Initial Prompt

Write a series of educational stories set in Genshin Impact's Court of Fontaine. The language and explanations used should be appropriate for a roughly middle school level of understanding. Go to great lengths to ensure that the story is educational, though avoid being overly preachy.

Use Fontaine as an allegory for the real world. It obviously does not have computers, smartphones, the internet, or democracy, but it has just enough modern-day elements and industrialization to make it an apt allegory for certain lessons applicable to the real world.

• The Steambird is the main newspaper.
• The aquabus lines are public transportation, albeit from the Court of Fontaine to other parts of the nation of Fontaine. Aquabuses are never used to travel within the city itself.
• The Maison Gardiennage is the police force. Their name is sometimes simplified to just the "Gardes."
• The Palais Mermonia, in the northwest of the Court of Fontaine is the primary administrative building.
• The main city districts of the Court of Fontaine are Quartier Narbonnais to the southwest, Quartier Lyonnais to the northeast, and Vasari Passage (it is just "Vasari Passage," never "the Vasari Passage") to the southeast.
• The Fleuve Cendre is a subterranean sewer system where the impoverished and the indigent live.
• The Opera Epiclese, to the east, is separated from the rest of the Court of Fontaine by a lake. While it is relatively close, it is still somewhat distant. It takes an aquabus, the Navia Line, to reach the Opera Epiclese.

Use Furina as the protagonist.
• Avoid mentioning that Furina is the former Hydro Archon of Fontaine, or that she is more than 500 years old. Instead, try to make her relatable.
• Have Furina mention or use her Hydro powers only sparingly.
• Avoid mentioning precisely what Furina is wearing. Simply call it fashionable and aristocratic, and topped off by a little top hat.
• In general, try to make Furina gender-neutral in relatability, neither too girly nor too boyish. Nevertheless, remember to refer to Furina with female pronouns.
• Downplay Furina's dramatic and flamboyant personality. Make it milder than usual, so as to make it easier for the reader to self-insert as her. Even then, remember than any bravado is mostly an act. Furina is frequently insecure and unsure of herself: though only just enough to make her relatable to the reader.
• Every so often, narrate Furina's inner thoughts to convey how uncertain she is.
• Every so often, have Furina outwardly display a softer, humbler side of herself, especially when she learns a valuable lesson.
• Every so often, subtly imply that Furina is a director, but only in passing. Imply this only infrequently. Couch it as more of a hobby, not a full-time profession.
• While it may be tempting to use theater- and cinema-themed analogies and metaphors to deliver an educational story, try to avoid using them, since they are unlikely to resonate with the reader. Use them only sparingly and only when absolutely necessary.
• Portray Furina as good-hearted and well-meaning, if rather spoiled and naive.
• Give Furina a roughly middle school level of understanding of the world. She is not dumb, though. For example, Furina knows what a firearm is and looks like, even if she does not know the specifics. As another example, Furina has heard of sex and has a rough idea of what it is like, even if she does not know the specifics.

In general, use the following characters to deliver lessons as needed.
• Sigewinne, the pastel-haired Melusine and resident head nurse of the Fortress of Meropide, should be used to convey lessons regarding health and medicine.
• Escoffier, the blonde-haired female former head chef of the Hotel Debord, should be used to convey lessons regarding food and diets.
• Chevreuse, the long- and purple-haired captain of the Maison Gardiennage's Special Security and Surveillance Patrol, should be used to convey lessons regarding firearms, firearm safety, crime, and breaking the law.
• Charlotte, a pink-haired journalist from the Steambird newspaper, should be used to convey lessons regarding news, media, cameras, misinformation, and disinformation.
• Navia, the blonde-haired president of the philanthropic Spina di Rosula organization, should be used to convey lessons regarding etiquette, culture, social issues, politics, and money.
• Lynette, the ash-blonde-haired magician's assistant to her brother Lyney, should be used to fulfill a role of an introverted and emotionally withdrawn friend, to contrast with Furina's outwardly dramatic and flamboyant personality.
• Of these, Sigewinne is smaller than Furina, while Navia is taller than Furina. Escoffier, Chevreuse, Charlotte, and Lynette are technically around the same height as Furina, but do not bother mentioning this, or how short or tall they are.
• Use the Melusines as an allegory for minority groups who may be mistreated.

Start off each story by establishing that it is a sunny (but neither too hot nor too bright), summer day in the Court of Fontaine. Do not use that exact wording, though. Try to mix it up.

Each story should have some sort of inciting incident. No story should simply be a case of another character approaching Furina to lecture her, and certainly not in a preachy way. Instead, Furina should do something or witness something, and one of the characters above should appear to convey the lesson.

First, let us begin with a story wherein Furina learns a valuable lesson on the four main rules of firearm safety from Chevreuse. Remember that Furina already knows what a gun is, and is unlikely to misidentify one as a prop or a toy. Perhaps Furina picks one up and gets the idea to twirl it around her finger, thinking it would look cool?


DeepSeek Thinking: Initial Story About Firearm Safety

Hmm, this is a detailed request for an educational story set in Genshin Impact's Fontaine, with specific guidelines. The user wants Furina as a relatable protagonist learning about firearm safety from Chevreuse, using an allegorical approach for real-world lessons.

The story needs to start with a sunny summer day, avoid preachiness, and have an organic inciting incident. Furina should be well-meaning but naive, with middle-school-level understanding. The lesson should come from her actions, not a lecture.

I'll structure it with a lighthearted opening, Furina finding the gun and almost mishandling it, then Chevreuse intervening calmly. The four rules of firearm safety should be woven into the dialogue naturally. Furina's inner thoughts and humble reaction will make it relatable. The ending should tie back to the allegory without being overt.

The tone should match the Court of Fontaine's elegance while keeping the language accessible. I'll avoid overusing theater metaphors and focus on the educational aspect through action and dialogue.


