── ⌊ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐎𝐍𝐄 . . .

[atlas,]

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genshin one x one roleplay be-
tween atlas & koi.fish
please dnp unless one of us or a mod!
thank you <3

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[koi.fish]

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name. guillaume, archon of guilt gender. male age. 2000+ chronologically,
25 biologically gnosis. hydro nation. fontaine constellation. submersi iudi
cii 'drowned judgment' weapon. spear, a bayonet named 'marees changean
tes' or 'changing tides' height. 183cm hair. white with blue tips eyes. blue
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- disguised himself as a human who works as the military general of
fontaine when he discovered the fatui's intentions
- presents himself as poised and regal as any leader should be
- has a stone-cold face to back that up too
- however, his nation's interests are not truly at the heart of his actions
- a rather selfish man who only wants fontaine to prosper as a means to feed
his ego, however, his goals usually align with the wellbeing of his people
- with a stubborn nature and hardened resolve, swaying him is a fool's errand
- quite the tyrant, he strives to maintain order no matter the cost with a blind
eye often turned when lives have been spent at his behest
- with all that in mind, people close to him are a rare sight indeed
- although, when someone has somehow wormed their way into his cold heart,
he has a mildly concerning possessiveness towards them
- easily prone to hysterics whether it be due to someone he cares about in
danger or when something isn't going his way, his anger is quite explosive
to say the least

[atlas,]

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uhhhhh
idk i'll do
something
pretty with
this later

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name. wolfgang snezhevich gender. cismale age. twenty-three vision.
cryo nation. snezhnaya constellation. frigoris custos (frost keeper)
weapon. sword, hidden in the staff he carries around height. 178cm

- nickname is wolf; has a sister within the fatui who affectionately
calls him "little pup"
- born in mondstadt; parents were in an adventure team but died on
a mission so he was quickly orphaned
- he was 'given' to the house of the hearth orphanage at age 4
- due to this, he is loyal to arlecchino and snezhnaya as a whole
- like his name implies, wolfgang is very devoted and loyal to the
people he cares for, which makes him a perfect candidate for the
fatui
- the perfect soldier; follows orders and commands without issue;
does, however, has a bit of a rebellious streak when it comes to
rules because he thinks it's funny
- uses his natural aloof and curious nature to his advantage
- very excellent at facades and using people to his own gain; so
much so that most can't tell if his smiles are genuine or not
- often approaches tasks with a "gather info, remove the threat"
mentality that has earned him a gruesome reputation within ranks
- has no real opinion on the tsaritsa's main goals; he mostly cares
for the people within snezhnaya's borders
- almost animalistically protective of his loved ones
- fc is merlin from fgo

[koi.fish]

▌█ ─── 𝐆𝐔𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐌𝐄

Humans were disappointing for as long as he'd known them, and the predicament Guillaume had found himself in was only further cementing in said notions. Cowards, clearly.

Guillaume was not a particularly careful man, that much was more than well known amongst the citizens of Fontaine, however even an anonymous tip specifying the whereabouts of a fatui squadron and their numbers should've been enough to set him off, but he'd somehow taken a nonchalant perspective of the matter and strode into the woodlands just outside the city with an equally as carefree manner. The numbers he'd been given were larger than usual but it wasn't anything he knew he couldn't handle─leave the city for a few moments to eradicate the threat and return immediately without wasting a second longer was the intended timeline of events, at least, even if he had been attacked from behind by more than triple the amount of fatui mentioned in the tip, it still was despite many aspects of his circumstances suggesting otherwise. Thus, the price to pay for overestimating himself once again was the crux of Guillaume's present situation.

Disarmed with his bayonet kicked out of reach and hands bound behind his back, silver tendrils of hair obscured his vision as widened eyes glassy with tears glared at the figures surrounding him. His chest rose unsteadily as ragged breaths escaped bruised lips, struggling against the rope burning at his wrists only to further dirty his side against the soil. Fontaine was so close, help was so close, yet the loudest his voice could carry itself was in a raspy wheeze. Was this what humiliation felt like? To be humbled as a literal god amongst men by a few mindless followers of a fruitless cause? Of course not, he was above mortals and to think that they'd be unaware of that was truly pitiful; but he was a generous archon and as such, he would be more than willing to enlighten them. Guillaume blindly lashed at the opposing militia with his legs, unable to gauge his success as his senses tunneled into simply making as much of a scene as possible.

"Release me at once! If I am returned to Fontaine unharmed I assure you I will overlook this... incident. However, if you fail to do so, my subordinates will locate you and eliminate anyone they deem a threat to our nation," Guillaume ordered with a voice remaining just as commanding as it usually was if not for a newfound hoarseness to it. Fake it 'til you make it; isn't that what any interaction is all about? Although, the contents of his words were not entirely truthful either. If he were to be unable to return, the rest of the Fontaine military would simply chalk it up to an unexpected expedition as their general had overlooked the need to inform anyone of his whereabouts before investigating the tip. However, Guillaume failed to see how that was important, the fatui would clearly release him and cease to target him and his nation forever... right?

[atlas,]

❛ 𝐖𝐎𝐋𝐅𝐆𝐀𝐍𝐆 ────


To say that Wolfgang is unimpressed is something of an understatement—a thing that would be muttered with downcasted eyes and a ducked head. An unwanted and unnecessary observation that can only spell worse things.

