Tears, The Lyre, and The Bard Who Wouldn't Shut Up

Alright. Here we go again. The moment the sun rose and Venti yawned like a drama queen awakening from a hundred-year nap, I knew we were back in the plot.

"Time to get to the real business," Lumine said, flipping her hair like a protagonist ready to fix a dragon.

And me? I just wanted breakfast.

Anyway, since the Fatui fumbled harder than me trying to use chopsticks left-handed, they didn't get their grubby gloves on the Holy Lyre. Thanks to me, obviously. MVP. Carrying this team like a Pyro slime at a fireworks show.

Venti took out the Lyre like it was a relic from his garage sale days. He just held it up to the light, all sparkly-eyed like it was a long-lost ex he wasn't over.

"She's... still the same," he whispered.

Bro. It's a Lyre. Not your first love. Get it together.

Jean, the ever-practical queen she is, cut straight to the point. "So... can we summon Dvalin now?"

Venti blinked. "Haha, yeah no. About that. She's, uh... out of Anemo juice."

Of course. The instrument that's supposed to save the dragon is basically a decorative paperweight.

Then he asked for the purified tears.

Lumine turned to me.

I gave her the smuggest grin I could muster. "Oh? Looking for this?" I pulled out the purified tears like I was doing a magician reveal.

"Oh, you still actually have it?" she asked.

"Damn right! Because I'm reliable, responsible, incredibly attractive, and I'm also the one carrying our stuffs," I said. "Also Venti said to hold it and I forgot to give it back."

Lumine rolled her eyes but took it anyway. She held it over the Lyre, and suddenly — BAM. Magic. Sparkles. Lights. Soundtrack intensifies.

It worked.

Somehow.

Don't ask me how. It was in the script. I'm just here for comedic relief and potential fanservice.

Venti gasped. "It's working! The Lyre is healing!"

Cue another monologue.

"This means Dvalin must be suffering somewhere, alone, abandoned, without song, without love—"

"—without therapy," I muttered.

But the Lyre was still kinda cracked. Like my patience. So of course, now we have to go find more dragon tears. Because apparently dragons are really emotional and we need to harvest their crying sessions like Pokémon cards.

Jean stepped up. "I'll mobilize the Knights. We'll search the region. This mission is too important."

She gave a determined look and left like the badass she is.

And me? I turned to Diluc.

I nudged him with the most annoying grin. "So... you and Jean, huh? Good couple. Ever think about getting married?"

He looked at me like I just suggested naming his wine cellar 'The Grape Zone.'

"You really are an idiot," he said.

BUT!

He didn't say no.

That's improvement. That's progress. That's HOPE.

In his mind, he was probably thinking "at least the idiot has taste." I could feel it. The energy. The slow-burn tension. The mutual respect hidden beneath ten layers of grumpiness.

If the devs won't do it, I will.

Like Thanos once said, "Fine. I'll do it myself."

"Okay!" Venti clapped his hands like we weren't spiraling into chaos. "Time to collect more tears, purify them, and fix the Lyre!"

Paimon squinted at him. "And what are you gonna do? Just sing and vibe while we do the work?"

Venti gave her a smirk. "Exactly."

Paimon lost it. "You're so cheeky, Paimon will give you an ugly nickname! Starting today, you are now TONE-DEAF BARD!"

The whole tavern shook from her rage.

I was in tears.

And so, our next epic adventure begins: chasing down salty dragon tears like emotional bounty hunters.

And maybe, just maybe... getting those two married.

Pray for us.

***

Alright. So. Remember when I said things were escalating?

Yeah, that was BEFORE we launched Operation: Track Down Dragon Snot.

Jean came back all knighted-up and professional, holding a scroll like she was about to give us homework. Of course, because why have peace when we can have quests?

"We've located the remaining sources of Dvalin's tears," she said, calm as ever, like she hadn't just let Venti monologue half the day away. And let me tell you, listening to Venti talk without end is like being trapped in a bard-powered podcast with no skip button.

Paimon's eyes sparkled. "You found them all?"

"Three more," Jean nodded. "One in the Thousand Winds Temple. One at Dadaupa Gorge. One inside ancient ruins."

Ruins. Of course. Because nothing says "fun" like cursed death corridors and anxiety traps.