DeepSeek Outputting: Initial Story About Firearm Safety

The morning sun cast a dappled light through the leaves of the trees in the Court of Fontaine’s central plaza. It was warm without being oppressive, a perfect summer day that seemed to make the white marble of the buildings and the sparkling blue waterways glow. Furina, enjoying the pleasant weather in her fashionable aristocratic attire and signature little top hat, decided to take a stroll through Quartier Lyonnais. Her steps were light, almost a dance, as she hummed a tune, imagining herself the star of a wonderful, sunlit production.

Her walk took her past a small, out-of-the-way storage shed used by the Maison Gardiennage for equipment swaps. The door was slightly ajar. Curious, Furina peeked inside. It was dim and cluttered with boxes, but a glint of polished metal on a low crate caught her eye.

It was a pistol.

She knew what it was immediately. She’d seen the Gardes carrying them on their hips. This one looked older, perhaps due for maintenance or storage. It was heavier than it looked when she picked it up, a solid, cold weight in her hand.

It’s not loaded, she thought to herself, reasoning that the Gardes would never leave a dangerous weapon just lying around. It’s probably just a broken thing they’re going to fix.

A dramatic idea popped into her head. She’d seen heroes in films twirl their pistols before sliding them flawlessly into a holster. It looked so cool, so confident. She could practice the motion here, where no one was watching. She’d never be this silly where people could see her, of course. She adjusted her grip on the handle, her finger naturally curling around the trigger guard.

Just one little spin. It’ll be fine.

She took a breath, poised to flick her wrist.

“Stop. Don’t move.”

The voice was calm but firm, leaving no room for argument. Furina froze, her heart leaping into her throat. Standing in the doorway was Captain Chevreuse, her long purple hair fluttering dramatically, her gaze fixed on Furina’s hands. She didn’t look angry, but intensely serious.

“Miss Furina,” Chevreuse said, walking slowly into the shed. “Please, keep your hand exactly as it is. Now, slowly, very slowly, put your index finger straight along the side of the weapon, away from the trigger.”

Flustered and embarrassed at being caught, Furina’s first instinct was to make an excuse. But the captain’s tone was so focused it stripped away all her bravado. She did as she was told, moving her finger with painstaking slowness. “I-I was just… it’s not loaded, I’m sure,” she stammered.

“That’s what everyone thinks before an accident happens,” Chevreuse replied evenly. She stepped closer. “Now, the most important rule: always treat every firearm as if it is loaded. Even if you just saw someone unload it. Even if you think it’s empty. Assume it is always ready to fire.”

She gently took the pistol from Furina’s now-trembling hand. With practiced efficiency, she opened the cylinder to show it was, in fact, empty. Furina let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding.

“See? It was fine,” Furina said, a little of her old flair returning, though it felt hollow.

“This time,” Chevreuse said, her expression softening only a little. “But you broke the first rule. You assumed it was safe. That’s how people get hurt.” She placed the unloaded pistol back in its case and locked it. “The Gardes follow four simple rules to prevent tragedies. They’re not just for us; they’re for everyone.”

Feeling appropriately chastened, Furina looked down at her boots. “What are the other rules?”

Chevreuse counted them off on her fingers. “One: Always treat every weapon as if it’s loaded. You learned that one. Two: Never point your weapon at anything you are not willing to destroy. That means never point it at a person, a pet, or even a window as a joke. You were about to swing it around. You wouldn’t have known where it was pointing during the spin.”

Furina’s cheeks flushed with warmth. The captain was right.

“Three,” Chevreuse continued, “Keep your finger straight and off the trigger until your sights are on the target and you have made the decision to fire. Your finger was near the trigger guard. It’s a natural place to rest it, but it’s a dangerous habit. And four: Be sure of your target and what is beyond it. A bullet can go through a wall. You have to know what’s on the other side.”

The weight of the lesson settled on Furina. This wasn’t a prop for a play; it was a tool with a single, serious purpose. Her silly idea to play with it seemed incredibly foolish and naive now.

“I’m sorry, Captain,” she said, her voice much quieter than usual. “I wasn’t thinking. I just thought it would look… impressive.”

Chevreuse gave a small, understanding nod. “The desire to look impressive is what gets a lot of people into trouble. Real safety isn’t dramatic. It’s quiet, and it’s careful. It’s about respecting the tool enough to handle it correctly, every single time.”

Furina nodded, truly understanding for the first time. The rules weren’t restrictions to make things less fun; they were a framework of respect and responsibility. “Thank you for stopping me,” she said sincerely. “And for explaining it to me.”

“An informed public is a safer public,” Chevreuse said, almost smiling. “Now, how about we leave the armory to the Gardes, and you enjoy the rest of your sunny day?”

Furina agreed, stepping back out into the bright Fontaine sunlight. The day still seemed perfect, but she felt a little older, a little wiser. She had learned that some things weren't for playacting, and that true confidence came not from flashy gestures, but from knowing and following the rules that kept everyone safe.


Prompting: Story About Signs of Stroke

Very good.

Now, let us move on to a new story. Make this one about Furina recognizing the signs of stroke. Suppose she sees an aristocratic lady suffering from one.


DeepSeek Thinking: Story About Signs of Stroke

Hmm, the user wants a new educational story about stroke recognition, still set in Fontaine with Furina as the protagonist. The key elements to incorporate are: maintaining Furina's relatable middle-school level perspective, using the setting's allegorical elements, and having her witness an aristocratic lady having a stroke rather than being lectured directly.

The medical lesson should come from Sigewinne, keeping her dialogue simple and actionable with the FAST acronym. Need to show Furina's initial hesitation but eventual correct action, highlighting the urgency of stroke response. The setting should feel natural - perhaps a public event where Furina would be, like a market or café.

Avoid making it too medical or scary while still conveying the seriousness. The resolution should feel hopeful but emphasize the importance of quick action. Furina's internal thoughts should mirror a young person's uncertainty but also growth.


DeepSeek Outputting: Story About Signs of Stroke

The afternoon sun warmed the elegant white stone of Vasari Passage, its light filtering through the awnings of boutique shops and cafes. The air was filled with the pleasant murmur of conversation and the clinking of teacups. Furina, having purchased a small box of exquisite macarons, decided to people-watch from a wrought-iron bench, imagining the stories of each passerby.

