branches-of-time

[branches-of-time]

Heaven In Hiding [Ch. 3]

Oh! My Kingdom

You look up and greet the eavesdropping bard standing on the cliff above you. “Hello, Myweiss.”

“Greetings, our dear Reaper of Romance! Wonderful weather for a beautiful song today, isn’t it?” Venti adds, clearly poking at her buttons.

She lowers her glasses and looks down upon you both with distaste. “Hello, lovebirds.” She spits the term like it’s an insult. In her eyes, you know it is.

Venti engages her playfully. “Myweiss. What have we ever done to you?”

She scowls. “A man such as yourself would never understand.”

He pouts. “Oh, c’mon, I think I can. After all, I’m hardly even a man!”

Pairing: Venti x Reader - Established Relationship

Word Count: 4,318

Synopsis: The Church of Favonius is holding a charity fundraising event, and you’ve roped Venti into helping out. After a brief distraction in the kitchen, the two of you finally make it to Springvale, where you meet a stranger with a special request.

Contains: I’m rating this fic 18+ for the suggestive dialogue and actions, although there isn’t any actual sex in this chapter. There likely will be in the final chapter though, so you’ve been warned. [light Dom/Sub dynamic] [Dom!Reader] [Sub!Venti] (the sexual dynamic is barely even present in this chapter lmao i got kinda carried away with the plot instead) [Gender-Neutral Reader] [Genderfluid Venti] [She/He/They pronouns for Venti] [teasing] [kissing] [domestic]

A/Ns: This is fic 3 of 16 that I’m doing based on combining prompts from this list!

Day 3 (Apples) & Day 18 (Hiding)

Chapter One - Chapter Two (note that these Tumblr versions of the first two chapters are outdated, read the Ao3 version instead for the most cohesive experience)

By the time you make your way to the bottom of the stairs, Venti has already seated himself on the kitchen counter. Reaching out for the basket beside him, he pulls it close and starts pilfering through the selection of fruit inside. Rhythm and Rhyme pace at his dangling feet until they notice you approaching. As you make your way to the fridge, they crowd around you instead.

“So!” Venti states in his usual upbeat tone. “We’re heading to Springvale first, right?”

“Yep.” You bend down, retrieving the dog food from the bottom shelf of the refrigerator. “I’m scheduled to escort a shipment of supplies from there to the city.” Closing the fridge door and walking to the counter, you try not to trip over Rhythm as the small dog runs in excited circles around your feet.

Venti holds two apples out in front of him, weighing one in each hand. “That shouldn’t be too difficult.”

Pulling the dog’s food bowls from the drying rack by the sink, you set to filling them. “I’ve surely done hundreds of these kinds of escorts by now. They’re a common commission submitted to the guild.” Rhyme’s nose nudges against your hip, trying to reach the counter. “It’s light work, honestly.” Taking a bowl in each hand, you turn, leading both dogs to their designated spots.

Venti watches you place their food down, gaze traveling from the bowls to your hands, up your arms and across your shoulders. She envisions the defined muscles she knows you’re hiding beneath the fabric of your sleeves. “For someone as strong as you are, just about any commission could be considered light work.”

You laugh as you rise and turn to face her. “In Mondstadt at least, yeah.” Returning to the counter in a few long strides, you grab the remaining dog food, returning it to the fridge. “You gave rise to quite a peaceful nation. The biggest ‘threat’ I’ve encountered within miles of the city was nothing but a small hilichurl camp.”

When you turn once again to face her from across the room, she’s looking down at the fruit in her hand, gently twisting its stem. “I’m hardly the one deserving of any credit for keeping it that way, though.”

You watch her for a moment before making your way over to where she’s perched. “I disagree.”

She looks up as you approach, head tilting to the side with a knowing smile. “Of course you do.”

Watching her return one apple to the basket and move to push it aside, you lean toward it, questioning her. “Any sunsettias left in there?”

She shakes her head with a small frown. “No, sorry love. We've got apples, pears, and the last of those bulle fruits you brought home the other day.”

You lean back and watch as the selection of three fruits she’d gathered in her lap dematerialize. “Eh, it’s fine. I’ll just grab one on the road.”

As the dogs finish their breakfast, and with Venti’s snacks stored away, you move to stand directly in front of the bard. Your hands reach out to toy with their unbraided locks, considering them. “…Thank you for agreeing to help out today.”

They seem a bit surprised by your words. “Why, of course! I’m always happy to lend you a hand with these things. Doubly so given that it’s for the church.”

Your soft tone gains a teasing edge. “Still, I won’t make you do any of the heavy lifting.”

They smile. “Oh? And here I was thinking you’d be putting me to work. How else will I pay for being such a terrible distraction this morning?”

You hum in feigned consideration, and the deep tone of the sound sends the smallest shiver up their spine. You don’t miss it.

Pressing a thigh between his knees, you gently push them apart beneath the loose fabric of his skirt, shifting to stand between them. Even from his vantage on the counter, he’s still not quite eye-to-eye with you. The way you curl a claw beneath his chin to tilt his head back makes his heartbeat kick up. You press your thumb against his lower lip, holding his sudden rapt attention.

“Oh, I’m sure I’ll find a better way to get my revenge. Have patience, love.”

You then abruptly break from the shared gaze, release your hold on him, and swiftly step back. Reaching to turn out the lights, you casually set off toward the front door. Rhythm and Rhyme follow behind, ready to go out. Venti makes a broken noise, stuttering out his indignation as he jumps down off the counter to catch up. “Hey–you–you can’t just tease me like that right before we leave!”

You chuckle as you slip your boots on. He comes to stand beside you, hands on his hips. Kindly offering his shoes to him, you grin. “Oh, I think I can.”

He pouts for a moment, but recovers easily enough, obediently slipping his shoes on with little more than a displeased grumble. You know he can take far more teasing than this, but still, you’re nothing if not weak to his display of defeat. When he finishes tying his shoes and stands, you catch him as he moves for the front door. Twirling him to face you, you lean down, planting a compromising kiss on his forehead. He raises up on his toes to press into the gesture, humming appreciatively.

Pulling back and appraising him, words slip from your lips that belie your attempt at embodying your harsh nature. “Sweet thing…”

“Hmm?” they hum, turquoise light flickering in their eyes.

You collect yourself before you can get carried away indulging them. “…You won’t shrivel up and blow away in the wind from just a little teasing. Now hush, and follow me, bard.”

They giggle, clearly having had their desired effect on you once again.

You step in front of them, opening the door and letting the dogs slip out first. Then gesturing for Venti to go next, they thank you, both of you playful in your polite manners.

Stepping out and closing the front door behind you, the dogs happily run down the porch stairs and into the expansive yard. Tubby rises from beneath the lid of her teapot, roused by the noise of your exit. You both bid the finch good morning and goodbye as you prepare to take your leave.

“Sorry to dash, but we’re already close to running late. Watch over the dogs while we’re gone, please!”

She spins in place, bobbing up and down.

