[ So something like Elynas then, possibly, if the bard wasn't making up a drunken tale. Maybe something that came to Mondstadt during the Cataclysm and eventually perished on this mountain, its remains eventually becoming part of this hostile landscape as its heart continues to reverberate like a distant crashing of waves upon barren shores. Is that why this area feels almost unnatural in its coldness? Or perhaps something happened long before the Cataclysm wrought destruction upon the land.

The snowflakes that had caught on his hair and eyelashes before they made it into the safety of the cabin have begun to melt, changing from Cryo into Hydro—and with this transition, he senses some residual emotions from a distant past within the droplets that makes him pause in the middle of taking neatly-folded clothes out of his leather trunk. The fear of imminent death, though he cannot surmise anything more specific than that.

(A civilization that flourished on a once verdant mountain, destroyed by a nail cast down by the divine. Someone was caught in its blast radius and now their final emotion is frozen in time within the eternal snow.)

Spacing out for second, it takes him a short but noticeable moment for him to realize that he's been asked a question. ]

...Not particularly. [ Neuvillette can recite a few famous poems he's heard in his centuries of life and spent a few evenings doing research on different types of poetry and the way they are structured to prepare himself for the gala so he won't be a complete embarrassment in front of the audience tomorrow, but that hardly makes him well-versed on the topic. He possesses a smattering of knowledge and nothing more than that, if you ask him. ]

To be frank, I would rather be in my office drafting tax legislation, but Lady Furina insisted that I come with her.