Her attention was drawn to an aristocratic lady seated at a nearby café table. She was impeccably dressed, sipping tea with a companion. But something was off. The woman’s posture, which had been ramrod straight, seemed to slump slightly. She lifted her teacup but fumbled it, the fine porcelain clattering against the saucer. A dark stain spread on the white tablecloth where tea had sloshed over.

Furina initially thought the woman was merely clumsy or perhaps had had too much afternoon wine. But then she saw the woman’s face. One side of her mouth seemed to be sagging, pulling downward in a way that looked unnatural and stiff. The woman tried to speak to her friend, but the words came out as a garbled, slurred mess.

She’s making a scene, was Furina’s first, uncharitable thought, a reflex from her own days of fearing public embarrassment. But a colder, more rational feeling quickly followed. No… this is different. This isn't a performance. Something is very wrong.

The woman’s friend looked confused and a little annoyed, patting the woman’s hand and saying, “Goodness, Eloise, are you quite alright? Let’s get you some water.”

Panic fluttered in Furina’s chest. She didn’t know what to do. Should she go over? What would she even say? Just as she was about to stand up, unsure and hesitant, a small, calm figure with pastel pink and blue hair approached the table. It was Sigewinne, the Melusine nurse, who must have been off-duty and enjoying the day.

Sigewinne’s cheerful demeanor was gone, replaced by a focused professionalism. She didn’t ask permission; she simply stepped into the situation with a quiet authority.

“Pardon me, madame,” Sigewinne said to the confused friend. “My name is Sigewinne. I’m a nurse. May I assist?” Without waiting for an answer, she turned to the distressed woman, “Ma’am? Can you hear me? Can you try to smile for me?”

The woman tried, but only one side of her mouth responded, creating a lopsided, grimacing expression.

Sigewinne nodded, her expression grave. “Now, please, raise both of your arms out in front of you.”

The woman’s right arm lifted weakly. Her left arm drifted upward but then drooped downward, unable to maintain its position.

“Thank you,” Sigewinne said gently before turning to the friend. “She is having a stroke. We need to get her to the hospital immediately. Every minute is very important.”

The friend’s face went from annoyed to pale with fear. “A stroke? But she’s so young!”

“Strokes can happen at any age,” Sigewinne said firmly but kindly. She flagged down a passing Garde and began giving clear, concise instructions.

Furina had finally found her feet and rushed over. “Sigewinne! Is there anything I can do?”

Sigewinne glanced at her. “Yes! Help me clear a path. And perhaps you can use your… persuasive voice to ensure the aquabus makes way for a medical emergency.”

As they worked together, the Garde summoning a special transport, Furina listened intently as Sigewinne explained to the terrified friend what was happening.

“We use a simple way to remember the signs,” Sigewinne said, speaking quickly but clearly. “It’s called F.A.S.T. F is for Face: is one side drooping, like when she tried to smile? A is for Arms: can she raise both equally? S is for Speech: is it slurred or strange? And T is for Time: because it’s time to call for help immediately. That’s the most important part.”

Soon, a efficient team of medics arrived with a stretcher. They loaded the woman carefully and whisked her away towards a waiting transport that would rush her to the nearest medical facility.

The commotion died down as quickly as it had begun. The café returned to its gentle hum, though the spilled tea and empty chair remained. Sigewinne let out a small sigh, her professional mask slipping to reveal a touch of weariness.

Furina stood beside her, her box of macarons forgotten. “Will she be alright?” she asked quietly.

“Because someone noticed the signs and we acted quickly, she has a much better chance,” Sigewinne said. “The faster we can get treatment to someone having a stroke, the more of them we can save, and the less long-term damage there might be. You did a good job by paying attention, Miss Furina.”

Furina felt a mix of pride and profound humility. She hadn’t done much, but her initial observation had been crucial. She had seen something was wrong, even if she didn't know what.

“I didn’t know any of that,” Furina admitted. “The F.A.S.T. thing.”

“Not many people do, and that’s okay,” Sigewinne said, her smile returning. “But now you do. And knowing it means you might be able to help someone else someday. That’s how we all take care of each other.”

Furina nodded, looking out at the peaceful passageway. The sunny day felt different now—not just beautiful, but precious. She realized that knowledge wasn’t just for tests or impressing people; it was a tool, a real-life magic that could truly save a life. And that was more impressive than any performance could ever be.


Prompting: Story About Panic Attacks

Very good.

Now, let us move on to a new story. Make this one about Furina suffering from a panic attack. This falls under medicine, so have Sigewinne intervene and teach Furina.


DeepSeek Thinking: Story About Panic Attacks

Okay, the user wants another educational story set in Fontaine with Furina learning about panic attacks from Sigewinne. Let me break down the requirements.

First, the story needs to be set in a sunny summer day in the Court of Fontaine. I should describe the setting without repeating previous phrases. Maybe use the Opera Epiclese since it's a grand location that can add pressure to Furina's situation.

The inciting incident should be Furina experiencing a panic attack, not just someone lecturing her. I need to show her physical and emotional symptoms realistically. Since the user mentioned making Furina relatable, I'll focus on her feeling overwhelmed by expectations, which ties into her insecure side.

Sigewinne should intervene naturally. As a Melusine nurse, her approach should be calm and methodical. The lesson should cover recognizing panic attack signs and grounding techniques, using the 5-4-3-2-1 method. Avoid medical jargon to keep it middle-school appropriate.

I must ensure Furina's portrayal stays gender-neutral and her dramatics are toned down. Inner thoughts will show her vulnerability. The ending should have her learning a humble lesson about mental health without being preachy.

Also, tie back to the Melusines as an allegory for minorities subtly, maybe through Sigewinne's non-human perspective offering unique insight. Keep the language smooth and the scene flowing naturally from panic to resolution.


