[She doesn't have quite the same expression on her own face when he turns her thoughts towards Natlan. There's a brief hesitation, then she gives a small shake of her head.]

I have very few fond memories of Natlan. [Vennessa tells him, loosely clasping her hands behind her back.] I haven't been back there for ten years, not since my tribe were chased into Mondstadt and captured by the nobles there.

[But she gives a little shrug, taking a few steps away to pick up a particularly shiny-looking pebble half-buried in the sand. Her thumb smooths the grains away from the surface of it, revealing the mottled colours worn almost glassy by erosion.] Murata cares little for her people. Or, at least, she never seemed to care for mine.

[No help. Not even a whisper of acknowledgement for ten years. Would Venti have done the same, had some of his own people been held captive as slaves in another country? No, he would have found a way to free them. She's sure of it.

She forces a smile when she turns back to Childe.]

But I think an archon of love would care far more for her own than one who loves only war. Snezhnaya must be a pleasant place.