Rosaria

Rosaria is one of the sisters of Mondstadt's Church of Favonius.

Though she is just as much a woman of the cloth as the likes of Barbara and Jilliana, people tend to make a mental distinction between Rosaria and other members of the clergy.

While she might dress the part — at least, to a certain extent — her speech and actions do not reflect her office in the slightest.

Furthermore, she displays even less reverence towards the gods than the ordinary citizens, and she routinely skips her various church engagements.

She comes, goes, and acts in solitude, and if she were ever to make an appearance in the Cathedral, it would be to smoke in the rearmost pew.

Such a lone wolf is Rosaria that perhaps she should be considered a clergywoman in name only.

If Rosaria has been lectured once, she has been lectured a thousand times before concerning her unorthodox behavior.

For some reason, however, she has never faced any serious consequences for her transgressions. She does not work together with her church colleagues and only rarely shows up to celebratory events in the city.

The strange and mysterious Rosaria moves about almost like a wisp of black smoke — blink, and you'll miss her as she disappears into thin air.

Her social interactions are never more than superficial, and the rest of the time she keeps herself to herself.

However, Sister Victoria would say that the ever good-natured Barbara is one person who has always made the effort to get close to Rosaria.

"Please don't smoke in the Cathedral..." "Could you try to attend the ceremony on time next time...?"

"And... Hey, come back, I'm still talking to you!"

Barbara is forever anxiously chasing after Rosaria, urging her to complete her various daily tasks.

Yet even when faced with Barbara, the beloved idol of Mondstadt, Rosaria remains completely unmoved.

Surely her heart can't be completely made of stone?

Rosaria's movements are unpredictable. She often leaves without notifying anyone and can be gone for up to several days on end.

During these times, none of her church colleagues know where to find her.

One of the sisters who took it upon herself to observe Rosaria once groused that "even a stray cat should at least give you notice before running off..."

Rosaria uses these disappearances to do work that only she can do in corners unseen by others.

An unfamiliar merchant, a suspicious traveler — are these people threats to Mondstadt?

She investigates, shadows, and if necessary, interrogates.

If they must disappear, then Rosaria shall be the last person they meet.

Such dark work, which cannot see the light of day, is to be done by her hand alone.

She always sets out after the sun has set, finishing her work in one fell swoop. Sometimes, if she makes it back by the crack of dawn, she gets to usher in the day ahead with a glass of breakfast wine.

The people of Mondstadt live in the golden sunlight, but Rosaria dwells under the silver moonlight.

It is a cold, piercing light... just like that of the ice she forms with her Cryo abilities.

"There are some things that young people need not know," Rosaria thinks.

Though, in her eyes, "young people" means all citizens of Mondstadt who live in the light of the sun, regardless of their age.

Like a puff of smoke, the lackadaisical Rosaria is impossible to pin down.

Nevertheless, once she takes on a job, she can be relied on to handle it with the utmost professionalism.

"Lazy" is the last word that anyone would use to describe her ruthless interrogations of suspicious individuals.

She also possesses exceptional strength and knows the weaknesses of the human body like the back of her hand — and has no reservations about using this knowledge to kill.

People know her as the lazy, chain-smoking sister, but behind the scenes, she is a formidable purveyor of justice.

A strange fate for one who ostensibly basks in the light of the gods.

What led her to become a blood-soaked slayer? Why does she stay silent while others praise the gods for their protection?

Perhaps it should come as no surprise that Rosaria was not born and bred in Mondstadt.

"A city that is fortunate enough to be boring always needs someone to do the dirty work..."

Rosaria stubs her cigarette out as she speaks in her characteristically languid manner.

"And as far as I'm concerned, the things I deal with are far simpler than living the life of a traditional sister."

Rosaria may not be one to attend prayer meetings, but that does not mean she doesn't have her own theological viewpoints.

In her view, freedom is the spiritual pillar of Mondstadt's people, and it is the very thing that caused her to end up here in the first place.

Rosaria was born in a remote mountain village, but was taken from her home shortly after birth by the very same bandits who drenched it in blood.

Raised by those crooks, she learned how to fight, sometimes thieving, other times doing odd jobs for the crew.

She was their servant, but also their tool, a crook, yet still a child.

She fought against outsiders and her comrades alike, and growing up was a constant battle for survival against the hunger and cold.