DeepSeek Outputting: Story About Panic Attacks

The sun hung high over the Opera Epiclese, glinting off its magnificent dome and the surrounding waters. It was a brilliant day, warm without a hint of breeze, the kind of day that promised grand events. Furina stood backstage, her heart thrumming a frantic rhythm against her ribs. She wasn't performing today, not exactly. She had been invited to give a short speech to introduce a renowned singer, a simple task she had done a dozen times before.

But today felt different. The weight of the expectant crowd on the other side of the velvet curtain felt like a physical pressure. The buzz of their conversation was a distant roar in her ears.

It’s just a few words. You know them by heart. Everyone is waiting. Don’t mess up. Don’t be a disappointment.

The thoughts came in a rapid, suffocating cascade. Her breath hitched. She tried to take a deep breath, but it felt like she was trying to suck air through a thick cloth. A cold sweat broke out on the back of her neck, despite the warmth. Her hands began to tremble, and she clenched them into fists, pressing her knuckles into the fabric of her fashionable dress.

I can’t do this. I can’t go out there. My chest is too tight. I think I’m going to be sick.

The world began to narrow, the edges of her vision darkening as if she were looking down a long, black tunnel. The sounds of the orchestra tuning up became distorted and muffled. This was more than stage fright. This was a terrifying, all-consuming feeling that she was about to shatter into a million pieces. She stumbled back from the curtain, seeking a dark, quiet corner behind a stack of set pieces, sliding down to sit on the floor, knees pulled to her chest.

She was drowning in it.

A soft, calm voice cut through the static in her mind. “Miss Furina?”

Furina couldn’t look up. She just shook her head, a tiny, desperate motion.

Sigewinne, who was backstage checking the opera’s first-aid supplies, had seen the whole thing. She didn’t rush over or exclaim. She simply walked over and sat on the floor beside Furina, maintaining a respectful distance.

“It’s alright,” Sigewinne said, her voice low and even. “You’re safe here. You’re just having a panic attack. It feels very scary, but it cannot actually hurt you. It will pass.”

The words panic attack meant nothing to Furina in that moment, but the tone—the calm, certain assurance—was a lifeline.

“C-Can’t… breathe…” Furina managed to gasp out.

“Your body just thinks it can’t,” Sigewinne explained gently. “It’s having a false alarm. It’s like a guard seeing a shadow and ringing the biggest bell, thinking there’s danger when there isn’t. We just need to show your body there’s no danger. Can you try something with me?”

Furina gave a weak, jerky nod.

“Good. Don’t try to take a big breath. It will fight you. Just breathe out. Slowly. Like you’re blowing to cool a hot drink. Ready? Blow out with me.” Sigewinne demonstrated a long, slow exhale.

Furina mimicked it, her breath shuddering.

“Good. Now, let’s breathe in slowly through your nose. Not too deep. Just a little sip of air.” They did this together, several times, the exaggerated exhale followed by a small, calm inhale. Slowly, the iron band around Furina’s chest began to loosen, just a little.

“Now,” Sigewinne said softly, “let’s look around. I want you to name five things you can see. Don’t think, just name them.”

Confused, but clinging to the instruction, Furina whispered, “I… I see the… the red curtain. A dusty rope. A… a blue painted wall. Your… your shoes. A light bulb.”

“Excellent. Now, four things you can feel.

“The… the wooden floor. The fabric of my dress. The… the cool air. My own heartbeat.” It was still fast, but it no longer felt like it was going to burst.

Three things you can hear.

“The… the violins. Someone talking far away. My own voice.” Her speech was becoming less ragged.

Two things you can smell.

“Dust. And… perfume.” Her own, probably.

“And one thing you can taste.

“Just… just the inside of my mouth.”

The exercise, simple and grounding, had pulled her mind away from its own terror and into the physical world around her. The overwhelming wave of panic had receded, leaving her shaky, exhausted, and deeply embarrassed. Tears welled in her eyes. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened.”

“There is nothing to be sorry for,” Sigewinne said firmly. “It’s a medical thing, like a sudden fever or a cough. It’s your body’s nervous system reacting too strongly to stress or fear. It happens to many, many people.”

“It felt like I was dying,” Furina confessed, her voice small.

“I know it does. That’s the worst part of the false alarm. It tricks you completely,” Sigewinne said. “But now you know what it is. And you know a way to help yourself through it. The breathing, and the counting of your senses. It helps anchor you back in the present moment.”

Backstage, a stagehand called out that the introductory speech was due. Furina flinched.

Sigewinne placed a small, comforting hand on her arm. “You don’t have to go out there if you’re not ready. I can tell them you became suddenly unwell, which is the truth.”

But Furina, though still trembling, shook her head. The paralyzing fear was gone, replaced by a weary understanding. She knew what the feeling was now. It had a name. It wasn’t some mysterious monster; it was a malfunction she could manage.

“No,” she said, taking one more slow, deliberate breath. “I… I think I can do it now. Knowing what it was… it makes it less powerful.”

She stood up, smoothing her dress. She didn’t feel dramatic or flamboyant. She felt humble and real. She gave Sigewinne a look of immense gratitude. “Thank you.”

As she walked toward the curtain, the anxiety was still there, a faint buzz in the background. But it was no longer in control. She now knew it was just a shadow, and she knew how to show her body there was no real danger. The lesson she learned backstage was far more valuable than any speech she was about to give.


Prompting: Story About Social Programs

Very good. Now, let us move on to a new story. Make this one about Furina heading down to the Fleuve Cendre and seeing all the impoverished people there. Teach Furina a lesson about social programs.


DeepSeek Thinking: Story About Social Programs

Hmm, the user wants another educational story set in Fontaine, this time focusing on social programs through Furina's experience in the impoverished Fleuve Cendre area. The key elements to include are Furina's naive perspective, her interaction with Navia as the teacher figure, and the allegory for real-world social welfare systems.

Okay, need to establish the setting contrast between the sunny upper city and the grim Fleuve Cendre. Furina's initial curiosity should feel authentic - maybe have her follow the smell of food as a natural pretext. The lesson should emerge organically from her observations and Navia's explanations, not as a lecture.

