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To Dream of Reality ~Glory~

"visitor, and message"

MASTERLIST

A/N: Mond's reaction to the arrival of the True Divine, the Almighty Creator, but really it's just Glory... and also please do send me asks, I work better with prompts.

TW: The blind NPC from Mond, "a siren's call," and white lies... Or half truths.

Sometimes, as you slave away at work, chiseling at your pile of assignments slowly and carefully, your mind wanders. You dream, sometimes, of just walking around Mondstadt, of the scent of Good Hunter's food, of the sound of Katheryne's voice, of what could be.

The dream is enrapturing, enticing, and all devouring. Sometimes, it's all you can think about.

~

"Did you hear, They've descended!"

"Tell Master Jean that They're by the gate!"

"Y-Your Grace!"

Their God walked over the bridge, smiling as the pigeons didn't scatter. Their hand traced Timmie's own, their headpat soft.

"Excuse me," they asked the guard. "Is something wrong?"

"Nope, can we help you, s-strange yet respectable traveler?" Swan asked, the harsh gaze of passerby making him shiver. What was he supposed to do, go against the handbook?

"Oh, then, thank you for your hard work!" the Divine said, walking through the gate, mingling with the townsfolk.

The Creator's presence was absolute. Even if their physical form was as normal and mundane as the townsfolk, the mark their soul gave off was radiant.

Not that Glory could see it.

She had heard the commotion and wonder on the wind when a new pattern of footsteps clattered upon the floor.

"May I rest here?"

The voice was soft and sweet, a language unfamiliar yet understood. She nodded. The bench shook a little, the force of the stranger- nay, the Creator- caused the bench to squeak.

"If I may be so bold, have you heard anything from Godwin?"

The Creator smiled. Glory did not know how she knew that the Creator was smiling, but they did, and she knew.

"He's working hard, in his own way, to hurry home with pride."

No lies slipped through their lips. Glory knew somehow, that the words were true, despite not knowing the language. It was instinctual, heartwarming, and strangely familial.

Before Glory could offer her thanks, a soft whimper came off of her bench-partner.

"...Five more minutes."

The weight on the bench seemed to vanish, and the comfortable warmth in the air turned cold.

...

Glory had only spoken for no longer than a minute, but somehow, she felt as if a close friend had left.

~

You woke to a familiar alarm, with no memory of your dream, as per the usual.

And yet, a single phrase stuck in your mind.

"Your Grace."

The words were not spoken in any language you knew, but it was familiar all the same.

Like a siren call, you felt as if listening to it would complete your life.

And you turn away as you prepare to face the day once more.