lay hidden within the depths of the woman's soul.
I'm so horny for Wriothesley