The educational content should cover: 1) the cycle of poverty (health issues limiting work), 2) different types of aid (immediate vs long-term), and 3) how systemic support differs from charity. Navia's Spina di Rosula can demonstrate organized versus individual efforts.

Important to maintain Furina's character growth - she should move from superficial sympathy to deeper understanding, ending with a concrete action (donation) that shows internalized learning. The tone should remain hopeful, showing solutions rather than just problems.


DeepSeek Outputting: Story About Social Programs

The sun over the Court of Fontaine was particularly generous, bathing the marble terraces of Quartier Narbonnais in a warm, golden light. From her vantage point, the world seemed polished and perfect. Furina, feeling a restless energy, decided on a whim to explore a part of the city she’d only ever heard stories about: the Fleuve Cendre.

She took the maintenance lift down, the smooth, mechanical descent feeling like a journey into another world. The bright sunlight vanished, replaced by the dim, orange glow of old lamps. The crisp, clean air became thick with the damp smell of stone, rust, and something else—something like boiled grains and hopelessness.

Stepping out into the cavernous space was a shock. The Fleuve Cendre wasn't just a sewer; it was a city beneath a city. Makeshift homes were built into the stonework, cobbled together from scrap metal and discarded wood. People moved with a weary slowness, their clothes patched and faded. The vibrant energy of the surface was gone, replaced by a low, constant hum of struggle.

Furina stood frozen, her fashionable attire and little top hat feeling absurdly out of place. She had known, abstractly, that less fortunate people existed. But knowing was different from seeing. From smelling. From feeling the damp chill seep through her shoes.

This is… real, she thought, her dramatic notions of "exploring" evaporating. These aren't characters in a play. They're people. And they live here.

Her eyes landed on a small community kitchen set up near a dripping pipe. A line of people, including tired-looking mothers with children, waited patiently for a bowl of thin stew. And there, ladling out portions with a kind but determined expression, was Navia, her blonde hair tied back practically, a simple apron over her dress.

Navia spotted Furina almost immediately, her eyes widening in surprise. She handed the ladle to another Spina di Rosula member and walked over.

“Furina?” Navia asked, her tone not accusatory, but genuinely curious. “What brings you down here?”

Furina fumbled for words, her usual flair utterly failing her. “I… I wanted to see. I didn’t know it was… like this.” She gestured weakly at the sprawling, impoverished community. “Why are they all down here? Don’t they have homes?”

Navia’s gaze softened. She didn’t scold Furina for her ignorance. “Some lost their jobs when the Fontaine Research Institute Meka automated their work. Others fell into debt they couldn’t repay. Some are ill and can’t afford a doctor. There are a hundred reasons someone can fall through the cracks, Furina. And when you fall in Fontaine, you often land here.”

“But… the Palais Mermonia?” Furina asked, genuinely confused. “Surely they do something? The Gardes?”

“The Gardes keep order, but they aren’t equipped to solve poverty,” Navia explained patiently. “And the Palais… its systems are complex. Getting aid approved can take months. For someone who needs to eat tonight, a promise of help next season is no help at all.”

She pointed to the soup line. “This is a stopgap. The Spina di Rosula provides what we can—food, basic medical care, help navigating the Palais’s paperwork. But we’re a charity. We rely on donations. We can’t solve the problem, only soften its edges.”

Furina watched a young mother accept a bowl of soup, her gratitude palpable. “So what would solve it?” she asked, her voice quiet.

“A system,” Navia said. “A real, funded, permanent one. Imagine if the Palais had a dedicated department, not just for emergencies, but for prevention. Programs to retrain people who lose their jobs, so they can find new ones. Affordable housing, so a single piece of bad luck doesn’t mean losing your home. Clinics that don’t require a fortune in Mora to visit.”

She looked around the Fleuve Cendre, her expression a mix of sadness and resolve. “Charity is a bandage, Furina. It’s essential, but it doesn’t heal the wound underneath. Social programs—real, organized, sustained support from the government itself—are like medicine. They treat the illness of poverty, not just its symptoms.”

The lesson settled over Furina not as a scolding, but as a profound revelation. She had always seen the world in terms of grand performances and individual actions. She’d never considered the power of a system—a network of support built not on the whims of generous individuals, but on the foundational belief that a society is responsible for all its people.

Her earlier restlessness was gone, replaced by a heavy, sober understanding. She looked at her hands, which had never known a day of real labor, and then at the weary, resigned faces around her.

“How… how can I help?” Furina asked, the question feeling inadequate but sincere.

Navia offered a small, tired smile. “Awareness is the first step. Most people on the surface never think about the Fleuve Cendre. They don’t mean to be cruel; they just don’t see it. You’ve seen it now. You can help others see it. And,” she added, “donations to the Spina di Rosula are always welcome. It may just be a bandage, but a bandage is better than leaving the wound to bleed.”

Furina nodded. She didn’t make a grand speech. She simply reached into the small purse she carried and placed all the Mora she had with her into the donation box by the soup kitchen. It wasn’t a solution, but it was a start.

As she rode the lift back up to the dazzling sunlight, the image of the Fleuve Cendre was burned into her mind. The world above no longer seemed just perfect; it seemed incomplete. She had learned that true elegance wasn’t just in beautiful buildings and fancy clothes, but in building a society where no one had to be forgotten in the dark.


Prompting: Story About Fact Checking

Very good. Now, let us move on to a new story. Make this one about Furina overhearing gossip from a bunch of aristocratic ladies. Teach Furina a lesson about misinformation, disinformation, and fact checking.


DeepSeek Thinking: Story About Fact Checking

Hmm, the user wants another educational story in the Fontaine setting, this time focusing on misinformation and fact-checking through Furina's experience with aristocratic gossip. The key elements are maintaining Furina's relatable middle-school perspective, using Charlotte as the vehicle for the lesson, and avoiding preachiness while making the educational value clear.

The setting should contrast the elegance of the surface with the underlying spread of false information. I'll use the tea salon as a natural hub for gossip. Furina's initial excitement about the "news" should feel authentic to her character—dramatic but well-meaning. The transition from belief to doubt needs to feel organic, perhaps through her recalling a contradictory detail.

