𝙞. 𝐐𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐗𝐈𝐍 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍 ( zhongli )
❝ how long, dear love, have you lived upon
this mountain alone? don't you wish to live
in grand splendor or simplistic content ? ❞
𝙞𝙞. in which ───── a lone resident of one
distant peak s...
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CURIOSITY, you learned, was a reckless maverick in every right.
Your mother told you of its consequences, of the people who wandered too far from the safety of your village and the watchful eye of your deity, and she told you of their death and the disaster they reaped alongside it.
Curiosity was what cost you — and you knew, you knew better than to indulge in its traitorous little tug when you wake, the scent of petrichor in abundance and the chill of a rainstorm's aftermath prickling your skin.
"Forget about it." you tell yourself when you rub the sleep out of your eyes.
"Forget about it." you tell the reflection staring up at you, her brows furrowed with a familiar sternness. It scatters when you dip your hands into the basin, the icy water stinging your fingertips.
"Forget about it." you breathe out as you lean against the doorframe of your small home, staring out at the expanse of green and the fog that had settled a few feet below.
Yet here you were, scaling down a mossy slope, your bare feet damp from the dew it trod over and your hair still messy from your sleep. You could dimly recall something the previous night between the rains, between the crash of thunder and the crackle of lightning. It was a sound too distinct and out of place in a storm, something akin to the beginnings of an earthquake before an unknown force cuts its life short.
Your head swivels to the side. You couldn't see much past the mist save for what was in front of you and you clamber down with a little more prudence till the ground evens out a bit more and the screen before you dissipates. You could see nothing out of place, save for a few upturned trees and your shoulders slump. It was all for nothing, you realize and a tinier voice dares to whisper a spiteful little 'dammit'.
You turn, casting one last glance over the clearing, then make your way back uphill. It was a wasted attempt and as you stew in your own self-berating and disappointment, you almost miss the faint crackle behind you. It was just the wind, you reason. There was little cause for it to be anything else. What could possibly make its way up here?
When you hear it a second time, you freeze, something cold jolting at your bones.
