[ There was so much that Morax buries underneath the rubble of war, of loss, of erosion. Barbatos has no idea. The only thing he could was sympathize with was loss, for no matter if it was crumbling dust or arrows reining to targets undeserving... life can be cruel as it was fruitful.

It makes Morax hard to pinpoint – he holds back little, regardless. ]

Our people can figure it out together, but you and I deserve the same freedoms. They've done well working where our eyes do not watch and building when we cannot.

[ Stubbornly, he fails at his attempt to show Morax a lighter side – where the sun can dance against his skin as much as the calm wind. His wings withdraw, sprawling behind him with an outstretched span. ]

Are you denying me, blockhead? Hmph. Perhaps I'll return to Mondstadt proper...