An arcanist's work. Exhibited in the late 14th century, late 16th century, early 17th century, and the 1990s. Exhibition duration unknown. Possibly created i... [Read more]
English: Vera Tan
An arcanist's work. Exhibited in the late 14th century, late 16th century, early 17th century, and the 1990s. Exhibition duration unknown. Possibly created in summer. Originally exhibited in various locations across China. Now housed in the St. Pavlov Foundation.
- Oooof, that was quite a spin ... Well now, would you look at you? Time truly does gallop like a wild horse, eh? I am Paper Heron, humble Daoist, wanderer—and very glad to make your acquaintance.
(First Encounter Voiceline)
- Oh! Rain ... Quite unlike the kind in Huanzhou. 'A drizzle through spring blossoms holds no wet, just as a gentle breeze beneath willows carries no cold,' they'd say. You could walk in it all day and come away with only a few pearly drops in your hair.
(Suitcase Climate Voiceline)
- Once, a countryman with ambitions to measure the land with his own feet urged me to put my journey into words. I didn't think much of it then, but lately, it feels worth a volume or two. Or ten. What can I say? Haha—there's so much worth remembering these days!
(To the Future Voiceline)
- Why the sullen look, hm? Something weighing on you? Come—sit. Let's see what this coin has to say. Heads, and all will be well. Tails ... and, well, let's just say you're in for a lucky escape.
(Idle Voiceline)
- Ah! Oh, it's you! I'm still settling in. Not so used to staying in one place, see—especially with so many visitors. Lucky for me, I have a few more centuries to get accustomed to it.
(Greetings Voiceline)
- To follow the Way is to master the art of flow—unbound and ever at ease: if you're tired, nap; if you're hungry, eat ... Speaking of which, what's for breakfast?
(Morning Voiceline)
- A quiet morning indeed. Wait, this touch on my cheek, is it ... the morning breeze? So soft, so crisp ... You feel it too, don't you?
(Bond: Morning Voiceline)
- I often climb the highest roof I can find—watch the city lights flicker below, listen to the laughter riding on the wind. It all feels so familiar, and yet somehow so very far away.
(Night Voiceline)
- It was a bright, silvery night—the sort where the moon bathes the world in a thin sheen. For the first time in a hundred years, I climbed those stairs again, through grass that had surely sprung anew countless times. And yet, there it was—the Mei tree, looking down at me from atop the mountain. Hard to believe another few hundred years have passed since even that night.
(Bond: Night Voiceline)
- The flower on my hairpin—ah, the Mei blossom? You like it, eh? It certainly isn't the easiest flower to favor. Admired for blooming in frost and snow, yet cannot bear even the smallest touch of warmth. Quite the temperament, I'd say.
(Hat and Hair Voiceline)
- —Still does all a sword must do.
(Sleeves and Hands Voiceline)
- Scattered beans turned into an army, a river carved with the stroke of a sword—all child's play to me! Just a ditch and paper-cut figures? Come now—large or small, life or death, everything is relative.
(Clothing and Torso Voiceline)
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