zhongven things xd

the wind (and the heart)

(this is pasted from my short stories book but it should belong here instead)

morax held an unusual fondness for the wind. perhaps it was because of the way a cool breeze kissed your skin on a hot summer day. or maybe, how it carried the wisdom of those long passed. or even how, no matter the efforts you put in, the wind cannot be caught.

morax wasn't sure; they all seemed like great qualities, but none quite sat right with him to be called his favorite. the thought left an odd hole somewhere within—he couldn't pinpoint the exact location. he would have pried for the feeling longer, but as an archon, duty calls.

maybe someday, in due time, he'll figure out what he loves so much about the wind.

...

the mortal man known as zhongli had never been to mondstat before. however, he felt as if he was drawn to the city of wind, and the nation surrounding it. so...

...

zhongli graced the tips of his fingers against a white cecilia flower that rested atop starsnatch cliff. his bright amber eyes bore into the poor plant like it was a knockoff liyuean antique—the man was relentless. but he simply could not help it: the native flora of mondstat were quite beautiful. the gentle, pearly glow of the cecilia could easily withstand mondstat's most monstrous gales... an old friend of his had once taught him that, centuries ago.

the man's boundless knowledge didn't just... materialize, you know.

he picked the cecilia from the stem, like an odd force had seemingly told him to. it was likely he would have done it anyways, after all cecilias are uncannily beautiful, not to mention strong. (just as some may have described morax, long, long ago.)

zhongli shook his head slightly, continuing his trek up to the highest point of the cliff. the air grew cooler as he drew closer to the top, and with that came the harsh winds brought from the eastern sea. for most foreigners it may be disorienting, perhaps even for some locals, but zhongli was a remarkably sturdy man in both conscience and body.

(and, years and years and years before, morax would always visit the cecilias atop the eastern cliff. there was always someone waiting for him there, glass of cider in hand and another resting perfectly still, unmoving upon the cliff's peak.)

now, among the grass and small patches of local flora, zhongli sat out toward the sea, a salty gale whipping his long hair back, forth and all around. (morax had always loved the smell. and, oh so faintly, he could recall the scent of apples.)

the stars twinkle above the liyuean, beautiful constellations dancing around in the sky. he couldn't recall any names, as astrology had never truly stuck with him, but there was a familiarity to them. as if he'd once met with several in the distant past, and even the not too distant past. though he pondered carefully, a slow feeling swept over him with ease—a familiar feeling he just couldn't place. it was warm as his flushing cheeks and made his stomach feel sick, almost fluttery. but it also brought a cold, solid sensation, like [the morax of two, three, four millenia ago].

it was like the sweeping winds of the city of freedom; it was something that you could not grasp with your own hands.

and zhongli could not escape it.

but morax. morax understood. though the mortal zhongli was plagued by the feeling of it, the immortal morax carried the weight.

morax had felt. morax had laughed. morax had made memories. morax had an uncanny fondness for the wind. morax loved the wind. morax had loved.

and,

morax had failed.

for 6,000 years, morax had reigned upon this world. he had seen death and he had seen life, and he had seen love and he had seen hate.

but nobody in all of teyvat could hate as much as morax hated himself.

and no man could have had as much love in him as barbatos, the former god of freedom and wind.

and now, atop the eastern cliff and among the cecilias, sat the former god of geo, in the form of the mortal man zhongli. a man who was burdened with one too many feelings of his past life, feelings that he cannot escape. regret, sadness, longing, love. among those that morax had selfishly left all for him, the love morax held for mondstat's own enigmatic god only seemed to overflow.

though he may had been tossed out for the wolves, zhongli knows that barbatos must have left behind his own mortal, just as morax had.

and for that reason, zhongli would not cry just yet.

he would chase the unchasable.

zhongli has always been fond of the wind. though he may not know why he loves the wind so much just yet, he is sure that the former god of wind must have the answer.