“Of course, of course! You two be safe out there today!”

~

Materializing together at the Springvale waypoint, you take a moment to survey your surroundings. It’s a nice day, not too cold, and thankfully no rain to impede your travel. Venti pulls in a deep breath, sighing contentedly at the sight of her city across the expansive lake.

Walking to the edge of the small cliff and looking down, you see the transport balloon parked near the town’s entrance. You watch Olaf cinch a strap across a stack of crates, and when he notices your presence above, he waves, calling out his greetings. “Morning! Y’all are right on time, we’re just about done loading this up.”

You answer him, readying yourself to jump down. “Great! Can we help with anything?”

A voice you dread to hear calls out from behind you in answer. “Atlas over here’s got a request for you actually, if you don’t mind.”

You step back, turning to face Draff as he makes his way down from the houses above, carrying a box of his own. The one you presume to be Atlas trails behind him, cradling a smaller package. You do your best to maintain your cheerful disposition. “Oh, alright, sure! Let me come see.”

You retreat from the small cliff’s edge and walk back in the direction you’d come. Venti trails behind you. “See, darling, we’re ‘right on time’.”

You roll your eyes, dismissing her attempt to tease you over your punctuality concerns. “Yeah, yeah, but we haven't made it to the city yet. Anything could still happen.”

Leaving the cliff from where it merges onto the town's main road, you walk to meet them halfway. Coming to a stop beneath the windmill, you smile kindly in greeting. “What sort of request might this be?”

Atlas steps forward, presenting the package. You don’t recognize this person, which strikes you as slightly odd. You’re quite familiar with Mondstadt’s residents, even those residing outside of the main city. The young adult–if you had to guess–before you seems timid. Their attire is largely unassuming, typical of Mondstadt, but your gaze catches on the small Pyro vision adorning their wrist. It reminds you somewhat of Xiao’s, given its size and the way it’s inlaid into their bracelet. The sunlight glints off of its Sumerian frame, answering one of your unspoken questions and raising a few more.

They clear their throat quietly. “Hi, I'm Atlas. I, uhm, I don’t think we’ve met. I’ve heard of you, though! I mean–scarcely anyone in Teyvat hasn’t by now… but–oh, I’m rambling. I… I was hoping–if it’s not too much trouble–could you take this with you?”

You cross your arms behind your back, nodding to them politely. “It’s nice to meet you, Atlas. I’m–well–aha, it sounds like you already know of me.” You gesture to your left. “This is my partner, Venti.”

He grins with a small wave. “I’m a wandering bard!”

“You’ll scarcely find one of these two without the other trailing behind.” Draff comments to Atlas in a tone that you guess was meant to be lighthearted, adjusting the box in his grip.

Ignoring him in favor of surveying Atlas’s package, you nod. “I certainly don’t see why we can’t take this. There looked to still be room for it on the-”

They shake their head, softly interrupting. “Well–you see… I was actually hoping you could carry this one… by hand. Its contents are fragile, and valuable too! I… I know it’s asking extra of you, but I’d really prefer if it wasn’t strapped in with the rest. I’d hate for anything to happen to it…”

You open your mouth to respond but their nervous explanation continues.

“Not–not that I lack faith in your ability to get the transport to the city safely! Not at all! I know you’re more than capable for such a job, I just… I had to ask. It’s okay if not, though. If you can’t, I’ll just put it in with the rest…”

In spite of Draff’s lingering presence, your forced smile grows soft. “Hey, no, that’s okay! I completely understand. We can definitely keep that one separate.”

They visibly relax. “Oh, really?”

Venti steps forward. “Of course! I’m here to be an extra set of hands, so it’ll be no trouble to carry.” He puts a finger to his chin, leaning forward to inspect the package in his usual exaggerated manner. Looking up at them, he adds on. “Unless… you specifically wanted them to carry it?” He nods over to you as he asks.

They shake their head. “Oh, no, that’s fine! Either of you can carry it, I just didn’t want it possibly getting banged around with the rest of the crates.”

You notice Venti's shoulders drop just slightly, a subtle hint of suspicion leaving her. You imagine no one else even picked up on the change. Nobody watches her like you do, after all.

She nods happily. “It’s settled then!” She holds her hands out to take the box from them, and when they place it in her arms, she stills in thought. “…If you don’t mind me asking, what’s so special about this delivery? We are meant to take it to the church with the rest, yes?”

They hesitate just slightly, but nod. “Yes, yes, it’s my donation to the fundraiser. It’s just… fragile.” Venti carefully weighs it in their hands, and Atlas continues. “It’s bottled spring water. A… Springvale souvenir of sorts.”

Draff cuts in. “She made the bottles by hand. All decorative and whatnot. That’s what makes the package so special.”

Your interest is piqued. “Oh really?”

She nods. “I’m an amateur glassblower. It’s just a hobby. At least, for now…”

A voice comments down from above. “You’ve got the skill to make it into a living, I’m tellin’ ya.”

“Oh, I don’t know about all of that…” Atlas mumbles, looking down and kicking at a rock on the dirt path.

“I’m serious, girl. You don’t need a man to depend on! They’re nothin’ but dead weight! You can keep honing that craft of yours and make a killing off the glasswork.”

Draff scoffs. “Ugh, bards. Always sticking their noses into everybody’s business.”

Venti laughs good-naturedly. “We do have a habit of doing that!”

You look up and greet the eavesdropping bard standing on the cliff above you. “Hello, Myweiss.”

“Greetings, our dear Reaper of Romance! Wonderful weather for a beautiful song today, isn’t it?” Venti adds, clearly poking at her buttons.

She lowers her glasses and looks down upon you both with distaste. “Hello, lovebirds.” She spits the term like it’s an insult. In her eyes, you know it is.

Venti engages her playfully. “Myweiss. What have we ever done to you?”

She scowls. “A man such as yourself would never understand.”

He pouts. “Oh, c’mon, I think I can. After all, I’m hardly even a man!”

She doesn’t laugh at his odd rhyming joke, opting instead to step back from the edge with a huff and return to plucking at her lyre.

Atlas laughs awkwardly, and you step in to try and save this exchange. “So, you blew the glass bottles in there yourself! I can certainly see why you’d want them to stay safe, then.”

Atlas shrugs slightly. “Honestly, I’d be concerned for the package regardless of the glass. I bottled the local spring water in there, straight from the source! That stuff is blessed, you know?”

“Oh!” Venti perks up. “So you’re familiar with this town’s legendary fairy!”

Atlas nods, a serious expression on her face. “It’s more than just a legend. I truly believe in the fairy’s power.” She visibly falters, and quickly adds on. “I–I hope that isn’t insulting?”

Venti’s head cocks to the side. “Why would it be?”

“Well–just that I’m giving them to the church. I don’t know if they’ll take too kindly to a donation blessed by an outside entity… I know they’re very devoted to Barbatos. I–I truly don’t mean to be insulting! I just wanted to contribute when I heard about the fundraiser, and I can’t offer much, but I’m sort of good with glass? And that spring means a lot to me, so…” she trails off.

