Rosaria

Rosaria is one of the sisters of Mondstadt's Church of Favonius. Though she is just as much a woman of the cloth as the likes of Barbara and Jilliana, people tend to make a mental distinction between Rosaria and other members of the clergy. While she might dress the part — at least, to a certain extent — her speech and actions do not reflect her office in the slightest. Furthermore, she displays even less reverence towards the gods than the ordinary citizens, and she routinely skips her various church engagements. She comes, goes, and acts in solitude, and if she were ever to make an appearance in the Cathedral, it would be to smoke in the rearmost pew. Such a lone wolf is Rosaria that perhaps she should be considered a clergywoman in name only.

If Rosaria has been lectured once, she has been lectured a thousand times before concerning her unorthodox behavior. For some reason, however, she has never faced any serious consequences for her transgressions. She does not work together with her church colleagues and only rarely shows up to celebratory events in the city. The strange and mysterious Rosaria moves about almost like a wisp of black smoke — blink, and you'll miss her as she disappears into thin air. Her social interactions are never more than superficial, and the rest of the time she keeps herself to herself. However, Sister Victoria would say that the ever good-natured Barbara is one person who has always made the effort to get close to Rosaria. "Please don't smoke in the Cathedral..." "Could you try to attend the ceremony on time next time...?" "And... Hey, come back, I'm still talking to you!" Barbara is forever anxiously chasing after Rosaria, urging her to complete her various daily tasks. Yet even when faced with Barbara, the beloved idol of Mondstadt, Rosaria remains completely unmoved. Surely her heart can't be completely made of stone?

Rosaria's movements are unpredictable. She often leaves without notifying anyone and can be gone for up to several days on end. During these times, none of her church colleagues know where to find her. One of the sisters who took it upon herself to observe Rosaria once groused that "even a stray cat should at least give you notice before running off..." Rosaria uses these disappearances to do work that only she can do in corners unseen by others. An unfamiliar merchant, a suspicious traveler — are these people threats to Mondstadt? She investigates, shadows, and if necessary, interrogates. If they must disappear, then Rosaria shall be the last person they meet. Such dark work, which cannot see the light of day, is to be done by her hand alone. She always sets out after the sun has set, finishing her work in one fell swoop. Sometimes, if she makes it back by the crack of dawn, she gets to usher in the day ahead with a glass of breakfast wine. The people of Mondstadt live in the golden sunlight, but Rosaria dwells under the silver moonlight. It is a cold, piercing light... just like that of the ice she forms with her Cryo abilities. "There are some things that young people need not know," Rosaria thinks. Though, in her eyes, "young people" means all citizens of Mondstadt who live in the light of the sun, regardless of their age.

Like a puff of smoke, the lackadaisical Rosaria is impossible to pin down. Nevertheless, once she takes on a job, she can be relied on to handle it with the utmost professionalism. "Lazy" is the last word that anyone would use to describe her ruthless interrogations of suspicious individuals. She also possesses exceptional strength and knows the weaknesses of the human body like the back of her hand — and has no reservations about using this knowledge to kill. People know her as the lazy, chain-smoking sister, but behind the scenes, she is a formidable purveyor of justice. A strange fate for one who ostensibly basks in the light of the gods. What led her to become a blood-soaked slayer? Why does she stay silent while others praise the gods for their protection? Perhaps it should come as no surprise that Rosaria was not born and bred in Mondstadt. "A city that is fortunate enough to be boring always needs someone to do the dirty work..." Rosaria stubs her cigarette out as she speaks in her characteristically languid manner. "And as far as I'm concerned, the things I deal with are far simpler than living the life of a traditional sister."

Rosaria may not be one to attend prayer meetings, but that does not mean she doesn't have her own theological viewpoints. In her view, freedom is the spiritual pillar of Mondstadt's people, and it is the very thing that caused her to end up here in the first place. Rosaria was born in a remote mountain village, but was taken from her home shortly after birth by the very same bandits who drenched it in blood. Raised by those crooks, she learned how to fight, sometimes thieving, other times doing odd jobs for the crew. She was their servant, but also their tool, a crook, yet still a child. She fought against outsiders and her comrades alike, and growing up was a constant battle for survival against the hunger and cold. Rosaria's youth was just like Mondstadt's sunset — blood-red from horizon to horizon, and so fleeting that night had fallen before she'd had the chance to stop and take in the view. Ultimately, the bandit crew was wiped out by the Knights of Favonius. As their youngest member, Rosaria was judged to have a chance of rehabilitation. Grand Master Varka brought her to Mondstadt. Sincerely hoping that she might someday fit in here, he advised her: "Go to the Cathedral and be cleansed by the light of our archon. You still have the chance to turn your fate around and live a normal life." But Varka had not counted on Rosaria constantly skipping classes and dodging hymnal. She would rather hunt in the wild than settle into a life of dutiful service as a sister. As far as she was concerned, the golden sunlight was not so much cleansing as blinding. For Rosaria had long since come to understand that she was a child of the moonlight, and it was inevitable that she would someday return to the embrace of darkness.