He's a soldier. One of the Fatui's best, which is a confident boast of sorts, his natural cockiness showing through, and a matter of fact, all in one. Brought up on stories of love, ice, and chills, and raised with nothing but guiding words, molding his structure and actions into what he is today, Wolfgang, truly, is nothing more than a simple soldier in the grand scheme of things. A simple, if not worthy, pawn in the Archons' game of chess that they seem so excited to play. Wolfgang doesn't mind being out of the loop on matters like the Tsaritsa's goals and hardly bats an eye to the Harbinger's personal checklists, whether they be excessively long and concerning or short and one-minded. It is not his job to question authority, nor does he want to.

He's here to serve. All he's ever been in the Fatui to do. Which is why Wolfgang is standing here now on the outskirts of Fontaine's beautiful city, watching his charges tie up and handle one of the few military generals of Fontaine, a man who goes by Guillaume, if he recalls correctly. Truth be told, Wolf was under the understandable impression that to be a general of any kind of power, was that you yourself must have the experience and strength to back it up. Wolfgang does, which is why he is a Lieutenant, and he never passes up the chance to showcase his talents to his more rowdy recruits and officers to prove just why he was the one in charge of them. But, as he watches the ambush play out with keen eyes and his hand on his staff, he feels nothing but a twisted sense of second-hand embarrassment and scorn.

This man was a military general? One who seemed so confident in his abilities to confront a 'tip' about nearby Fatui all alone? Yes, Wolfgang is quite unimpressed. Especially considering that most of his soldiers are more-or-less 'fresh blood' and do their best if only to please their commanding officer. The Lieutenant huffs out a laugh at the sight of one of his newer recruits immediately backing up from the man after getting a kick to her shin, hissing all the while. That being said, he does admire the fighting spirit, even if the poor man can't ever hope to execute it in a way that matters. With a small order for his charges to part way for him, he trots out of the underbrush, indigo eyes sharpening on the man with amusement. He's apprehended similar people to Guillaume; people who found it to be wise to try to persuade him to release them. One thing they always seem to forget is that the Fatui do not answer orders from others. Or, at the least, answer orders that don't benefit the organization.

"Keep in mind that you should never get too close to a cornered opponent, but well done." He's pleased to commend his recruits for their task, managing to hide the small laugh that almost escapes him at how they perk up. It reminds him of his younger days, truly. They had done a swell job at overwhelming the target and an even better at restraining him, who was he to deny them of praise in that regard? Wolfgang turns his attention back to Guillaume just as one of his recruits hands him the man's bayonet—a beautiful but deadly thing that he will certainly delight in taking for now. As Guillaume finishes his statement, the man barely holds back a guffaw of laughter.

"Save your breath," he chuckles wryly, standing before the man just out of reach, "the chances of your precious subordinates coming to rescue you are slim to none, my friend. I'm not after your life. So, no need to worry too much." The smile Wolf gives after his words is one that doesn't quite meet his eyes, sharp-toothed and purposefully unsettling. Wolfgang isn't here for negotiations or the sort; why bother on trying to present himself nicely? "As a general, you have access to plethora of information and inside scoop of the inner workings of the world, do you not? Would you be interested in sharing some of this with us?" A rhetorical question, clearly, judging by how the older recruits scramble to cover the sound of their chuckles, as if denying Wolfgang was even an option for the general.

[koi.fish]

▌█ ─── 𝐆𝐔𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐌𝐄

Pale hands grasped at the roughened cords with a continued frenzy, the biting scorn of being bound so carelessly like a ragdoll only fueled further at the sight of an imposing man emerging from the foliage; a man whose name escaped him, which may have arguably been another contributor to Guillaume's foil. But this was who was at fault for why Guillaume wasn't even tied up with dignity? If all of the Tsaritsa's goons were as careless at treating those of high society such as himself, it simply escaped the general's mind as to how the Fatui could have gotten as far as they did. And apparently, it seemed that this trait of their organisation extended in application to their leaders. What Guillaume assumed to be the lieutenant had the gall to not even bother to acknowledge him first as he delicately examined Guillaume's only lifeline after it was swiftly yanked from its position just out of reach.

A sharp laugh choked its way out Guillaume's throat at the man's refined threats. Information? Was that what really all they were after? No doubt the Fatui couldn't organise a simple infiltration of Fontaine; it was perfectly understandable considering how the muffled sound of their giggles betrayed their assumption of his compliance. Getting himself out of this would be easier than he thought.

"If you're hunting the hydro gnosis, I'm afraid to say that the archon has disappeared, so bending to the whims of your Tsaritsa may be a little difficult as of late," he smiled a smile a tad too confident for someone in his situation before continuing (albeit, perhaps regretfully so), "Of course, it's no surprise the Tsaritsa's goons are as amateur as the likes of you. Now, you've received your information, so if you could be so kind as to release me, I'll retain my offer of turning a blind eye."

The lieutenant had no way of denying his claim; the archon was no longer overseeing Fontaine and Guillaume had taken charge. Denying hard and fast facts would be impossible. If only he could simply keep his facade of confidence long enough to return and launch a counter attack on them lest the man before him were to connects the dots of his suspiciously timed appearance in Fontanian society.