Venti’s confused expression shifts into one of kindness and understanding.

“Oh, you don’t need to worry about that at all. I promise! I can tell that this is a heartfelt donation, and I see no reason that the church would turn it away.” They pat the top of the package gently. “Barbatos isn’t the type of God to take offense to such an offering, either. If the church disagrees, I’d be willing to bet he’d come down and settle the matter personally.”

You fail to hide the smile on your face.

Atlas seems relieved. “Oh, you really think so? Well, thank you.” She turns to you. “Thank you both, actually! Oh goodness, I know all this talking has kept you longer than you’d have probably liked. I’ll–I’ll let you go now!” She bows her head and steps back from the group.

“It’s no trouble, really! We’re happy to help.” You assure her warmly.

“It was nice meeting you!” Venti adds.

“Oh, you too!” She smiles, giving a quick wave as she turns to leave, seeming eager to depart.

Draff grunts, impatiently adjusting his grip on the box he’s still holding. You fight the urge to roll your eyes, and put your best fake smile back on. “I assume you’re loading that on the transport? I can take it from here if you’d like me to.”

He nods. “Yeah, it’s my donation to the fundraiser. Selection of cured and fermented meats. Figure they oughta sell pretty well.” You hold your hands out to re-emphasize your offer, and he hands it off to you. “That’s mighty kind of you, thanks.”

“Oh, it’s no trouble.” You turn and lead the three of you down the path leading out of town.

As you walk, Draff comments. “I imagine that meat, or at least food, makes up a lot of our donations, I’m afraid. Makes me glad to know that people like Atlas are lending their own unique products too.”

Venti assures him. “You won’t find many people in the city that don’t love Springvale’s food! So I imagine that all of these donations will be widely appreciated regardless.”

~

Once the final box has been strapped in and the transport is ready to go, you bid farewell to Draff and allow Olaf to set the thing in motion. He accompanies you both down to the main road.

“Thanks again for doing this escort. Shouldn’t be much trouble, I’ve triple checked that everything’s in working order. Just needs to be guided through any turns, and…” he laughs. “Well, you certainly don’t need me to show you the ropes.” Leading the balloon out onto the main road, he then steps back, gesturing toward it. “It’s all yours!”

“Thank you! We’ll get everything there safe and sound, don’t worry.” You wave goodbye before turning to follow the balloon, Venti moving to the transport’s other side and following along beside you.

~

It’s a leisurely, peaceful trip, as you figured it would be. There’s hardly ever any real danger on the roads closest to the city, and that suits you just fine. There isn’t much to do with yourself though aside from following along the path, so you turn to Venti with an offer. “If that box gets heavy I can certainly carry it for you, you know.”

“Oh? Making good on your offer to do all the heavy lifting, huh?” He teases.

You huff. “I suppose I am.”

“Well, I appreciate it, but it really isn’t heavy. Besides, you need your hands free to protect me if some disaster befalls us on the path!”

You raise a brow, throwing him a look. “Protect you? What about the cargo?”

He feigns offense. “You’d prioritize these crates over me?”

You pretend to consider it. “I mean… I do take my work seriously…”

He gasps. “This is blasphemy!”

You snicker. “Oh no, you can’t just pull the God card on me like that, c’mon.”

They’d never genuinely hold their status over you, but they do love to pretend sometimes.

It’s a good thing that you love to play along.

They stick their nose up. “Why can’t I?”

“This stuff is for the church. Indirectly, that also means it’s for you. Shouldn’t you put your all into protecting it too?”

They think for a moment, and sigh. “I guess you’re right… but wait, that logic isn’t sound! It’s not really for me personally, it’s to raise money for the church itself! They offer a lot to the people of Mondstadt… and so… hmm…”

You look over at them with a question as they lose themself in contemplation. “What?”

“…I think I’ve talked myself out of my own conviction.”

You bark a laugh. “How so?”

“Well, like I said, the church offers a lot to Mondstadt… and they do it all in my name! My own role in the city is far from that crucial. What do I offer, a couple of drunken songs at the tavern every so often?”

You frown, shaking your head. “You're conflating Venti with Barbatos again, love. That’s not fair.”

She shrugs, casual. “It’s been a while since anyone’s heard from that lazy oaf of a God either.”

You side-step, reaching out and batting her on the shoulder with the back of your hand. “Hey. Who the hell taught you to talk about yourself like that?”

She looks over and smiles at you sadly. “Plenty of people feel that way. You just give me too much credit, dear.”

You hold her gaze. “Fuck those people. You don’t give yourself enough.”

She sighs, looking out at the road ahead. “Still. Even compared to my role as a God, those at the church are the ones doing the real work every day. The same goes for the Knights. That’s how I want things to be. This nation shouldn’t look to me for everything.”

She pauses, attention suddenly drawn to a nearby pond you're passing. A pair of small hydro slimes emerge from the water as they sense your approach, bouncing their way toward the road slowly. You pick up your pace and take one step off the road in their direction, but you don’t get any further before a strong gust of wind blows past you out of nowhere. It hits the slimes mid-bounce and sends them harmlessly rolling back into the pond with a small splash.

You glance back at Venti just in time to catch a bright teal light fading from the tips of her hair.

They keep walking, casually picking up from where they left off.

“I don’t want my children to be helpless without me. That type of dependency just isn’t freedom in my eyes.”

You quietly fall into step with them again, listening.

“This is a nation of people who fought for their own freedom. I want it to stay that way.”

You walk together in thoughtful silence for a little while.

When Venti next breaks it, their playful edge has returned. “So. All of that is simply to say that you should save the cargo. I can hold my own just fine.” They grin at you, and you mirror it back.

“Well, I’ve got good news for you.”

“Oh? And what’s that, love?”

You walk closer toward them, put one hand on their shoulder, and the other on the transport.

“If some unforeseen disaster does befall us before we make it there, I’m plenty strong enough to protect both of you.”

~

A little further down the road, you notice a sunsettia tree not far off the beaten path. Picking your pace up from a walk to a jog, you move past the transport and stray into the grass. You quickly pluck a few of the ripest-looking fruits from the tree with practiced ease. As Venti and the transport catch up to you, you turn and rejoin them on the road.

Dematerializing all but one of them, you contentedly bite into the remaining sweet fruit, beginning to satisfy your earlier craving. Venti follows suit, shifting the package to their hip and cradling it beneath one arm as they materialize an apple in the other hand. As the two of you eat your to-go breakfasts, they comment to you between bites.

“You know, the effect of Draff’s presence on you is never lost on me.”

“Nothing about me is ever lost on you, is it.” Your rhetorical question doesn’t hang in the air for long before you’re following it up. “I do hope it isn’t as obvious to everyone else as it is to you.”

“I don’t think it is,” Venti assures you. “It does make me wonder, though. Has anything recently transpired between you two? Or is it just…”

Her sentence trails off and you speak, filling in the rest of his question. “It’s just the same old wounds. Hardly even personal, you know. I just.. take it personally.”