Rosaria, the Church's number one truant, became infamous for her absence very early on. "Miss Rosaria, please, show a little more circumspection in your actions! You are a member of the Church. How is it appropriate that you simply never turn up for hymn practice?" "Please calm down, Sister Ophila. Miss Rosaria, I'm told that you have never attended a single one of your compulsory classes. Is that so?" "Yes." "Mother Maria, please look at this... Rosaria's theological essay is an utter mess!" "Miss Rosaria, if I may ask frankly... do you intend to do any work at all here at the Church?" "No. I've already found other work." Rosaria never showed so much as a hint of anxiety in any of these exchanges. What's more, it was true — she had indeed found other work for herself, and much darker work at that. The unexpected twist was that she would ultimately end up doing this work under the aegis of the Church. Rosaria the novice did not leave the clergy, but instead became Sister Rosaria without much incident. Nevertheless, when she's not on a mission, she does everything she can to avoid attending church activities, instead heading to the taverns to drink or scaling the city walls to view the scenery. And when she simply cannot escape a church engagement, you can be sure that she will be the first to leave. The instant the workday is done, Rosaria vanishes. Whether by bright day or dark night, there is one principle that she will never transgress: no overtime.

A journal with a white cover. The words "Church of Favonius" are inscribed on the cover. The handwriting is beautiful, but the content is the most of the most banal variety imaginable. "Dandelion Wine — now eighty percent off!" "Fisherman's Toast — an incredible flavor at an unbelievable price!" "Crazy discounts on Wheat — ask at the counter and we'll grind it into Flour for you." "Buy three Tomatoes and get one free!" "Fresh Small Lamp Grass! Use it to light up your bathroom! Come on, Sir, have a look!" There is something incongruous about a random assortment of marketplace cries and advertising slogans having been penned by such a graceful and elegant hand. This journal is a relic from Rosaria's novice days. Clearly, she must have skipped class and headed to the rooftops on the merchant street, bathing in the sun, listening to the eclectic cries of the street vendors, and committing them to paper.

Rosaria's Vision came to her on a particularly frigid night. Things were getting desperate for the bandit gang — people were starving and the food supplies were dwindling. Never able to eat her fill, Rosaria was driven by hunger to flee into the freezing wind rather than continue another second with the hard labor she was forced to endure. One of the elders of the gang pursued her and brought her back. He was the very person who had taken her from the village of her birth, and the one who had taught her how to kill. "Fleeing makes you a traitor, and traitors can only earn their freedom through victory in combat." The old bandit tossed Rosaria an old dagger. "Well, come on then! Kill me, and you can leave this place. I'm long in the tooth now, while you've got youth on your side. You can do this, can't ya?" No one thought that she would be able to kill him — and yet, the old lion would indeed fall by the newborn cub's claws. Thus did the bandits lose an old member and welcome a new one that very night. The bandits were reluctant to accept Rosaria at first since she had slain one of their own, but they quickly had a change of heart after seeing the Vision in her hand. Surely, a Vision wielder had to be far stronger than some old coot who was about to kick the bucket right? And she ate less, to boot... They could save some food this way. Meanwhile, a question crept into Rosaria's frozen heart: Did he let me replace him on purpose? ...Could a false father have harbored genuine affection for a child he stole so arbitrarily?

Listen disciple, if you've got a problem you can't handle, then I'm the one for the job. But if you're looking for prayer, you'd better find some other Sister ...Huh? You're not a disciple?

Don't we have a job to do?

Everything is negotiable, except overtime.

Work hard and live each day to the fullest. That is what life in Mondstadt is all about, isn't it?

This will slow things down.

...What a nuisance.

We should keep moving, but watch your step in the snow.

Blessings from the Anemo Archon Barsibato? Wait... no, it's Bartobas...?

*yawn* Good morning... I've missed morning mass, haven't I? Ugh, it starts too early anyway.

I'd say I sleep even better in the afternoon sun. You should try it sometime.

Good evening. Don't expect to see me at prayer tonight... And don't ask why.

Go ahead, take a break. I'll handle things here.

Me? I'm just another ordinary person. Church, work... I just do what I have to do.

Each of the Sisters is worse than the next. If it's not about prayer, then it's about choir or some other thing I'm supposed to participate in... I'm trying to stay out of sight, so don't you dare tell them you saw me here.

