Genshin Impact: A Fool

An: There are two important things here, but I decide to give it to the festival. HAah...

Nighttime, Mondstadt, at the clearing outside of the walls, Heins found himself standing alone calmly, like a solitude warrior. He felt something... different from his Vision. It throbbed, as if it was attracted by something within him.

Thus, Heins was forced to distanced himself further from the walls of Mondstadt, fearing that the commotion would disturb the peaceful Mondstadt. After arriving in a relatively desolate clearing, specifically a beach with stony peaks, Heins took a deep breath and unsheathed his sword.

Heins stood alone in the desolate clearing, the stony peaks jutting out from the shore like ancient sentinels.

The moonlight cast an eerie glow on the waves, their rhythmic crashing against the rocks a solemn symphony in the night. Heins' breath misted in the cool air as he drew his blade, the metal singing as it left its sheath.

As he focused inward, Heins felt the surge of his murderous intent, a tidal wave of rage and resentment that had been building within him for years.

Every life he had taken, every drop of blood spilled by his hand, had contributed to its growth - a macabre tapestry woven with the threads of violence and survival.

Heins had first tasted death at a tender age, his innocence shattered the moment his father's blood had warmed the cold earth.

Since then, he had fought for one purpose alone: to kill.

The memories of his victims were countless, their faces blurring together in a grotesque parade of the dead. Heins had long since lost track of the number of lives he had extinguished, the weight of their souls a constant burden upon his conscience.

He did every mean to survive, and the corpses of the people he killed... Became the stack of corpses that formed a bridge he had used to survive.

Not a fun childhood, indeed.

As his murderous intent reached a crescendo, Heins witnessed an astonishing sight.

Tendrils of Electro energy, crackling and snapping with barely contained power, erupted from his body. They swirled around him in a chaotic dance, drawn to the pulsating heart of his rage like moths to a flame.

Heins watched in awe as his killing intent and his Vision merged, the two forces intertwining in a deadly embrace.

The Electro currents, once a vibrant purple, began to shift and change, deepening in hue until they blazed a furious, blood-red. The sight was both terrifying and magnificent, a testament to the sheer, unbridled power that dwelled within him.

Heins could feel the change, the surge of newfound strength coursing through his veins. With this augmented power, he knew he could achieve his ultimate goal - the chance to stand before his beloved Mistress, to prove his worth and devotion, along with his foolish vow.

If before he was merely manipulating it, now, it felt like... It was truly his own.

But he also understood the price that came with such power, the constant battle against the savage beast that lurked within his heart.

Heins sheathed his blade, the metal singing a discordant note as it was returned to its resting place. He took a deep breath, the cool night air filling his lungs as he gazed out at the dark expanse of the sea.

"I shall call it... Red Blood Electro. Murderous Thunder."

To kill in a flash, to unsheath the blade and let it sing a single symphony as a flashing red blood thunder took his opponents' lives.

After training with his sword for three years, Heins finally had a swordsmanship on his own. It contained of not much, only a single form.

Single Form: Symphony of Death.

With a blurry draw, Heins sheathed his sword once again. It was a single draw, but in that instant, murderous, merciless flash of red blood thunder split the waterscape before him.

Heins stood motionless, his reflection mirrored in the tranquil waters before him. The moonlight cast an ethereal glow upon his silhouette, illuminating the determined set of his jaw and the resolute stance of his body.

He had named his creation, forged through countless hours of toil and tempered by the unrelenting pursuit of a single purpose - to end lives, to grant death. Always had been, always has, and always will.

The "Symphony of Death" was not a dance of power or speed, nor a display of martial grace. It was a lethal ballet, a macabre waltz with the reaper. With a single, fluid motion, Heins would draw his blade in a blur, the steel singing a haunting melody as it cleaved the air.

And in that fleeting instant, a crimson bolt of lightning would erupt from the sword's edge, a murderous thunder that sought only to claim its next victim.

Heins knew this form was not the pinnacle of swordsmanship, not the ultimate expression of martial arts. It was a tool, a means to an end - a way to deliver death swiftly and without mercy.

The "Symphony of Death" was the embodiment of Heins' existence, the reason he had dedicated himself to the path of the blade.

As he stood there, the cool night breeze caressed his skin, carrying with it the faint scent of the sea. Heins closed his eyes, his mind drifting to thoughts of her - his beloved Mistress, the one he strove to impress and protect.

