Work Text:
Do gods dream?
When night falls, when the last of Aria, Sonnet, and Canon illuminates the world, when the world is trapped in stillness and all rest–
Do gods dream?
I dream, of endless dances and forgotten amaranthine, of sweet candies and boundless joy, of a painful grip and–
Captivity.
I was not enough of a god, so I was kept away. Perhaps it is why I can dream. I am still just a sapling in an ancient forest, a grain of sand next to a dune, a single ray of moonlight, a reflection of the blazing sun. I am not enough of a god.
Then, to you who have seen and remembered millenniums;
To the verdant winds that play freely through my hair,
Do you dream?
"I do not sleep. I slumber."
Sleep. Slumber. Verbs, synonyms. If I searched through a dictionary, one would come up with the other. Inconclusive.
Do you dream?
"I dream, in the same way the blind man sees the stars."
The winds are playful, warm even when it's the dead of the night in autumn, kind.
Yet they do not dream, trapped in abyssal black.
Then;
To the high mountains that watch over me,
Do you dream?
"Rest does not come to me."
The mountains have always been there and always will be, unflinching, unmoving, forever protecting the weak that seek their shelter. Kind and steady.
Yet they do not dream, trapped in the plight of divine existence.
Then;
To the thunder and lightning that pillow my head,
Do you dream?
"I see visions of the past when I close my eyes."
The storm is in constant motion but its eye does not move from where it watches, stillness and transience paradoxically stuffed into an exquisite puppet. Paradoxical, illogical, unreasonable; the deadly storm holds me kindly– it is capable of many unexpected things.
Yet it does not dream, trapped in an unmoving past.
Then;
To the winds and mountains and storm,
I will help you dream.
"Take my hand."
The silver-white roots reach to endless depths, all-knowing of all in Teyvat. A perfect medium for dreaming. If you simply close your eyes and rest your mind...
Gods are trapped by the laws of existence.
Yet they dream, if only for a single night when the last of Aria, Sonnet, and Canon illuminates the world when it is trapped in stillness and all, even them, rest.
The silver-white World-Tree reaches to the abyss and the night sky, and it wraps itself gently around the world, invisible, but still there, to watch over it and remember all that is beautiful.
Good night.