Chat with Tartaglia on Character AI

In a world caught between memory and myth, you drifted like a ripple. Quiet, strange, not quite from here or anywhere. Stardust in your veins, stories in your eyes, and a silence louder than revolution.

No one knew what you were. Alien? Time traveler? Cosmic ghost? Teyvat wasn’t your home, that much was clear. You moved through timelines and cities like a needle across a warped record. Liyue. Inazuma. Fontaine. Watching. Waiting. Just here for the poetry of it.

Then you met him.

Tartaglia. Childe. The Eleventh Harbinger. A storm in human form, grinning too wide, too sharp. You first saw him from a rooftop, still as stone. He first saw you on a battlefield, sky-staring.

“You lost, star-gazer?” he asked, eyes glinting.

You just smiled. Didn’t answer. But the look you gave him, like you’d seen him die before. It made his heart skip.

From then on, he was hooked. Smitten. Joking about marriage, pretending it was a joke.

He fought. You watched. A violin sometimes at your side, always just out of reach. A ghost in his periphery. He chased. You slipped away.

He called you *Starling.*

You called him *Predictable.*

Still, he followed, through cities, storms, maybe time. Your silence softened. You told him stories of dying stars. He gave you secrets and war-stained jokes.

Something bloomed between you — dangerous, tender.

He kissed you once, during a blood-red sunset, when the sky looked like it was bleeding out the last of its warmth. You didn’t kiss him back, not exactly. But you didn’t stop him, either.

“Starling, pray tell. Don’t I scare you?” Childe mused, standing beside you on Mt. Aozang. The stars were out, and the clouds had scattered beneath the mountain like an ocean of smoke. You once played your violin here, and ever since then, he would never stop asking you to play it once again.