With each life he took, with every death he granted, Heins moved one step closer to her side.

Heins knew the weight of the lives he had taken, the burden of the souls that clung to him like a shroud.

But he also knew that this was the path he had chosen, the only way to prove himself worthy of her affections.

And so, with grim resolve, Heins sheathed his blade, the metal whispering softly as it returned to its resting place.

He hope to stand before his Mistress and offer her his blade, and his life, in eternal service.

In a desolate, closed up nation, a beautiful yet enclosed nation called Inazuma, at the highest resident of Tenshukaku, one of the three regions that made up Inazuma, reside the esteemed Electro Archon, Raiden Shogun.

Raiden Shogun sat in her opulent chambers, the grandeur of Tenshukaku's highest abode surrounding her like an ornate cage. The moonlight filtered through the paper screens, casting a soft glow upon her pale skin and the shimmering fabric of her purple kimono.

Her long, dark violet hair cascaded down her back in a braid that seemed to emit a faint, ethereal luminescence.

As she sat cross-legged, her eyes fluttered open, a flicker of concern etched upon her regal features. An inexplicable sensation washed over her, a sudden and violent tugging at the electro energy that coursed through her divine form.

It felt as if a piece of her very essence had been ripped away, torn asunder by an unseen force.

Raiden Shogun furrowed her brow, her heart clenching in her chest as if a phantom hand had reached in to squeeze the life from it.

She rose to her feet, her long purple stockings whispering against the polished floor as she strode to the balcony, her black sleeves billowing behind her.

Gazing out at the night sky, the Electro Archon searched the heavens for answers, her blue-violet eyes reflecting the constellations above.

A sense of unease settled over her, a gnawing dread that something profound and unsettling had transpired.

"What is going on..." Raiden Shogun murmured, her melodic voice tinged with a rare note of uncertainty. "Why do I feel as if a part of my power has been stolen away?"

She knew not what force could possibly siphon the energy of an Archon, but the sensation persisted, a lingering emptiness that refused to dissipate.

Raiden Shogun gripped the railing of the balcony, her knuckles turning white as she strained to comprehend the source of her discomfort.

As the ruler of Inazuma, she had faced many challenges and threats, but never before had she experienced such a violation of her divine essence.

Raiden Shogun vowed to uncover the truth behind this inexplicable occurrence, to unravel the mystery and reclaim whatever piece of herself had been forcibly taken.

"Whoever you are.... Just know that you got my attention."

Thus, the new policy, 'Electro Vision Hunt' was born, a decree an order higher than the 'Vision Hunt Decree'. The effect it has towards Inazuma... Will be known in the future.

As always, time moved exceptionally quick. As he enjoyed his time in Mondstadt, almost a month has passed.

As the month drew to a close, Heins

found himself in a state of bewildered amusement at the sudden transformation of Mondstadt.

The once tranquil city had erupted into a vibrant tapestry of colors, with streamers and lanterns adorning every street. The air was filled with a symphony of laughter, music, and the tantalizing aroma of festival delicacies.

Heins had been blissfully unaware of the impending celebrations, too engrossed in his relentless training regimen to take notice of the growing festivities.

His days were filled with the rhythmic dance of the Symphony of Death, the electric crackle of the Red Blood Electro coursing through his veins as he pushed his limits to the brink.

It was only when Jean and Eula, their eyes sparkling with childlike excitement, had taken him aside that Heins learned the truth.

The Windblume Festival, a grand celebration of the arrival of spring, was upon them. The normally serene streets of Mondstadt had shed their usual tranquility like a snake shedding its skin, revealing a boisterous, lively spirit that seemed to have lain dormant until now.

Heins couldn't help but chuckle softly to himself as he wandered through the bustling crowds, the little ladies of Mondstadt practically swooning at the sight of him.

Their giggles and whispered conversations followed him like a chorus, a testament to the peculiar allure of his dual persona.

To think that his popularity stemmed not solely from his striking features, but from the stark contrast between his icy indifference and the rare moments of warmth he displayed, was a revelation that left Heins somewhat dumbfounded. Kaeya truly had a way to disclosed the truth.

He supposed there was a certain charm in the enigma he presented, a fascination born of the unknown and the unattainable.

