A/N: Hi! Didn't want to take too long to update this one, a brand new chapter is on its way. For now, this is a repost of a one shot I had already posted, but I decided to put it here in the one shot collection as well, for the people who don't know it yet :) really like this one and I hope you enjoy it too <3

Loving a deity was one wild thing.

Many would say Seungwan of the High Mountains was a hysterical woman. She lived by herself on top of the hills, in a small cottage amidst the purple hues of her grapevine plantation. Since she was little, she was portrayed as the village fool, drunk on sweet reveries by day and claiming of dreams that brought her messages by night. And, albeit the local children would tell others of her as lovely woman, no parent wanted their offspring near her.

So, most of the days, Seungwan was left alone. For her, that was a marvelous scenario – all the peace and quiet, except for the fundamental sounds of life that breathed around her. Not a chirp bothered her when she was creating. The young woman was an artist. A poet, a writer of many fables and, primarily, a painter – which explained why the walls of her house were filled with sceneries and painted ladies enjoying the juiciness of youth between clasped fingers, bitten fruit, and movements that turned into vivid dances by the flickering light of a candle during the night.

Like every artist, the madwoman of the High Mountains had a muse to call her own, her genie, how the people would call gods that inspired humans. When people talked about artists being possessed by genies when their ideas would bubble in molten gold from the tips of their fingers, one would imagine some literalness to it. As in divine possession of body, mind and heart, lent to the gods for them to make use of human ways and bring their art among mortals.

Seungwan knew it wasn’t quite like that.

The presence of her muse was physical, palpable, kissable even; but she was the madwoman of the High Mountains. Therefore, no one believed her whenever she said that the goddess of spring and hunt showed herself to her every two moons, glorious on all her twenty-six feet of height.

The deity would always come at night. At first, she was a sweet-scented zephyr, as luscious as a Queen of The Night flower would be when the sun gave in for the moon to shine its cold gleam over the lives of common people and bring its magic within their homes without most of them ever noticing it. Seungwan knew it when the kind smell seemed to envelop her nostrils with the gentlest of embraces, and when the bells that hanged over her window danced in the most magical sounds.

The young woman would lean over the window’s parapet as always, batting her eyelashes as she put a silky lock of hair behind her ear, which was pierced all over in god-made gold. A smile curled up her reddish, pulp-coated lips, and she bit them before calling out to the vast woods that below her home:

“Come, my love. Not only the windows are wide open to your presence but, as per usual, so is my heart. Come fill me with all this good and all this bad and I shall translate it into the simple slopes of the written language.”

Joohyun always showed herself from a hurricane of shiny golden leaves that took the shape of a jaw-dropping woman - not only jaw-drpping because of her immense height with the sculpted body of a goddess, but for her features were gentle yet strong, an awe-inducing face that would make most sappy male poets of their generation write one hundred thousand sonnets by hand. Although Joohyun had showed herself to many men in the past, none of them captivated her, none of them made her stay. Seungwan was different – for she was no man. And the words of Sappho had never made more sense.

From the window, only the center of the deity’s face could be seen; from the soft point of her nose, to lips so honey-glazed-like, and eyes that sho