Fart story one-shots 2!

Gassy Ghosts of Liyue: Chapter 1

Yelan watches her fingers tremble. She hovers her hand over the open air, watching it shake like a tree against the wind. Tenderly, she curls her fingers into a fist, but it stops halfway, an invisible force preventing further movement. Her other hand gently pushes it along, calluses rub against her rough, yet smoothly porcelain, skin. She twitches as her hand balls up into a half-fist, a sharp sting arcing across her fingers. Yelan wearily drops her hands, letting out a heavy sigh. Nearby, a bandage roll sits waiting. Its length of cloth not yet broken, instead tucked neatly within itself. Yelan unfurls the first inch and cuts it off, removing the uneven head.

*Drip* *Drip*

A quiet pitter patter of blood trickles down from a wild boar's carcass, hung upside-down. The blood gathers within a small metal bucket below, a decent pool already formed. Yelan stands from her chair, her fingers neatly wrapped and treated, and eyes the hanging boar.

"Not finished yet..." she gauged.

A door creaks open. No footsteps followed.

"You're back."

"Mm."

Like a ghost, a long, flowing head of silky white hair floated past the door. Silent footfalls came one after the other as the spirit dropped a bag of herbs onto a nearby table. Yelan observed her, confused. Even after spending three days away from the shack, Shenhe still appeared the same as before. Her bodysuit remained spotless, not a tear or stretch in sight. Her skin and hair unblemished from the days spent away from the closest thing resembling a washroom around this area. She was a goddess compared to Yelan. A worn-out tunic provided little to her look, only serving the purpose of public decency. And only when the door opened did Yelan think to put on a dark pair of cargo pants. The comfort of solitude disappeared as she wore it over her underwear.

"The herbs. Apply it on one's fingers to stop the internal bleeding." Shenhe pointed out.

But not a trace of care or concern lined her voice.

...

Yelan breathed in deep as her eyes fluttered open. And in front of her, sat a mysterious white woman, staring at her with an empty look. Yelan instantly jumped off her bed, naked, and with a knife in her hand.

"Who are you?"

No response.

"Who sent you!?"

Normally, she would have moved to pin down her assailant, but something was not right with this woman. She remained stoic. Unmoving against Yelan's aggression. Her eyes merely followed Yelan's own, not a finger lifted elsewhere. No weapon in sight, hands folded at her lap. She was...defenceless? A spine-tingling fear shook Yelan. Something within the woman was egging her on, daring her to strike. Cold, opal eyes stared into her own blue. Not a hint of light reflected off those pupils. If not for her continuing to follow Yelan's gaze, she might as well be considered dead.

"What...do you want?"

The woman finally moved and tilted her head, silky bangs falling over half her face. She made a gesture with her hands for Yelan to continue. Cautiously, Yelan settled down back onto her bed, placing the knife beside her pillow. Her arms nervously pulled a shirt over her naked body, covering the essentials from the woman's gaze.

"Hello..?"

Yelan walked at a distance from the unknown entity, an unnerving stare following her as she made her way to the door. Her peaceful morning routine ceased with the arrival of this strangely dressed woman. The woman followed Yelan, watching over her as she bathed and carried out her chores. And when the time came for Yelan to hike up the mountain to hone her archery, the woman followed as well. Her intent refused to make itself clear. She was neither protecting nor acting against her. Attacked by a geovishap, the woman simply watched from the side, neither entertained or concerned. Coming down the mountain weary and battered, the woman simply followed from a distance, erasing any potential theories that she was out to kill Yelan. And every morning, without fail, she would sit in the same chair that she appeared in, hands folded on her lap.