As he made his way through the festival, Heins found himself drawn into various games and activities, his newfound fame ensuring that he was the center of attention wherever he went.

From the dance performances, where his reluctant participation only served to heighten his mystique, to the contest of speed where his thunderous arrival shook the people to their core, Heins was the epitome of the elusive, desirable figure that the girls of his age within Mondstadt yearned for.

Despite the chaos and the commotion, Heins couldn't deny that the festival had a certain charm to it. The joy and revelry were infectious, and even his stoic demeanor couldn't remain entirely unaffected.

As he looked around at the smiling faces and the twirling lanterns, Heins felt a strange sense of belonging, a temporary respite from the weight of his self-imposed solitude.

But as quickly as it had come, the feeling passed, and Heins was left with the bittersweet realization that this too was a fleeting moment, a brief interlude in the grand tapestry of his existence.

For he knew that come the morrow, he would return to his training, to the path of the blade and the pursuit of perfection.

And so, Heins allowed himself to be swept up in the festivities, to lose himself in the laughter and the music, if only for a night.

After the festival was over, he would don his mask once more, the enigmatic figure that the girls of Mondstadt had come to admire and desire. But tonight, under the watchful gaze of the Windblume, he was simply a boy, enjoying the simple pleasures of the festival.

The days of Windblume Festival were fun, exhilarating, and enlightening. For Heins, the relentless pursuit of Mondstadt was admirable. Perhaps he could say that it was a naive concept, a concept that was full of childish dreams and unrealistic pursuit. But Heins understood that this very essence of Freedom... Was exactly what he had been pursuing this whole time.

Heins found himself reflecting on the profound significance of the Windblume celebrations.

The revelry and merriment that had consumed Mondstadt were more than just a mere excuse for indulgence and frivolity; they were a living testament to the indomitable spirit of freedom that coursed through the very veins of the city and its people.

Heins, with his pragmatic and cynical nature, had initially dismissed the pursuit of freedom as a naive and unrealistic notion.

In a world where the chains of oppression and expectation were as constant and inevitable as the rising of the sun, the idea of true, unbridled freedom seemed little more than a pipe dream. A fleeting fancy that would inevitably be shattered against the unyielding realities of existence.

Yet as he watched the people of Mondstadt embrace the festival with unabashed enthusiasm, their laughter echoing through the streets and their eyes shining with a fervent, almost religious zeal, Heins began to understand.

The Windblume Festival was not about the concept of freedom itself, but the unbreakable spirit of defiance and determination that it represented.

Each person, from the humblest commoner to the most esteemed noble, had their own Windblume Flower. A symbol of their deepest desires, their most cherished aspirations, and their unwavering commitment to pursuing them against all odds.

Jean's dandelion, a weed that thrived in the harshest of conditions, embodied her unyielding resilience and perseverance in the face of adversity.

Eula's gladiolus, a flower of strength and intelligence, mirrored her steadfast dedication to upholding justice and protecting the innocent.

Kaeya's snapdragon, a blossom of deception and grace, hinted at the cunning and adaptability that had allowed him to carve out a place for himself in Mondstadt.

Diluc's iris, a symbol of valor and wisdom, spoke to his unwavering courage and insight in the pursuit of his convictions.

And then there was Heins, the outsider who had found himself inexplicably drawn to the city's cause.

As he plucked a single rose from the countless blossoms adorning the festival, he felt a strange sense of kinship with the people around him.

The thorns that pricked his fingertips as he grasped the stem were a poignant reminder of the sacrifices he had made, the trials he had endured, in the name of his version of freedom he now sought.

Heins had always been a person of pragmatism, of cold, hard logic. He had seen the world as a harsh and unforgiving place, where the strong preyed upon the weak, and the only way to survive was to be stronger, faster, and more ruthless than those around you.

But Mondstadt had shown him a different way, a way where the pursuit of freedom was not just a distant dream, but a tangible reality.

As the squeals of his admirers echoed around him, Heins felt a strange sense of acceptance. He knew that his path would be a thorny one, fraught with obstacles and setbacks at every turn. But he also knew that he could not turn back now, could not abandon the cause of freedom that he had come to champion.

For Heins, the rose was more than just a pretty flower. It was a symbol of the love he had.