“You picked up Diona’s disdain of him quite easily. I see you struggle to put it down even with the time that’s passed.” She notes, tone neutral and non-judgemental.

You nod. “It was damn near impossible not to. I care a lot about her, you know? Not to mention how much of myself I see in her…” You reach out a hand as the road turns, gently guiding the balloon along it. Your tone drops. “...And how much of my own father I see in Draff.”

Venti hums her understanding, giving you room to elaborate if you so choose. It’s rare that you mention the man, even to her.

“I know that Draff is trying to do better nowadays. Drink less, and be more of a father and less of a burden to her. I’ve heard. I’ve seen.” You acknowledge it with a certain tightness in your tone. “Still. The resentment I harbor for people like that? For people who’ve put their children through that? It feels impossible for me to let it go.” You sigh. “I know it’s probably not fair. I’m… sorry.”

Venti nods sagely. “You’ve no need to apologize, love. Certainly not to me, and not to them either, I think. I see you trying your best to be cordial. That’s all I believe would be fair to ask of you.” She moves to take another bite of her apple, but pauses with more to say. “A lot of people put you on a bit of a pedestal, what with your ever-growing reputation throughout Teyvat. But you shouldn’t feel pressured to live up to the… unrealistic expectations that come along with that. Everyone has their own hang-ups, and no one is nice all of the time.”

You turn to look at her with a half-smile. “Even you?”

Her voice lacks its usual weightlessness when she answers you.

“Yes. Even me.”

Taking another bite out of your sunsettia, your gaze drifts up off of her and lands on the sharp peak of Starsnatch Cliff, looming far off in the distance. Absently wiping fruit juice from the corner of your mouth, you're once again reminded that you've yet to witness the true extent of what this God is capable of.

A thoughtful silence falls over you both as you continue your trek to the city.

Additional Notes!

Title of the fic is from the song “Heaven In Hiding” by Halsey.

Title of this chapter is from the song “Oh! My Kingdom" by Buffalo Tales. You can find my commentary on this song choice over in the end notes of chapter 3 on Ao3.

Header Image by shraga kopstein on Unsplash

[branches-of-time]

Winter Coats [1/3]

Stop turning me into a saint.

Rosaria speaks with her back to him, voice dripping with sarcasm as she adjusts her accessories in the small mirror hanging from the far wall. “Oh, because you’re Barbatos, right? The God of Freedom himself, absent for nearly five hundred years, manifested in the flesh just to steal his own Holy Lyre from his own church. All for the sake of some ‘grand, nation-saving plan’ that he still refuses to elaborate on, for reasons unknown.” She turns to face him, plucking the cigarette from between her lips and resting a hand on her hip. “Is that right?”

He nods, genuine and enthusiastic. “Yeah!”

She laughs, nodding her head and dismissing him with a less-than-subtle roll of the eyes. “Okay Venti, sure. Whatever you say.”

His smile softens, tilting his head and eyeing her with a soft sigh. “One of these days you’re gonna believe me.”

--- --- ---

One fateful night, Venti and Diona find themselves alone together in the Favonius Cathedral. An unlikely bond begins to form. Meanwhile, Rosaria spends the evening reconsidering her stance on the enigmatic bard’s claimed identity.

Pairings: Venti & Diona (platonic) | Venti & Rosaria (platonic)

Word Count: 7,345

Contains: [alcoholism] [smoking (cigarettes)] [angst] [crying] [emotional hurt/comfort] [a lil bit of swearing] [food] [eating] [self-deprecation] [implied/referenced sexual harassment] [questionably described church service] [questionably taught pipe organ lesson] [bad parent Draff] [protective Rosaria] [implied Vampire Rosaria] [sad Diona] [sad & cryptic & protective Venti] [Venti as Barbatos] [Venti-centric] [Wind Wisps] [not canon compliant (no major changes just some small inconsistencies)] [written prior to Version 5.6] [songfic]

A/Ns: The content warnings are for the fic as a whole, not all aspects will be present in every part.

As stated, this is a songfic! Title and verses written throughout the fic are from the song- "Winter Coats" by Aaron West and The Roaring Twenties.

[Part 1 (you are here)] [Part 2 (currently unreleased)] [Part 3 (currently unreleased)]

I saw my Sister lay in bed, chain-smoking cigarettes. The window open, November spilling in.

Tip-toeing along the concrete in his loafers, Venti avoids stepping on any of this season’s curled, browning fallen leaves as he slinks around the outskirts of the cathedral.

His stealth is largely innate, a mere byproduct of his nature. To a stranger it makes little sense, how the bard famous for being Angel’s Share’s ‘life of the party’ can carry himself so quietly. But to the few who know him well, Venti is nothing if not multifaceted, and at times, straight-up contradictory.

While he’s certainly been known to wander aimlessly, there’s an intent to his current behavior as he follows his nose to the source of a subtle scent on the wind.

His steps slow as the scent grows stronger, stopping entirely as he comes upon a half-open window near the back of the church. Bracing his hands against the wall and cautiously peering around the frame, he’s only mildly disappointed to find exactly what—and who—he’d suspected.

Rosaria, unaware of his presence, lies inverted atop her bed. The nun’s heels are propped up on the headboard, ankles crossed. Gravity tugs on the loose fabric of her slit skirt, bunched up around her hips. Her right hand cradles the back of her head in lieu of a pillow, silver claws disappearing into her sangria hair.

Blowing a thick cloud of smoke toward the ceiling, she flicks the cigarette in her left hand where it dangles off the side of the bed. Ashes scatter, decorating the bare stone floor below.

Venti frowns at the sight, but makes no move to intervene, attention shifting to the drab state of her room. Aside from the bare necessities that the church itself provides, it seems she’s made little effort to bring life into the space even after all her time here.

A few books lay stacked on the corner of her small desk, with a pen and paper spread across the middle. A half-written letter, if he had to guess, but he can’t make out the script from this distance and angle.

He supposes it’s none of his business anyhow.

Her polearm propped in the corner is the closest thing the room has to a statement piece, alongside a… significant number of knives and daggers spread across the top of her dresser.

The chilled late-November air spilling into the room doesn’t seem to bother her, if her mattress sporting nothing more than a single thin blanket is anything to go by. The sight of her Cryo Vision shimmering on the bedside table silently reassures him that she’s probably fine, but it still saddens him to see a bed so bare, regardless of one’s tolerance for the cold. This is a church, not a prison.

A few photos hang on the far wall above her bed, and though he squints to try and make out the details, the age of the photos themselves is what stands out the most. Most of them seem to have been taken with a much older kamera than what’s in use today, lacking color and yellowing at the curled edges. And… wait—is one of them a painting?

His eyes flick down toward motion in the room as she raises the cigarette to her lips, and he once again finds himself unable to overlook the marked purple undertone of her pale skin.

He thinks to himself that maybe the room isn’t lifeless after all. Perhaps it’s simply filled with her own version of it.