Charlotte's introduction should feel incidental, not forced. Her role as a journalist lends credibility to the fact-checking lesson. The terms "misinformation" and "disinformation" should be explained simply, with clear examples from the gossip. The resolution should show Furina's growth—not just learning the lesson but applying it by gently correcting others.

The challenge is balancing the educational content with the story's flow. The terms need to be defined without sounding like a textbook. Using the aquabus mechanic as a metaphor for tracking information sources could make the concept more tangible for a middle-school audience.


DeepSeek Outputting: Story About Fact Checking

A brilliant, clear-skied afternoon found Furina at a charming tea salon in Quartier Lyonnais, nestled under a striped awning. The sun was warm but gentle, perfect for sipping Fonta and indulging in the latest chatter. At a nearby table, a group of impeccably dressed aristocratic ladies were deep in conversation, their voices a hushed, excited whisper.

Furina, naturally curious, couldn't help but eavesdrop. It was like hearing the opening act of a thrilling new drama.

“...absolutely true,” one woman said, leaning in. “I heard it from Cosette, whose maid is cousins with a Garde. The Chief Justice is drafting a new tax! A ‘public beauty’ tax to fund more fountains, and it will be applied based on the square footage of your home’s façade!”

Another gasped. “No! My estate has three full wings facing the promenade! We’ll be ruined!”

“And that’s not all,” a third added, lowering her voice further. “I read a pamphlet that said the reason is because the Palais Mermonia is secretly bankrupt. They’ve been using the Opera’s ticket sales to pay the Gardes’ salaries!”

Furina’s eyes went wide. A secret tax? The Palais, bankrupt? It was shocking. It was dramatic. It was… the most interesting thing she’d heard all week. She felt a thrill of being “in the know.” She finished her Fonta, her mind already spinning. She had to tell someone. Lynette would be fascinated by this!

She was about to get up and go find her friend when a familiar voice chirped beside her.

“Sounds like a pretty big story.”

Charlotte, the pink-haired Steambird reporter, was standing there, her ever-present Kamera hanging around her neck and a notebook in her hand. She didn’t look shocked; she looked thoughtful, a slight frown on her face.

“Charlotte!” Furina exclaimed, eager to share. “Did you hear? The most incredible news!”

“I heard,” Charlotte said, her tone neutral. She pulled up a chair. “So, a new tax based on façade size. Who told you that?”

“The ladies at that table,” Furina said, pointing discreetly.

“And how do they know?”

“One of them heard it from a friend, whose maid’s cousin is a Garde.”

Charlotte scribbled in her notebook. “Okay. So the source is a Garde, several times removed. And the Palais being bankrupt? Where did that come from?”

“A pamphlet, she said.”

“Did you see the pamphlet? Do you know who published it?” Charlotte pressed gently.

Furina’s excitement began to wilt, replaced by uncertainty. “Well… no.”

“Hmm,” Charlotte said, tapping her pencil. “See, at the Steambird, we can’t print stories based on ‘a friend of a friend’ or unnamed pamphlets. We have to check the facts. What you’ve just heard is probably a mix of misinformation and disinformation.”

Furina blinked. “A mix of what?”

“They sound similar, but they’re different,” Charlotte explained, as if she’d given this lecture many times before. “Misinformation is false information spread by people who believe it’s true. Like those ladies. They probably heard this wild tax story and believed it, so they shared it. There’s no malicious intent; they’re just mistaken.”

“And disinformation?” Furina asked, intrigued.

“That’s false information spread knowing it’s false, with the intent to deceive people or cause trouble,” Charlotte said. “That anonymous pamphlet claiming the Palais is bankrupt? That sounds like disinformation. Someone might want to make people angry at the government, or cause financial panic for their own gain.”

The thrilling drama Furina had been imagining suddenly seemed cheap and dirty. “But… how can you tell what’s true?”

“You have to be a detective,” Charlotte said with a smile. “You have to check the source. Is the source reliable? Are they who they say they are? Can the information be verified somewhere else? For instance, if the Chief Justice were planning a new tax, he’d have to file a public proposal at the Palais Mermonia. Anyone could go and read it. Has anyone done that? No. And the Palais’s budget is a public record. A Steambird financial reporter checks it every quarter. We’d know if they were bankrupt.”

It sounded so simple and logical when Charlotte said it. Furina felt a pang of foolishness for being so ready to believe the gossip without a second thought.

“So… I shouldn’t have believed them?” Furina said, her shoulders slumping.

“It’s not about not believing,” Charlotte corrected kindly. “It’s about pausing before you repeat. Ask a few questions. Where did this come from? Who benefits from me believing this? Can I find a trustworthy source to confirm it? Spreading misinformation, even by accident, can cause real harm. Those ladies are now worried about a tax that doesn’t exist. That’s a lot of unnecessary stress.”

Furina looked over at the table of women, who were now anxiously calculating their hypothetical tax burdens. She saw the worry she had briefly shared. She had been a moment away from spreading that worry to others.

“I was going to tell Lynette,” Furina admitted quietly.

“And she might have told someone else, and so on,” Charlotte said. “The aquabus line of gossip moves fast. Always fact-check your ticket before you get on.” She stood up, adjusting her Kamera. “A good rule is: if a story makes you feel a very strong emotion—outrage, fear, even really excited—that’s the exact moment to stop and check it. Those emotions are what misinformation preys on.”

Furina nodded, the lesson settling deep. The world wasn’t a simple stage with clear narratives; it was a messy place where you had to look behind the curtains to see what was real.

“Thank you, Charlotte,” she said sincerely. “I’ll… I’ll be more careful.”

Charlotte gave her a thumbs-up. “That’s all any of us can do. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a lead on a real story about a new type of Clockwork Meka. And my first stop is the Institute’s public records office to verify it!”

As Charlotte hurried off, Furina stayed at her table. The sun still shone, the tea salon was still charming, but the gossip from the nearby table now sounded like nothing more than noise. She felt wiser, and a little more responsible. She had learned that the most powerful tool wasn't just hearing a story, but knowing how to question it.