It was a promise, a vow to continue fighting for that love. And that love... Was the love of his Mistress, who had entrusted her heart to him through her searing kiss that night.

In the festival, there was also something called as the Windblume Star, where a person who made the most sacrifice for Mondstadt would be chosen to offer their chosen Windblume Flower to the statue of the Anemo Archon, Barbatos.

From the previous years to now, many people are chosen, but it was obvious that the one who made the most sacrifice among people of Mondstaft... Is Grand Master Varka.

He was the Grand Master of the Knight of Favonius who protected Mondstadt from any threats all years long. No one deserves this position more than him.

Though the man himself shockingly refused. The citizens looked at each other, seemingly not surprised at all. His excuse would be, "I have gotten the title so many times! Give others the chance to have the honour!"

Thus, after looking at each other, citizens ultimately set their sight on the handsome, melancholic boy that is Heins, who looked up at the Statue of the Anemo Archon in silence as he tenderly hold a rose flower.

"Well... Master Fool discovered a big lair of the Abyss Order, so he is somewhat qualified," One of the people in the crowd interjected.

"Don't forget that he is merely eleven, and yet he is able to kill the Abyss Mage. Although he killed it to survive, the act ultimately removed a great threat for Mondstadt!" A boisterous laughter sounded out.

"He is pretty great at Genius Invokation too!" The owner of the Cat's Tail Tavern, Margaret, giggled.

It wasn't long before people roared in excitement as they found many excuses to enthroned him as the Windblume Star.

Some even went as far as exaggerating the compliments. Not to mention the excited squeals from the little ladies, even the real ladies themselves joined in!

Diluc smirked as he patted his back, "Well, Fool, it seems like you got the mantle."

Kaeya continued, chuckling along with his step-brother, "Indeed. Their adoration was already bad enough, but after this, those girls would go mayhem when they see you. Hope you're ready for that."

Jean glared at Kaeya for a moment before her big blue eyes shone as she smiled brightly, "Master... Go offer your rose to Barbatos. You are definitely worthy."

Eula nodded as she smiled, a slight blush donning her face, "Indeed."

As the clamor of voices rose around him, a cacophony of praise and exhortation, Heins stood rooted to the spot, his eyes fixed upon the towering statue of Barbatos.

The Anemo Archon loomed above, his serene visage a stark contrast to the frenzied scene below. Heins could feel the weight of the rose in his hand, the delicate petals trembling slightly as if sensing the gravity of the moment.

Heins had never sought accolades or acclaim. His actions, driven by pragmatism and self-interest, had rarely aligned with the notion of selfless sacrifice.

Yet here he stood, the unwitting focus of a city's gratitude and admiration. It was a strange sensation, to be the object of such collective fervor, and Heins couldn't help but feel a twinge of unease at the thought of being placed on a pedestal he had not earned.

And yet, as he listened to the litany of his supposed virtues and accomplishments, Heins began to realize that perhaps there was a kernel of truth hidden amidst the hyperbole.

He had, in his own way, made sacrifices for Mondstadt - not out of altruism, but out of a desire for survival and self-preservation. And in doing so, he had inadvertently become a bulwark against the darkness that threatened the city.

The discovery of the Abyss Order's lair, the defeat of the Abyss Mage, - these were not acts of selfless heroism, but they had nonetheless contributed to the safety and prosperity of Mondstadt.

And if the people saw fit to recognize those actions as worthy of honor, who was he to argue?

Heins glanced at the expectant faces around him, seeing the hope and anticipation shining in their eyes.

Jean's smile was particularly bright, her belief in him unwavering and absolute. He knew that to refuse this honor would be to disappoint her, and perhaps many others in the city.

With a sigh of resignation, Heins stepped forward, his footsteps echoing in the sudden silence that fell over the gathered crowd.

He climbed the steps slowly, each one a small eternity, until he stood before the statue of Barbatos. The rose trembled in his hand as he reached out, his fingers brushing against the cold stone of the Archon's pedestal.

As he placed the rose at the base of the statue, Heins felt a strange sensation wash over him - a sense of belonging, of purpose, that he had never experienced before.

It was as if, in this moment, he had become a part of something greater than himself, a living embodiment of the spirit of Mondstadt.

And as the crowd erupted into cheers and applause, Heins knew that he could not turn back now.