Looking down to his hands gripping the window frame, he stares at his bare nails, and the subtle yet distinct teal shade of Anemo energy glowing from beneath them that betrays his disguise.

He’s in no position to judge.

A soft knock comes from the other side of her door, followed by the deaconess’s familiar voice. “Rosaria, I hate to bother you ahead of schedule, but Jilliana is under the weather today and I was wondering if you could help us take over her duties. Rudolf kindly offered to stop by and help, but I think he’s got his hands full enough taking care of Jill and Lily at home. I’m trying to split the work up between the remainder of us, so could you lend a hand with preparing the communion?”

The nun’s right hand comes up to grab at her hair in visible frustration, but her voice comes out level. “Yeah, sure, uh… just give me a minute to finish… getting dressed.”

Barbara’s smile is audible. “Oh, thank you so much! There’s no need to rush though, we’ve still got a good while to finish preparing for the service today. Take your time!”

Rosaria flicks her cigarette once more. “Will do.”

As Barbara’s heels can be heard cheerfully clicking away down the hall, Rosaria stretches and groans before moving to sit up on the edge of the bed with a speed that contrasts her reluctant demeanor.

To Venti’s terrible luck, the first place her eyes land once righting herself is the open window, and subsequently, they catch the distinct green of his hat as it disappears below the ledge.

Huffing, she stands, swiftly clearing the short distance between her bed and the outer wall. She shoves the window further open in order to lean out and hopefully catch a glance as to which direction the bard fled. So, she’s mildly surprised to find him crouched directly below, making no effort to flee, and little effort to hide.

Reaching down, she pinches the edge of his hat between her thumb and a metallic claw, snatching it up before he has time to react.

She addresses him as she does so, and he exclaims his displeasure with her theft at the same time, both talking over one another.

“Bard, what are you doing out—here…”

“Hey! That’s mine! You can’t—just…”

As she quickly pulls the hat in through the window, her attention is immediately caught by its unusual weight. Or, well, resistance might be a better word. Not to mention that it’s suddenly making far more noise than one would expect to come from mere fabric.

Both of their sentences trail off as she inspects the hat and finds two wind wisps chirping away at her in a language she can't parse, but a displeased tone that she can.

Venti rises from his ineffective hiding spot and leans in through the window to retrieve his stolen property, still dangling from the slightly stunned nun’s grasp. The wisps have an agenda of their own though, and fly out of the hat before he can stop them. They team up in an attempt at retaliation for being disturbed, but given their size and semi-intangibility it amounts to little more than a comical nuisance.

Venti succeeds in retrieving the hat at least, and with a hand once again free, Rosaria bats at the wisps as they flit around her head. Frustratingly, her hand goes straight through them, and she looks to Venti for assistance.

The bard smiles, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not nice to steal other people’s things, Rosaria.”

Grasping uselessly at the wisp that’s begun tugging on her hair, she counters him. “It’s also not nice to spy on people in the privacy of their own bedrooms, Venti.”

He hums in consideration of her point. “True, but I would argue that an open window with no curtain doesn’t lend itself very well to privacy.”

She levels him with a dead-eyed stare as the other wisp flies quickly toward her, bouncing off her forehead and rebounding into its friend, sending them both off toward different corners of the room.

Venti stifles a laugh, shaking his head and taking on a tone of lighthearted reassurance. “They have quite short attention spans, I’m sure they’ll stop in no time.”

Fortunately for the nun, he was telling the truth, and their apparent distractable nature proves itself a blessing. As they recover from their disorientation, they find themselves more interested in exploring their new surroundings than they are in continuing to bother her.

She sighs, tense shoulders dropping and turning her attention back to the diminutive man outside her window. “Returning to my initial question, what are you and your little minions doing here?”

Dodging the question, he feigns offense. “‘Minions?’ Why, those are my friends, thank you very much!”

She doesn’t humor his attempt at diversion, turning to reach for a match and relighting her cigarette instead, the thing having gone out amidst all the commotion. Returning to the window, she takes a long draw before leaning down, blowing smoke through the opening and down into her voyeur’s face.

He closes his eyes, unbothered, letting it dissipate in the wind before finally offering an answer to her question. “I smelled smoke and got curious. Figured I’d see if I could find out who’d be bold enough to do it on church grounds.”

She squints at him in appraisal. “You’re too nosy for your own good.”

He shrugs. “Hasn’t gotten me killed yet!”

“Mhm, yet.” She ominously states as she turns, making her way back to the bed.

He watches her stocking-clad feet deftly avoid the scattered ashes as he allows her response to hang in the air.

She slots what remains of the cigarette between her lips, freeing both hands to reach for her shoes beneath the bed. That doesn’t stop her from speaking to him as she does so. “Well, you’ve caught the culprit. What are you gonna do? Turn me in to Victoria? Maybe rat me out to Barbara so she’ll nag me some more about the ‘impact on my health’?”

“Oh, c’mon now. I’m nosy, sure, but I’m no snitch! I wouldn’t do that to you and you know it.” He crosses his arms on her windowsill, leaning in. “She’s right about the impact on your health, though. Those things are no good for you. They’ll take years off your life.”

“…I’m not very worried about that.” Her high heel clicks sharply against the stone beneath it as she slips her foot down snugly into its boot.

Venti frowns.

“Besides,” she lifts her head up to visibly address him as she pulls her other boot on. “It’s not like you don’t bum one or three off me every time we meet at Angel’s Share.”

The corner of his mouth twitches up as he holds her accusatory gaze. “Hey, I never said I wasn’t a hypocrite.”

He catches a split-second smile on her lips before she breaks from the shared gaze, standing and making her way across the room to her wardrobe. “It’s not like anyone here would believe anything you say anyways, after that incident of yours with the Holy Lyre.” Opening the left door, she reaches for her headpiece. “Didn’t they, like, ban you? You’re pushing your boundaries even being this close to the church.”

He’s at least got it in him to sound a little ashamed at the mention of that incident. “Yeeeaaah, I kinda am. But I hold firm in my stance that I had very good reason for steal—uhm… borrowing it.”

She speaks with her back to him, voice dripping with sarcasm as she adjusts her accessories in the small mirror hanging from the far wall. “Oh, because you’re Barbatos, right? The God of Freedom himself, absent for nearly five hundred years, manifested in the flesh just to steal his own Holy Lyre from his own church. All for the sake of some ‘grand, nation-saving plan’ that he still refuses to elaborate on, for reasons unknown.” She turns to face him, plucking the cigarette from between her lips and resting a hand on her hip. “Is that right?”

He nods, genuine and enthusiastic. “Yeah!”

She laughs, nodding her head and dismissing him with a less-than-subtle roll of the eyes. “Okay Venti, sure. Whatever you say.”

His smile softens, tilting his head and eyeing her with a soft sigh. “One of these days you’re gonna believe me.”