I immediately felt like I swallowed a pinecone. Ancient ruins? Bro, I trip walking into taverns. You want me to go all Lara Croft? Nah.

But off we went. Operation Dragon Snot: Activated.

First Stop: Thousand Winds Temple

Beautiful skies. Singing birds. Ruin guard with red death lasers. Because of course.

I stared. It stared back. Possibly. I mean, glowing eye counts as eye contact, right?

"Why is it always a ruin guard?" I grumbled. Like, seriously, does Mondstadt just store them in bulk?

"It's guarding the tear!" said Paimon cheerfully, as if we were going after candy.

Internally, I was already writing my will. "Meh. We're gonna have to fight a robot way bigger than this once we reach Sumeru. Consider this... practice," I said aloud, pretending I had a spine.

"Brace yourselves," said Diluc, always with the drama. Man acts like he's in a Shakespeare play every time we face danger. He's still cool as fuck, though.

"You say 'brace yourself' like I didn't just consider faking an injury," I muttered. My ankle? Slightly twistable.

"We can take it down. Stay sharp," Jean added, all composed and heroic.

"May the wind guide us!" Venti cheered.

"The wind better guide me to therapy when this is over," I grumbled. No way I was emotionally prepared for this boss fight.

And then it moved.

I did not move.

Okay, fine, I screamed a little. Just a little. But I did fight. And I did not die. That's called improvement, baby.

We actually pulled off some anime-level team synergy. Venti blasted the thing, Lumine spun around like an angry ballerina, Diluc brought the flames of hell, Jean was out there being everyone's mom with the heals, and me? Tactical positioning. Behind a rock. Totally on purpose. Don't judge me.

"That tear was here?" Paimon blinked.

"Knights are trained to detect trace energies. These sites resonate with Dvalin's memories," Jean explained.

I crossed my arms. "Okay but like, did Dvalin just scatter his feelings across the map like a tragic poet on a treasure hunt?"

Silence.

"Alright, I'll write the Dvalin fanfic myself."

Next Stop: Dadaupa Gorge

Ah, the land of hilichurls and poor life choices.

On the way, I couldn't help myself.

"So Diluc," I began casually, because nosiness is in my blood. "Used to be a Knight, huh?"

He sighed like I just stepped on a wine barrel.

"I heard you and Jean both had pet turtles," I added. Go ahead. Try denying turtle destiny. I know everything about you two.

Jean smiled. "That's true. Mine's named Kaiser." Hey I didn't know it had a name! It wasn't mentioned in the game! New learnings, huh?

"...Same," Diluc said.

Wait.

"You guys named your turtles the same thing?!"

"We were close," Jean added.

I looked up at the invisible camera like I was in a sitcom. "And you're telling me this isn't a slow-burn romance?"

"You talk too much," Diluc muttered.

"I talk truth, fire daddy," I replied.

"Still weird though," Paimon chimed in.

"My dear floating pistachio, it's destiny. Turtle-naming destiny."

We arrived. Cue the hilichurl parade. And Mitachurls with the thickest shields I've ever seen. Like, bro, what are you compensating for?

But with Jean and Diluc in the party, they got mopped up like spilled wine in Diluc's tavern. I even defeated a Mitachurl. With my own hands. Sort of. Okay, there might've been elemental reactions involved. But it counts!

"You're improving," Jean said with a small smile.

My soul ascended. That's it. That's my reward. Validation unlocked.

Diluc gave me the tiniest nod of acknowledgment. It was like watching a glacier blink.

"You were flailing," said Paimon.

"I was flailing with flair," I corrected.

Final Stop: Ruins. Yay.

Ruins. My favorite. Said no one ever.

Full of traps, echoey footsteps, and emotional trauma. Basically my nightmare.

"Do we really have to go in there?" I tried. One last desperate plea.

"Do you want Dvalin to keep crying over Mondstadt?" Diluc shot back.

"I want Dvalin to seek healthy emotional outlets," I mumbled. Journaling, perhaps?

But no one listened. Obviously.

Inside was peak nightmare fuel. Pressure plates, Abyss Mages, suspiciously creaky walls. At one point Venti started humming and Paimon immediately labeled him "Tone-deaf Bard." He didn't even flinch. Man's ego must be bulletproof.