He had taken the first step down a path that would lead him to become the Windblume Star, and with it, a symbol of the indomitable spirit of Mondstadt.

Heins turned to face the people, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"I will not let you down," he said, his voice carrying over the din of the celebration.

As the festival went by, Heins who wanted to retreat to his room, watched as countless latters splurged into his place. Apparently, the Windbloom Festival is also a festival where many would confessed their feelings. He shook his head exasperatedly as the jovial bartender brought a massive bag full of letters.

The bartender chuckled as he nudged the bag, "Well, well, look at these, lad!"

Behind the bartender was Jean, who looked like she was quite in a bad moon. She looked at the letters and said coldly, "Can we burn them all?"

Heins eyed the bulging sack of letters with a mixture of amusement and trepidation. He had not anticipated this particular consequence of being named the Windblume Star.

In his experience, such public displays of affection were usually reserved for the stage, not the recipient's private quarters.

Heins held up a hand, forestalling the bartender's enthusiasm. "Let's not be too hasty," he said, glancing at Jean's sullen expression. "While I appreciate the sentiment behind them, I hardly think burning them is necessary."

Jean crossed her arms, her brow furrowed. "You don't know what's in them," she muttered, but made no move to stop the bartender from emptying the sack.

Heins sighed, reaching into the bag and pulling out a handful of letters. He flipped through them, skimming the contents.

They were indeed love letters, written in a variety of styles and levels of desperation. Some were poetic and flowery, others blunt and to the point. A few were even drawn in the style of paintings, with crude sketches of himself prominently featured.

"They seem to be from admirers who took the Windblume Festival as an opportunity to confess their feelings," Heins remarked, setting the letters down on the table. "Apparently, it's a tradition."

Jean snorted derisively. "Great. Just what we need. More people falling over themselves to throw themselves at you."

Heins raised an eyebrow at Jean's tone. "Is there a problem, Jean?" he asked, studying her face for clues. "You seem to be in a particularly foul mood today."

Jean looked away, her cheeks flushing slightly. "No, it's nothing," she said, but her voice lacked conviction. "It's just... stupid. All of this fuss over someone who doesn't even care about them."

Heins sat and leaned back in his chair, considering Jean's words. Perhaps she had a point. He had never been one for grand gestures or public displays of affection.

The idea of being the object of so much unwanted attention sat uneasily with him.

"But Jean," he said softly, "even if I don't return their affections, it doesn't diminish the sincerity of their feelings. And who are we to judge how they choose to express them?"

Jean was silent for a moment, then shrugged. "I suppose that's true," she admitted grudgingly. "It's just... hard to watch sometimes. Seeing you get caught up in all this nonsense."

Heins reached out and squeezed Jean's shoulder gently. "I'm not going anywhere," he assured her. "You don't need to worry about me getting swept away by a bunch of lovestruck fools."

Jean looked at him then, her blue eyes searching his face. "Promise?" she asked quietly.

Heins met her gaze steadily. "Promise," he confirmed.

Her face softened at that, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Good," she said, before turning to glare at the stack of letters. "Still think we should burn them though."

Heins chuckled, shaking his head. "Let's not be so drastic," he said, pushing the letters aside. "We can find a better use for them than that."

Jean raised an eyebrow. "Like what?" she asked skeptically.

Heins tapped his chin, considering. "Well, we could use them as fuel for the fireplace," he suggested, grinning wickedly.

"Or maybe we could start a bonfire in the square and have everyone toss theirs in. Make it a new Windblume Festival tradition."

Jean rolled her eyes, but couldn't quite suppress a smile. "You're terrible," she said, but there was no heat behind the words.

Heins just laughed, leaning back in his chair and propping his feet up on the table. "Guilty as charged," he agreed. "But hey, it beats burning them, right?"

Jean shook her head, but sat down across from him, her earlier foul mood seeming to lift. "I guess," she admitted. "Just... don't let it go to your head, okay? Can't have my Master, you know..."

Heins smiled at that, feeling a warmth spread through him that had nothing to do with the festival or the letters. "Wouldn't have it any other way," he said softly.

And with that, the two of them settled in to sort through the mountain of correspondence, their easy camaraderie a comforting counterpoint to the chaotic celebrations outside.