She encases the smoldering cigarette butt in a thin layer of Cryo before dropping it to melt in a small ashtray by her bed. “Yeah, maybe when the Abyss freezes over.”

He huffs, pivoting to change the topic. “You don’t even need me to rat out your sacrilegious behavior. You’re gonna out yourself before long if you leave those ashes all over the floor and that tray sitting in plain sight, y’know?”

She pulls a small black key from her pocket, spinning it from its short chain on her finger. “That’s what locks are for.” Returning to the window, she props a hand against the frame, towering over him now. “And if you wanna talk sacrilegious, I think drunkenly proclaiming to be Lord Barbatos himself just to get your hands on the church’s most prized instrument counts too, don’t you, bard?”

The wind wisps regain interest in the conversation upon the repeated mentions of Barbatos’ name, floating closer to the window and chirping excitedly. It’s times like these where Venti finds himself glad that only he can understand what they say.

Using his hat as a makeshift net, he reaches in through the window to scoop them up once they fly within his reach. “I’m telling you Rosaria, I was completely sober!”

She watches him catch his little… friends. “I admire the commitment to your story, I’ll give you that much.”

He situates the hat back atop his head, smiling up at her. “I’ll take it.”

She shoos him away from the window, moving to close it. “Yeah, yeah. It’s time for you and your annoying little friends to go find someone else to bother. I have work to do.”

He takes a step back, maintaining his relentless positivity. “And very important work it is! Don’t let me keep you. I’ll see you at the service!”

As he begins to take his leave, her flat tone almost gives way to her sudden confusion. “I will not be seeing you, because you aren’t allowed in here.”

He turns back to her with a grin. “I said I’ll be seeing you, silly! I never said you’d see me.”

He gives her a quick wave before disappearing around the back corner of the church, and she closes the window in a long moment of thoughtful silence.

--- --- ---

After a brief consultation with all of the nearby wisps to be assured that he’s seen by no one, Venti steps out of existence behind the church, and directly into the building’s basement store-room.

He’s got a good bit of time to kill before today’s service starts, might as well do it somewhere with free food.

Passing by the small wine rack with a lingering gaze, he knows better than to think he could lift such a valuable item and have it go unnoticed. Tempting as the bottles may be, he won’t have one of the hardworking church members taking the fall for the sake of his own addiction. He isn’t that far gone, he firmly reminds himself.

Walking over to the food-storage section, his fingertips dance along the shelves before grabbing the smallest container of dried apple slices he can find. Twisting the lid off, he pops one in his mouth and chews, nonchalantly at first, then contemplatively. Illuminating his braids to better see, he turns the jar over in his hands and frowns. Someone must have forgotten to mark these as being cinnamon-sugar dusted, and he feels a pang of guilt for accidentally taking some of the good ones.

He sighs, looking at the broken air-tight seal.

Can’t put them back now.

He rationalizes to himself that he is the Archon that this church worships, so one might see it as a… tithe of sorts. Not that he himself has done much of anything to deserve it. Still, with how unconditionally a perplexing percentage of this nation continues to worship him, he figures the occasional food-tax he lifts from the store-room pales in comparison to the too-kind offerings he’d be guiltily accepting were he walking the city streets as Barbatos himself.

Conscience somewhat cleared, he shakes a handful of slices into his palm and de-materializes the rest for later. With his lunch—and possibly his dinner—now obtained, he silently traipses between the shelves, taking stock of what’s changed since his last visit down here.

“They’re running low on dried meat.” A voice from beneath his hat helpfully informs him.

Venti cringes, a hand rushing up to gently press on the beings under the fabric. He whispers to them, not through spoken word, but within his mind. “Inside voice, please.”

They both silently respond in tandem. “Oh, right. Sorry.”

He playfully rustles them around, uncaring of the bird’s nest it’s making of his hair. “It’s okay.” As they wiggle around suppressing their chipper laughter, he lets up, allowing them to collect themselves. Once they’re somewhat calm again, he questions them. “Would I be correct to assume that the meat shortage falls on Springvale?”

They answer him in sync as they huddle together, interlocking tiny arms beneath their capes. “Yes, you would.”

“Might the blame fall on a… particular drunken cat-man?”

Snickering, the bolder of the two replies. “Yeah, and for once that isn’t you!”

The other wisp gives its mouthy partner a swift little kick in the rear, and the bard beneath them sighs as they begin to tousle, muttering to himself. “I never should’ve tried that potion Sucrose gave me…”

“To answer you properly,” the more reserved wisp interjects while thumping the head of its bolder counterpart, “Yes. Draff hasn’t been… on top of his duties lately.”

Venti lets the wisps' brief wrestling match play out before he questions them further, idly organizing some containers on a shelf to pass the time. Once they’ve settled, he inquires as to the hunter’s whereabouts while he turns the item’s labels to all face the same direction. “Where is he right now?”

“In his bedroom,” says one.

“On the floor,” says the other.

“Sleeping,” they both add.

Venti breathes a humorless laugh. “It’s the middle of the afternoon.”

“He was out in the woods all night.”

“Did he get any hunting done?”

“No, just a lot of drinking,” the reserved wisp objectively informs.

The bolder one laughs. “He sat in one spot for so long that the boars actually started approaching him. He had the opportunity of a lifetime, and all he did was start venting to them. It was funny at first, but then he got mean, going on and on about why his, uhm… ‘bitch of a wife’ left… so then we all felt kinda… sad. Most of us left after that.”

Guilt begins to weigh Venti’s heart down. “I’m sorry you had to witness that.”

The bold wisp replies before it can think any better of it. “It’s okay. Nothing we haven’t seen from you before!”

The other wisp is quick to clarify, slapping a hand over the other’s mouth, as if that would do anything to prevent their telepathic voice from being heard. “The drinking part! Y’know—in the woods, telling funny stories to animals… that kinda stuff. Not the mean part. You never get mean.”

“Y-yeah!” the bold one clarifies. “You’re a happy drunk! Or… a sad one, sometimes. But I really don’t think you’ve got a mean bone in your body.”

Another harmless kick to the rear. “You idiot, he doesn’t have any bones. Not any real ones, at least. It’s just Anemo energy in there… like you and me.”

Venti appreciates the attempt at damage control, and he’d laugh at their antics if his heart weren’t already sinking.

They’re all quiet for a minute, before Venti redirects his attention to Draff. “If he was venting-to-prey levels of drunk, I’m surprised he even made it home before he passed out.”

“You can thank Diona. She’s the one who found him and took him home. Again. The bedroom doorway was as far as she could get him before he collapsed though…” one wisp trails off and the other continues. “Seems like his knees are giving out on him in his advancing age, though I’ve never heard him admit it. She brought him a pillow and blanket from the bed, sat a glass of water nearby and left him there.”

Venti passes beneath a few braids of garlic, and pictures the little cat-girl attempting to haul a grown, drunken man twice her size up into bed. “I don’t blame her. He should be grateful that she even continues to help him home at all.”

His silent steps halt in front of the grain shelf, and his brows furrow. “The rice is running low too?”

