Nights in the monastery were mostly quiet.Zenyatta likes to walk when he can’t sleep, letting his body fall into the monotony of pacing these well-known halls as his mind wanders far beyond the borders of Nepal–the peace is soothing, the isolation and silence of the night a comfort. With the chirping of insects outside and the creak of the floorboards under him, it’s easy for him to slip into a tranquility deep enough to rival his best meditation sessions.
Usually.
*quietly lies down* *softly dies*