[ quiet tombs within the belly of the earth, his lungs full of perfumed dust — these are the consequences that zhongli long has wrought. these are the foundations upon which his history is built, endless ivies that pock the stone it climbs upon. one day, when time is done and through, zhongli will stand in the sin of all he has brought. who was he, to have done what he has done? who might he have become? under the roving eye of the divine, the fragments of his youth upturned and buried, what good was it to trace his fingers to the source? a bird who sings is sought. and zhongli —
what is kind and what is necessary is rare to meet in pairs. it is true, that he holds no pleasure in the absence of what their contract had become. sentiment gathered, sentiment lost — it is not his place to demand a better outcome, when it was never promised to either of them. when, as he placed his word into stone, there was now knowing the passage of days spent along the harbor. tucked along the docks, walking through the alleys, it had been more than zhongli anticipated. and so too, was it another loss. ]
No, [ he starts. he pauses, words stuck within the sudden vice of his throat. he clears it, once and gently, as the barkeep moves on. ] Nor could you.
no subject
what is kind and what is necessary is rare to meet in pairs. it is true, that he holds no pleasure in the absence of what their contract had become. sentiment gathered, sentiment lost — it is not his place to demand a better outcome, when it was never promised to either of them. when, as he placed his word into stone, there was now knowing the passage of days spent along the harbor. tucked along the docks, walking through the alleys, it had been more than zhongli anticipated. and so too, was it another loss. ]
No, [ he starts. he pauses, words stuck within the sudden vice of his throat. he clears it, once and gently, as the barkeep moves on. ] Nor could you.
[ that much is true, isn't it? ]