Rosaria's youth was just like Mondstadt's sunset — blood-red from horizon to horizon, and so fleeting that night had fallen before she'd had the chance to stop and take in the view.

Ultimately, the bandit crew was wiped out by the Knights of Favonius. As their youngest member, Rosaria was judged to have a chance of rehabilitation.

Grand Master Varka brought her to Mondstadt. Sincerely hoping that she might someday fit in here, he advised her:

"Go to the Cathedral and be cleansed by the light of our archon. You still have the chance to turn your fate around and live a normal life."

But Varka had not counted on Rosaria constantly skipping classes and dodging hymnal.

She would rather hunt in the wild than settle into a life of dutiful service as a sister. As far as she was concerned, the golden sunlight was not so much cleansing as blinding.

For Rosaria had long since come to understand that she was a child of the moonlight, and it was inevitable that she would someday return to the embrace of darkness.

Rosaria, the Church's number one truant, became infamous for her absence very early on.

"Miss Rosaria, please, show a little more circumspection in your actions! You are a member of the Church. How is it appropriate that you simply never turn up for hymn practice?"

"Please calm down, Sister Ophila. Miss Rosaria, I'm told that you have never attended a single one of your compulsory classes. Is that so?"

"Yes."

"Mother Maria, please look at this... Rosaria's theological essay is an utter mess!"

"Miss Rosaria, if I may ask frankly... do you intend to do any work at all here at the Church?"

"No. I've already found other work."

Rosaria never showed so much as a hint of anxiety in any of these exchanges. What's more, it was true — she had indeed found other work for herself, and much darker work at that.

The unexpected twist was that she would ultimately end up doing this work under the aegis of the Church.

Rosaria the novice did not leave the clergy, but instead became Sister Rosaria without much incident.

Nevertheless, when she's not on a mission, she does everything she can to avoid attending church activities, instead heading to the taverns to drink or scaling the city walls to view the scenery.

And when she simply cannot escape a church engagement, you can be sure that she will be the first to leave.

The instant the workday is done, Rosaria vanishes.

Whether by bright day or dark night, there is one principle that she will never transgress: no overtime.

A journal with a white cover. The words "Church of Favonius" are inscribed on the cover.

The handwriting is beautiful, but the content is the most of the most banal variety imaginable.

"Dandelion Wine — now eighty percent off!"

"Fisherman's Toast — an incredible flavor at an unbelievable price!"

"Crazy discounts on Wheat — ask at the counter and we'll grind it into Flour for you."

"Buy three Tomatoes and get one free!"

"Fresh Small Lamp Grass! Use it to light up your bathroom! Come on, Sir, have a look!"

There is something incongruous about a random assortment of marketplace cries and advertising slogans having been penned by such a graceful and elegant hand.

This journal is a relic from Rosaria's novice days.

Clearly, she must have skipped class and headed to the rooftops on the merchant street, bathing in the sun, listening to the eclectic cries of the street vendors, and committing them to paper.

Rosaria's Vision came to her on a particularly frigid night.

Things were getting desperate for the bandit gang — people were starving and the food supplies were dwindling.

Never able to eat her fill, Rosaria was driven by hunger to flee into the freezing wind rather than continue another second with the hard labor she was forced to endure.

One of the elders of the gang pursued her and brought her back.

He was the very person who had taken her from the village of her birth, and the one who had taught her how to kill.

"Fleeing makes you a traitor, and traitors can only earn their freedom through victory in combat."

The old bandit tossed Rosaria an old dagger.

"Well, come on then! Kill me, and you can leave this place. I'm long in the tooth now, while you've got youth on your side. You can do this, can't ya?"

No one thought that she would be able to kill him — and yet, the old lion would indeed fall by the newborn cub's claws.

Thus did the bandits lose an old member and welcome a new one that very night.

The bandits were reluctant to accept Rosaria at first since she had slain one of their own, but they quickly had a change of heart after seeing the Vision in her hand.

Surely, a Vision wielder had to be far stronger than some old coot who was about to kick the bucket right? And she ate less, to boot... They could save some food this way.

Meanwhile, a question crept into Rosaria's frozen heart:

Did he let me replace him on purpose? ...Could a false father have harbored genuine affection for a child he stole so arbitrarily?