“It hasn’t been the best year for Liyue’s crops,” one wisp answers.

“Something to do with a Ley Line disorder…” the other ponders.

Venti sighs. “Mm. Isn’t it always...”

The bold wisp’s voice gains a teasing edge. “I hear that your beloved Traveler is looking into it.”

He doesn’t even try to fight the fond smile that warms his expression at the mention of them. “Oh? Then I’m confident that Liyue’s crops will thrive again soon.”

“You put so much faith in them.”

Venti bites into another apple slice. “It’s well deserved. They’re immensely capable.”

“And they’re cute~”

He gently squashes down on the top of his hat again. “Hush.”

And they do. All is quiet for a while as Venti wanders about the darkened room, eating the last of his paltry lunch and listening to the footsteps and faint voices from the floor above.

I made a cross over my head. I dipped my fingertips in the calcified green holy water dish.

Moving past the food and over to the church’s other assortment of belongings, he stops at the sight of an old Holy Water font, sitting atop a few crates propped against the wall.

Illuminating his braids once again, he leans in, admiring the detail of the craftsmanship. It’s seen better days, obviously retired to the basement after countless years of use, replaced by a shiny new replica currently residing near the church’s entrance. Still, Venti’s gaze can't help but linger on his likeness, forged out of the metal comprising the back of the font. It’s an impressive miniature replica of his Statue of The Seven, likely only retired due to years of weathering and the green oxidation overtaking the original copper.

The ironic symbolism isn’t lost on him, that the shade of green forming over the statue isn’t far off from matching the cape currently draped over his shoulders.

“Guess we’re both down here where we belong, aren’t we…”

The statue doesn’t respond to his musings.

Reaching out, he runs a gentle finger along the silhouette of what he once was, then down over the calcified deposits lining the bowl beneath. He imagines the countless times his children dipped their fingers in it before crossing themselves in his name.

It occurs to him that for all the times he’s witnessed the ritual, it’s been quite a while since he last felt what it’s like to participate.

Lifting his hand from the empty bowl, he slowly moves up to touch his forehead, then down to his chest, fingertips landing in the center of the Archon mark that hides beneath the fabric of his clothes. He then moves to touch his left shoulder, then his right, finally bringing both hands to hover before his chest, fingertips just shy of touching.

He stands motionless in the dark, quiet room, bearing resemblance to his statues scattered across the land.

He feels no closer to God.

He lets his hands drop to his sides and as the seconds turn into minutes, his mind offers up the question that he often finds himself trying to drown out at the bar.

What have you done to deserve such reverence?

He listens in on the hustle and bustle from above as a selection of his most devoted followers gather in preparation to worship him.

I took pity on your battered soul and never let you in.

Growing bored, the bolder of the two wisps wiggles out from beneath Venti’s hat, and their voice returns to his mind. “One of the least devoted too, if you’re counting Rosaria.”

Attention drifting away from his growing urge to cry, Venti reaches out and pokes the wind wisp in the belly. “Reading my thoughts again, you little voyeur?”

Hovering back out of reach, the wisp teases him. “Well, y’know what they say: The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree!”

Discontent with being alone, their partner leaves the hat-nest too. “Why don’t you just prove yourself to her already? Doesn’t her disbelief bother you?”

Venti shakes his head. “It really doesn’t. I’m quite content with our friendship as it is, and I’m in no rush to shake up that dynamic.”

“Her lack of devotion isn’t an insult?”

He scoffs. “Far from it. I think it’s admirable. Not to discredit the valuable service that any of the Sisters provide, but I think there’s something to be said about someone doing work out of the goodness of their heart, rather than out of devotion to some deity.”

“‘Goodness of their heart’? That thing in her chest is cold as ice!” The bold one exclaims.

Venti hums. “Her words may cut as sharp as the dagger strapped to her thigh, but with time I believe you’ll come to find that her actions speak far louder.”

“She’s killed people, Venti.” The wisp deadpans.

He laughs, but it’s hollow. “As have I. And in most of those cases, we’ve done so for the exact same reason. The protection of Mondstadt and the children within.” He turns on his heel, finally breaking away from his statuesque stance in favor of pacing the floor. “As for the other cases? Well, far be it from me to judge a woman for what she’s had to do to survive.”

The wisps follow him in silence as he continues. “Sometimes freedom must be fought for. Sometimes the oppressor must die.” He stops in front of a stack of metallic communion plates, catching his reflection by the light of his still-glowing braids. He stares hard at his imitation of the young man he once knew. “Sometimes the oppressed die too.”

He blinks hard, tearing his gaze away. “I don’t hold her past against her. Though I don't know for sure if she’d say the same for me. For the real me. So I’d say it’s for the best that I don’t drag her in on this poorly kept secret of mine. If one day she comes to believe in me of her own accord, then so be it, but I’m not gonna perform some ‘act of God’ just for the sake of convincing her. It does feel good to have let a few people know who I really am, but at the same time…”

His nails dig into his palms as he forces himself to walk away from his reflection. “…I’d hate to lose another friend.”

I feel like a lost winter coat in a county church’s basement, where I wept.

He only makes it three steps away before bright, teal tears begin to run down his cheeks. A few of them drip down before he thinks to catch them, hitting the stone floor below and leaving small splatters of luminescent, concentrated Anemo energy behind.

The wisps rush to both of his sides, but as they begin to fret over their Queen, they all three register the sound of the basement door opening. The sharp clicks of a familiar set of heels grow louder as they make their way down the stairs, and Venti’s body begins to dissipate.

De-materializing his clothes and reverting to his wisp form, he makes for the closest hiding spot with the others on his tail.

They all manage to bury themselves in an open crate of clothes, items from the church’s lost-and-found that went unclaimed. Holding his metaphorical breath, Venti prays that today isn’t the day that the church planned to give them away.

The footsteps grow louder as they approach, and then, blessedly, quieter as they pass by the three wisp’s little hiding spot.

Rosaria’s quiet muttering can just barely be heard from beneath the thick winter coat they’ve buried themselves beneath. “How in the hell does that kid have so much energy?” Recollection of Barbara’s earlier request suggests that she’s come down to retrieve the communion plates. “What’s she so excited about anyway? It’s the same damn ritual every single service, and she’s got to be getting sick of singing the same songs over and o—ver…” Her annoyed voice stutters and trails off, leaving the basement silent again for a moment.

Then, her voice again, brief and confused. “The fuck?”

Venti hears the rustle of her clothes, various metallic accessories briefly clinking against one another, and then… nothing.

Far too many seconds of uninterrupted nothing.

Unable to fight his curious nature, coupled with the small storm of unpleasant emotions within him, he wiggles as stealthily as he can up out of the clothes, silently asking his friends to stay behind.

Peeking his tiny hooded head over the edge of the crate just enough to see out, he finds Rosaria exactly where he’d pictured her to be. Crouched where he’d stood moments ago, she stares down at the shimmering Anemo graffiti he’d unintentionally left on the floor. Eyeing it critically, she extends a pointed finger down toward it, cautiously scratching at the largest splat with her index claw.