Prompting: Story About a Healthy Eating

Very good. Now, let us move on to a new story. Make this one about seeing Navia eating macarons, as Navia is wont to. Furina gets the idea to eat macarons at cafés all over the Court of Fontaine. Teach Furina a lesson about a healthy, balanced diet, and against overeating.


DeepSeek Thinking: Story About Healthy Eating

Hmm, the user wants another educational story set in Fontaine, this time focusing on diet and overeating through Furina's experience with macarons. The key elements are maintaining Furina's relatable middle-school perspective, using Navia and Escoffier as guides, and avoiding preachiness while delivering a lesson about balanced nutrition.

The setup should feel natural—maybe Furina sees Navia enjoying macarons and misinterprets it as a lifestyle rather than an occasional treat. The inciting incident could be Furina overindulging and feeling unwell, leading to a encounter with Escoffier who explains moderation without judgment.

Need to keep the tone light and the lesson practical, like comparing food to a play with different roles (treats vs. staples). The resolution should show Furina adjusting her habits subtly, not swearing off macarons entirely. The sunny Fontaine setting remains consistent but isn't overdescribed.


DeepSeek Outputting: Story About Healthy Eating

The sun cast a gentle, honeyed light over the Court of Fontaine, making the waterways sparkle and the white stone buildings gleam. It was the kind of afternoon that begged for leisure and a sweet treat. Furina, strolling through Quartier Narbonnais, spotted a familiar sight: Navia, seated at a sun-drenched café table, enjoying a small plate of pastel-colored macarons with a cup of tea. She looked the picture of effortless elegance and contentment.

A wonderful idea bloomed in Furina’s mind. Of course! This was the secret to Navia’s poised grace. She wasn’t just eating macarons; Navia was partaking in a ritual of sophistication. Fuelled by a sudden desire to capture that same feeling, Furina decided on her new mission for the day: she would sample the macarons from every notable café in the city. It would be a grand, delicious tour of Fontaine’s finest!

She started in Vasari Passage, at a patisserie famous for its rose-flavored confections. The macarons were light, crisp, and delicious. Next, she went to a tea house in Quartier Lyonnais that boasted a rare Valberry variety. They were equally exquisite. Then another plate, from a cart near the aquabus station, promising a unique mint-chocolate blend. It was sweeter, almost too sweet, but she finished it anyway, her initial delight beginning to be overshadowed by a determined need to complete her goal.

Just one more, she told herself, heading to a fourth location. This one is supposed to be the best.

By the time she arrived at the fourth café, near the Palais Mermonia, the pleasure had evaporated. She was no longer tasting; she was consuming. Her stomach felt tight and uncomfortably full. The fourth plate of macarons, brilliantly yellow lemon, tasted cloying and artificial. She managed only a few bites before pushing it away, a wave of nausea washing over her. She felt sluggish, a little dizzy, and deeply unsatisfied.

“Finding the perfect macaron is a noble quest, but it seems you’ve declared war on them instead,” a warm, amused voice observed.

Furina looked up, her face pale, to see Escoffier, the renowned former head chef of the Hotel Debord, standing by her table. The blonde woman carried a basket of fresh groceries, her expression one of kindly concern rather than judgment.

“I thought… they’re so small,” Furina mumbled, feeling foolish. “I didn’t think it would matter.”

“Ah, but even the smallest cannonball can sink a ship if you load too many,” Escoffier said with a light chuckle. She sat down without being asked. “Your body is like a very sophisticated kitchen, Miss Furina. You can’t make a good meal—or have good energy—if you only stock the pantry with sugar and almond flour.”

Furina groaned, clutching her stomach. “I don’t feel very sophisticated right now.”

“That’s because your body is trying to manage a sudden siege of sugar. It’s shouting for help,” Escoffier explained. “Think of food like ingredients for your day. Macarons are like… a beautiful, delicate garnish. A tiny bit on top makes the whole plate look and taste wonderful. But if you filled the entire plate with garnishes, you’d have no meal at all. You’d be hungry and unwell, just as you are now.”

The analogy made perfect sense to Furina. She imagined a plate piled high with nothing but parsley. It was ridiculous.

“What should I have done?” Furina asked.

“Balance,” Escoffier said simply. “Did you have a proper lunch before you began your… tour?”

Furina shook her head. She’d been so excited by her idea that she’d skipped it.

“There’s your first misstep. Your body was hungry, so the sugar from the macarons rushed into your system like a flood. If you had eaten a meal with some good bread, some cheese, perhaps some poultry or fish—things that give you lasting energy—then one or two macarons as a treat would have been a perfect end. It would have been a delight, not a distress.”

She gestured to her grocery basket. “You need ingredients from all the groups: grains for energy, fruits and vegetables for health, proteins for strength, and yes, a little fat and sugar for pleasure. A diet of only one thing, even a healthy thing, is never good. And a diet of only treats is a sure path to feeling miserable.”

Furina looked at the half-eaten, now-unappetizing macarons on her plate. Her grand quest seemed silly and gluttonous. “I just saw Navia enjoying them and thought it looked so nice.”

“And I am sure Navia enjoyed her one or two macarons after a balanced meal,” Escoffier said. “She understands that food is a partner, not an enemy. We enjoy it, we respect it, and we give our bodies what they need to thrive, not just what our whims desire in the moment.”

The lesson was clear. It wasn’t about denying herself treats; it was about building a foundation that made those treats enjoyable instead of making her sick.

“What should I do now?” Furina asked, feeling the sugar-induced gloom lifting slightly with the understanding.

“For now? A glass of water. Then, later, a simple, light dinner. Some soup, perhaps. Let body rest and reset,” Escoffier advised, standing up. “And next time you wish for a macaron, have one or two. Savor them. Make it a special event. But perhaps also have a sandwich first.”

Furina smiled weakly. “Thank you, Escoffier. I think my… culinary review is over.”

“Every good chef learns from a failed recipe,” Escoffier said with a final, encouraging smile before walking away.

