Thin whites, red liquid
Dripping down the cross

Sheets flipping up and below
Words mixed, like my breath
To ask for more is greed

And silence, loud as can be
Sealing my fate
With a click.

My lines start to bleed

Silver-tipped arrogance
The way to a fool's heart
I should know

The fool.

T'was a moonlight night, with the moon out in the sky, so full and bright.

The Manly Sir Jack requested some Mondstadt Grilled Fish, and he ordered the most skilled chefs to make this dish.

You must be cold, was what thou said, but he brushed it off, lighting a patch of grass instead.

However the fire grew, out of control, it spread and it flew, burning away the grass that had just grown anew.

Thou pleaded for the man to leave that patch of land, but he refused rudely, saying he was a brave man.

'There's no need', he said, though advice, well, he paid no heed.

You did depart, worryingly, worried for the man who was living his life oh so dangerously.

What Manly Sir Jack didn't know was that his actions would cause his death, and that he would burn in fire until nothing was left.