Jean led like a boss, Lumine was the team ninja, Diluc was ready to commit arson at a moment's notice, and I was just... there. Charming. Panicking. Probably glowing.

Naturally, I stepped on a trap. Something exploded. Venti yelled something poetic. I choked on dust. Peak performance.

Eventually, we reached the last tear.

"Is that it? Can I retire now?" I wheezed, half-dead, fully dramatic.

"Let's return to Master Diluc's place," said Jean.

"The Dawn Winery awaits," added Venti. He seems happy. This damn druankard.

"Do they serve sandwiches at your place, Master Diluc?" I asked.

"You need sleep, Paimon will get the sandwich," Paimon said, unimpressed.

"I need sleep, food, and emotional support. Dvalin's trauma has now become my trauma."

But hey—we did it.

Three dragon tears: collected. One sarcastic legend: still alive. Diluc and Jean's marriage subplot? Still shipping it.

Now let's go fix that Lyre and save our melodramatic sky lizard.

And after we gathered the tears. The drama. The trauma. The blisters. And now we were back at the Dawn Winery, everyone a little singed, emotionally or otherwise.

Paimon, bless her floating sugar-self, threw her hands up like we were in a Marvel movie. "Dvalin Protection Squad—ASSEMBLE!"

I blinked. "Can we get matching uniforms? I vote for capes."

"No capes!" Venti chirped. "They're hazardous. One strong gust of wind and—woosh! Suddenly you're airborne and not in a cute way."

Says the one who wears a cape.

Jean tried to stay professional. It almost worked. "This is serious."

"It's always serious with you, Jean," I said. "Let the bard vibe."

Venti was, as usual, dramatically tuned into another plane of existence. He held one of the purified tears like it was a glass of vintage heartbreak. "Dvalin... to think he's been suffering alone, poisoned by the Abyss... His song twisted into cries."

"Okay, but real talk," I said, "if I had that many people shooting at me in the sky every day, I'd turn emo too."

"Dvalin is not emo," Venti said, puffing his cheeks. "He is misunderstood."

"Like every emo."

While they were busy philosophizing, Lumine had casually started purifying the tears. Like no big deal. Just handling cursed ancient dragon trauma on a Tuesday afternoon. As you do.

I watched in awe. "You sure you're not secretly a nun or something?"

"I had practice," Lumine replied calmly, her fingers glowing with elemental energy as she held the crystals.

Then, bam—Lyre repaired. Just like that. She held it out and Venti nearly passed out from excitement.

"She's beautiful," he whispered.

"I assume you're talking about the Lyre and not Lumine?" I asked.

"Why not both?"

Jean finally clapped her hands. "Now that the Lyre is restored, we need to discuss where to summon Dvalin. It must be far from the city to avoid civilian casualties."

"Why not here?" she added, gesturing around the winery.

Cue the sound of Diluc's soul evacuating.

"If the winery gets destroyed," Diluc said, "it's not something I couldn't fix... eventually. But I'd rather not go through that hassle."

I tilted my head. "He doesn't seem mad about it, though. That's suspicious."

Diluc raised a brow at me. "Would you like to test how mad I can get?"

"Nope. That was a compliment. A brooding compliment."

Venti strummed a single mysterious note. "The winds that blow across mountain and sea... might carry the bard's voice where it needs to be."

I stared. "Was that a sentence? Or did you just get possessed mid-sentence?"

"He means we need a windy cliff," Paimon translated, bless her.

"Ohhh, right... It's in one of the scripts," I said. "You know, if we ever need to open a poetry club, we've got the founding member right here."

Diluc, master of dry practicality, finally nodded. "If a cliff is what we need, Starsnatch Cliff is the ideal spot. It's high, isolated, and... durable."

"Like my patience," Jean murmured.

"So we're going full drama mode?" I asked. "Like summon-the-ancient-sky-beast-on-a-cliff-at-sunset mode?"

"That's the plan," Venti confirmed.

"Well, alright then," I stretched. "Let's go summon a big depressed dragon from a cliff. What could possibly go wrong?"

Everything...

There...

I answered my own question.

Happy now?

________________________________________

End of Chapter 9

Quest completed: Get all the tears of the Dragon, survive yet another ruin

Rewards: +1 Repaired Holy Lyre der Himmel, +5 Team Bonding Moments, and +50% increase in "How are you still alive?" glares from Jean