Meanwhile, in Springvale, A peaceful and idyllic suburban town near Mondstadt, young men were hunting the foxes just to strap wreaths of flowers on top of them and let them free once again. It had become a tradition in Springvale when the Windblume Festival came as a form of affection for the one they cherished.

Among them stood Diluc and Kaeya, who watched the phenomenon with amusement, not intending to partake in the tradition.

Diluc smirked, "Well then, do you have someone you want to confess to?"

Kaeya just laughed, "I'm not like Fool who often surrounded himself with girls. I am a true man. Besides, I'm still twelve, why care about spouses."

Diluc nodded, "Very true indeed. But what's up with Eula?"

They moved their gaze to the side where Eula was furiously catching the foxes and stabbed a sharp needle that had a blue flower tied to it before letting them go.

She did it not to one, two, or three, but dozens of foxes! Every time a fox caught her sight, they would hear a painful yelp from the fox. Even young hunters retreated when they saw her.

"She's scary indeed," Kaeya nodded as he subconsciously took a step back. Diluc nodded calmly, taking a dozen of step backs.

They watched Eula's intense hunting with a mix of awe and trepidation. Her single-minded focus and ruthless efficiency were impressive, if not a touch frightening.

Turning to Kaeya, Diluc raised an eyebrow. "Hmm, indeed," he agreed, echoing Kaeya's sentiment. "I've never seen her so... intense about anything before."

Kaeya nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, she's like a woman possessed out there. Those foxes don't stand a chance against her."

Diluc chuckled softly. "Reminds me a bit of someone else I know," he mused, glancing sidelong at Kaeya.

Kaeya caught the look and rolled his eyes. "Oh, here we go again with the 'you should get em' lecture," he groaned. "Look, I'm not Fool. I don't need a gaggle of girls fawning all over me to feel like a real man."

Diluc held up his hands in mock surrender. "Hey, I'm not trying to lecture you. I'm just saying, there's no shame in having feelings. Even for a 'true man' like yourself."

Kaeya snorted. "Feelings are for saps. I'm not about to go chasing after some girl just because it's festival time."

"Suit yourself," Diluc said, shrugging. "But don't come crying to me when you're the last one left alone and lonely in your old age."

"Ha!" Kaeya scoffed. "I'll be just fine, thanks. I've got my winery and my art. That's all I need. I'm still twelve for god's sake! You're also still a kid! Merely a year or two older than me."

Diluc just shook his head, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Keep telling yourself that. But mark my words, one day you'll meet someone who makes you question everything. And it'll hit you like a freight train. As for me... Well, maybe you're right. But still!"

Kaeya opened his mouth to retort, but closed it again, his gaze snagging on a funny figure across the square. He blinked, then did a double take. "Well, well, well... Looks like the star of the show has arrived."

Diluc followed his gaze, spotting a man and a woman emerging from the tavern of Springvale. The man looked a bit harried and hilariously naked except for his shorts, with a stack of his clothes tucked under his arm. The woman, on the other hand, seemed to be in a foul mood, her brows furrowed and her steps sharp.

"He looks like he's been through the wringer," Diluc commented, a smirk tugging at his lips.

Kaeya nodded, a grin spreading across his own face. "Guess the Windblume Festival is taking its toll on the poor guy. Maybe he should've thought twice before agreeing to be the representative of that."

Diluc chuckled, shaking his head. "Poor guy. I don't pity him one bit. But hey, it's all part of the experience, right?"

Kaeya shrugged. "I guess. I just want a quiet night in the vineyard over all this chaos any day."

Diluc clapped him on the shoulder, a rueful smile on his face. "That's the spirit. Stick to what you know best. And leave the festival madness to the likes of Fool and his gaggle of admirers."

Kaeya laughed, nodding in agreement. "Sounds like a plan to me. Now, what do you say we get out of here and go grab a drink somewhere quieter? I'm suddenly craving a nice glass of wine and some peace and quiet."

"Now you're speaking my language," Diluc agreed, already starting to turn towards the tavern. "Let's go. Leave the Windblume Festival to the young and foolish."

With that, the two boys set off towards the tavern, leaving the chaos of the festival and the spectacle of Eula's fox hunt behind them.

They had no need for the frivolities of the festival, content in their own company and the promise of a quiet drink together.

An: I gave a huge hint about Heins by that. And about the flowers, I made them up. It's too bad.