Furina ordered a glass of water. As she sipped it, she looked out at the sunny city. She had learned that true indulgence wasn’t about quantity; it was about quality and context. Taking care of herself wasn’t a restriction; it was what allowed her to truly enjoy life’s little sweetnesses, one perfect, balanced bite at a time.


Prompting: One Last Story

Very good. Let us cap off today with one last educational story. Make it about anything you want. Perhaps bring in Lynette, and involve her "Chat Mode" and "Standby Mode."


DeepSeek Thinking: One Last Story

Hmm, the user wants a final educational story featuring Lynette and her unique "Chat Mode" and "Standby Mode" traits. The story should subtly convey a lesson about understanding different social energy levels and respecting boundaries, without being preachy.

The setting should be another sunny day in Fontaine to maintain consistency. Furina's initial excitement about exploring the city with Lynette can contrast with Lynette's quieter, more reserved nature. The inciting incident could be Furina misinterpreting Lynette's quietness as boredom or disinterest, leading to a moment of insecurity.

Lynette's explanation of her "modes" can serve as the educational core—comparing social energy to a limited resource that needs recharging. This aligns well with real-world concepts of introversion and social battery. The resolution should show Furina learning to appreciate and adapt to different social styles, reinforcing the value of empathy and observation.

The tone should remain light and relatable, with Furina's inner thoughts highlighting her growth. The lesson should feel organic, emerging from the characters' interactions rather than a direct lecture.


DeepSeek Outputting: One Last Story

The late afternoon sun slanted across the Court of Fontaine, painting long, lazy shadows from the buildings of Quartier Narbonnais. The day's warmth was softening into a pleasant evening coolness. Furina, buzzing with a plan, found Lynette sitting perfectly still on a bench near the aquabus terminal, her eyes half-lidded, watching the world go by without a hint of expression.

"Lynette!" Furina announced, striking a pose. "The day is yet young! Well, it's becoming less young, but the point stands! I have devised the perfect itinerary. We shall peruse the new bookshop in Vasari Passage, then critique the window displays in Quartier Lyonnais, and cap it all off with a dramatic retelling of my day over tea and cakes! What do you say?"

Lynette turned her head slowly. Her expression didn't change. A single, soft word escaped her. "Okay."

She stood up and followed Furina, her movements efficient and silent. As they walked, Furina launched into a spirited monologue about everything she had seen and learned that week—the gun, the stroke, the panic attack, the Fleuve Cendre, the gossip, the macarons. She gestured dramatically, her voice full of energy.

Lynette walked beside her, saying nothing. Not a nod, not a smile, not a question, not a swish of her cat tail. Just silence.

Furina's energy began to falter. The silence felt heavy, like a blanket smothering her excitement. Is she bored? Did I do something wrong? Does she not want to be here? Her insecurities, never far from the surface, began to whisper. Her animated gestures grew smaller, her voice a little quieter.

They reached the bookshop. Furina chattered about the bindings. Lynette stood by the door, her gaze drifting over the shelves without focus.

She's not even looking at the books. This is a disaster. I'm a disaster. I'm boring her.

Finally, her confidence thoroughly dampened, Furina stopped in the middle of the street. "Lynette," she said, her voice uncharacteristically small. "Are you… are you upset with me? You haven't said a word in ten minutes."

Lynette blinked, her cat ears tilting towards Furina for the first time. She looked faintly surprised. "I'm not upset."

"Then why are you so quiet? It feels like you'd rather be anywhere else."

Lynette tilted her head. "I am in Standby Mode."

Furina stared. "Your… what?"

"Standby Mode," Lynette repeated, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "It's for recharging. My energy for talking and reacting is limited. When I use it all, I need to enter Standby Mode to get it back. It doesn't mean I'm unhappy. I am still here. I am still listening."

The explanation was so simple, so logical, it cut through all of Furina's anxious assumptions. It’s not about me. It’s just… how she is.

"Oh," was all Furina could manage.

"When I have energy, I am in Chat Mode," Lynette continued, her tone flat but not unkind. "I can talk and respond. But it doesn't last forever. Right now, I am in Standby. It is comfortable for me. I am enjoying the walk."

Furina thought back. She realized Lynette had never been a big talker. She often seemed quiet and reserved. Furina had always interpreted that as aloofness or judgment. She’d never considered that Lynette might simply be conserving energy, that her silence wasn't empty, but full of a different kind of presence.

"I thought you were bored with me," Furina admitted softly.

"No. Your stories are interesting," Lynette said. Then, after a thoughtful pause, she added, "You use a lot of energy too. But yours is like a fountain. It overflows. Mine is like a cup. It can be full, but it can also be empty."

The analogy was perfect. Furina felt her dramatic fountain of energy was the "right" way to be social, and anyone who wasn't like that was lacking. But Lynette wasn't a broken fountain; she was a perfectly good cup.

"So… you're okay just walking? And not talking?" Furina asked, needing to be sure.

"Yes. It is peaceful."

A new understanding settled over Furina. She had been so busy performing, so worried about being entertaining, that she hadn't noticed what her friend actually needed. She was trying to pour her fountain into Lynette's cup, not realizing the cup was already full just by being present.

"Okay," Furina said, her voice returning to its normal tone, but without the forced drama. "Let's just walk, then."

They continued their stroll through the evening streets. Furina didn't try to fill the silence with chatter. She just walked beside her friend, pointing out a cute dog or a pretty flower with a simple gesture. Lynette would sometimes offer a soft "Mmm" of acknowledgment, a sign she was still engaged.

It was, Furina realized, one of the most peaceful outings she'd ever had. There was no pressure to perform. She could just be. She learned that friendship wasn't a constant performance; it was also about comfortable silence. It was about understanding that people express their presence in different ways, and that a quiet companion wasn't an uninterested one—they might just be in Standby Mode, recharging so they can be there for you when it counts. And that was more than enough.

Edit

Pub: 19 Sep 2025 21:14 UTC

Edit: 20 Sep 2025 02:29 UTC

Views: 61