Perhaps a god has the power to protect everyone if they would choose to do so, but that would never happen. Otherwise, people's suffering couldn't ever be taken seriously.

Pray. Not for the gods, nor the betterment of others... but for yourself.

Don't overdo it. Let me take care of the dirty work.

A Vision... Could be proof of strength, or a medal for having survived... who knows? There're two sides to every coin. I won't limit my Vision with ceremonies and definitions. It witnesses me, and I witness it, that's all.

You don't always know why good things happen, or why we should be happy about them. Heh... But if you ever face a problem too big to handle, don't give up hope. You never know, someone may be there to help, even if you can't see them.

I take no interest in plant life and the sort, but the dandelion is an exception. How such a simple flower could turn into such a delectable wine is beyond me. A glass of dandelion wine after work is even better than sleeping in on Sunday.

Isn't it obvious? There's more than meets the eye to that rich tycoon. He's confident, yet discreet... and even a little bit dangerous.

Wine has its uses... like revealing someone's true colors, for example. Smooth talk is Kaeya's veil, but being me, I can see right through it. Hah, you should see him when he's drunk.

There's something extremely interesting about this bard... I can't quite put my finger on it. There's something that makes him different from the others in Mondstadt.

Barbara is like a thorn in my side, always nagging me about mass and choir practice. I wouldn't be surprised if Sister Victoria specifically asked her to keep an eye on me.

She's not only competent in her own work but also somehow manages to clear up various matters for others... Huh. Now that's a woman who deserves admiration.

He's like an oil painting you find hanging on the wall in some ancient hall, profound and mysterious... hard to see through. But what can I say, I find people with stories... interesting.

Although I deplore those who play truant on a job, I respect her punctuality when it comes to closing up for the day.

Trouble, and lots of it. Although, it is sort of a cute kind of trouble...

I'm sure Varka means well, but his long-winded conversations get real old real quick. Although, he does really care for those around him, doesn't he?

Father? I'm not familiar with the word. You could say that I don't have one — could also say I have many, too. What's it to you?

Let's forgo the formalities. I'm here to finish a job. Just leave the dirty work to me.

What's weird about a Sister without reverence for the gods? There are hunters who don't eat pork, and fisherman who don't eat fish, aren't there? Just because you do something doesn't mean you love to do it. That's how every job goes.

This year's Dandelion Wine is sinfully good. Care for a glass?

Mondstadt is a beast of light, both old and young. Old in the sense that it constantly requires someone's protection, yet too young to ever survive on its own. That's why there's people like me. I care for Mondstadt just as the other Sisters care for the believers, we are all guiding that which we love onward on the path towards freedom. Huh? Why do I call it a beast of light? Because people like myself can only be found in the dark...

I sometimes feel that my former selves from years past still exist alongside me, urging me on. I'm sure you know the feeling, too. Even if you decide to venture down a new path, don't just abandon the former you. For that is the foundation upon which you now take footing. Do not fear your past, and do not be scared to come to grips with it.

There are some troubles that only a stiff drink can take away. That being said, I never get drunk.

Ugh, definitely skipping next month's choir concert, but I bet Sister Victoria will be personally taking roll... What a nuisance.

Have you ever tried Beef Bourguignon? Big chunks of meat with the smooth taste of alcohol... Mmm, it's delectable.

You mean I'm supposed to dip this hash brown in jam? Ugh, this is sacrilege!

Today's your birthday, so if you have any dirty work that needs taking care of, I can give you a hand... Just don't tell anybody, got it?

Hmm, just what I needed.

You have a job for me? I've got time.

Good. Getting stronger means finishing jobs quicker.

I'm no stranger to spilling blood, but never have I possessed such power before. For such blessings, I give you thanks.

Hyah!

Judgment!

You can't run!

Punishment!

Shiver!

Lights out...

...Hm, there are a few interesting trinkets here.

I suppose it wasn't too much trouble.

That felt... pretty good.

Hmph. Things are getting interesting...

Looks like overtime today.

So you know your stuff, huh?

Let me handle this!

Don't try to be a hero!

At least... no more... work.

Maybe this is just... fate's dark design.

Is this... my final job?

I see how it is.

Ugh, what a nuisance!

I hear you've got a job for me.

Make sure to keep up.

Sooner we're done, the better.

It seems that our tastes are aligned when it comes to food.

At least I'll be able to eat my fill with this.

Do you really like this food?

I like that he's in the habit of always offering to pick up the tab. In fact, his tavern etiquette in general is very good: He knows which questions he can ask and which ones to avoid. But since we figured each other out, I don't need to be too guarded around him anymore. It's so much easier to get along with people when they're smart like him.