“Liquid… Anemo? …How…”

Her body stills as a thought seems to come to her, and she lifts her head up to survey the room. Venti’s heart skips a beat when her gaze passes over his hiding spot, though fortunately for him it’s quite dark in the room and he’s currently too small to be noticed anyhow.

Feeling eyes on her yet unable to sense anyone’s presence, the nun huffs a frustrated sigh before turning her attention back below her. Cryo forms along the length of her index claw, and she lowers it once again to make contact with the odd substance still seeping into the cracks of the stone.

She expects it to freeze, so when it goes up in a sudden burst of snow, she flinches, recoiling slightly. Watching the tiny flakes fall to the floor and dissipate, her brows furrow. “Volatile…” she observes, reaching down to another splatter and repeating the experiment. She doesn’t flinch this time, simply watching the small cloud of elemental snow scatter with a perplexed expression.

She repeats the experiment a few more times until no more Anemo splatters remain, and all of the residual elemental snow has dissolved. Staring hard at the floor for a moment longer, she then shakes her head and stands with a quiet groan. “I don’t get paid enough to deal with this shit.”

Hands on her hips, she surveys the room once more. As she does so, the deaconess’s voice chimes down from above. “You alright down there Sister Rosaria? Having trouble finding anything?”

She rolls her eyes at Barbara’s attempt to kindly hurry her back upstairs. She calls back up the stairwell as she gathers the plates in one arm. “Nah, I’ve got it. Be right there.”

Venti watches her cross the floor in a few long strides, headed for the food storage. She passes the garlic braids, pauses to brace the plates with her opposite hand, and sneezes, the sound bouncing off the walls of the otherwise silent room.

“Oh, no! Don’t tell me you’re coming down with something too!” The concerned healer calls out, poking her head around the corner of the staircase.

Rosaria eyes her from over her shoulder as she grabs a container of communion wafers off the shelf. “I’m fine Barbara, I promise. It’s just… dusty down here.”

“Well, at least let me help you carry all of that!” She trots down the stairs, curly blonde pigtails bouncing with the movement.

Returning to meet her at the base of the stairs, Rosaria carefully hands over the stack of plates. “You sure you’ve got it?” The nun questions her skeptically.

“Of course!” The bubbly girl reassures her, hugging them to her chest.

Rosaria turns and walks to the wine rack nearby, grabbing a bottle by the neck and nestling it in the crook of her arm beside the crackers. “What’d you have me come down here for if you were just gonna follow me anyways?”

“Well,” Barbara explains politely, “I didn’t plan on following you, but you were, uhm, taking a little longer than I expected. I began to worry that someone had misplaced the plates… or something.”

Rosaria returns and nods upward, silently ushering the chatty girl up the stairs. “No, everything was in its place. I just got distracted.”

“Distracted? By what?”

Their voices fade as they make their way up.

The nun’s words come out haunted and contemplative, exaggeratedly so. “I don’t really know… it just… felt like I wasn’t alone down there, y’know?”

“Oh, Rosaria! You’re just trying to scare me again, aren’t you? And right before Mass, too! The audacity!” Barbara exclaims.

Rosaria’s laughter tumbles down the stairs, and she closes the door behind her.

Venti and the wisps remain in their crate of clothes, the others wiggling up to rest atop the old jacket alongside him, communicating amongst themselves.

“Do you think she saw you?”

“What was she doing?”

“Why’d she go quiet?”

“Why does she curse so much?”

“Does it feel colder in here now to you, or is it just me?”

Their questions pass straight through Venti’s mind as the slightly larger wisp stares at the spot Rosaria had just been crouched in.

There’s nothing left there to see, all evidence of his briefly escaped emotions having been successfully erased.

But he can’t get the word she said out of his mind.

Volatile.

“…Just like a storm.” He thinks to himself, and his fellow wisps grow quiet at the weight of his self-loathing tone.

Reading the room for once, his friends concur that perhaps their myriad of questions can wait a little while.

Drifting over to each of his sides, they cuddle up against him, surrounding him in a warm, familial embrace. They remain like that for a good long while, nestled down into someone’s lost winter coat.

--- --- ---

After riding out his emotional tempest, he finds himself reluctant to leave the warm nest that he now finds himself in.

Yawning and stretching out his little limbs, he fights the temptation of sleep as it calls to him.

Disturbed by his motion, the wisp to his left grumbles. “Five… five more minutes…”

“In ‘five more minutes’ we’ll all be asleep,” Venti counters lightheartedly.

“What’d be so bad about that?”

“Nothing, necessarily… but it sounds like the service will be starting soon and I did have plans of attending today.”

The wisp perks up. “Oh? So you weren’t just being needlessly cryptic for the fun of it earlier when you told Rosaria that you’d be seeing her?”

Venti laughs. “Not this time, no.”

Their conversation stirs the wisp to his right. “I don’t wanna get up though…”

Venti wiggles out from between the two, fluttering his cape and stretching his limbs. “Neither of you are obligated to accompany me, you know? You’re both free to do as you please! But as for me, I’m heading upstairs to find a good vantage point.”

The two wisps huddle together in the warm indent that Venti left in the plush coat, responding in tandem. “We think we’ll rest here for a while. Maybe catch up with you later?”

Venti smiles as he hovers around them, bunching the fabric of the coat up into a proper little nest. “Stay here as long as you’d like.” He pats them both on the head. “But don’t blame me if you’re awoken by one of the Sisters shooing you out of here!” He playfully warns them, though he knows the odds of that happening this evening are slim, and they wouldn’t be in danger regardless.

“We’ll take our chances…” they both mutter, half asleep already.

While not everyone is fond of their playful nature, most of the church members view the wisps’ presence as a good omen, touting that they’re ‘envoys of Barbatos that watch over and protect us’.

As Venti quietly floats away, he supposes that such a description isn’t too far off the mark.

I can’t believe that I’m here again.

Materializing his wisp form in the nave, Venti hovers near the ceiling, taking in the crowd below. It seems the final preparations have been made, the congregation beginning to filter into the large room.

He’d best find himself a seat then.

As he flits about between the tall columns, he runs into a few wisps that have already settled in, waving enthusiastically as they recognize his presence. He returns the acknowledgement, giggling at the sight of a particular pair who have draped themselves over the arms of a chandelier like wet rags, gossiping away over the murmur of the growing attendance below.

He seats himself atop one of the columns nearest the back, swinging his little legs as they dangle off the ledge of its capital. He eyes the door, curious to see just who all might attend this evening.

There wasn’t anything particularly special about today’s Mass, nor could Venti explain his random urge to attend. The bard simply follows his heart, traipsing wherever the winds guide him. And today, that landed him here, trespassing in his own church.

He wasn’t one to attend services often, even prior to the Holy Lyre incident and his subsequent banning from the property. While he quite enjoyed the music and the uplifting environment, something about attending too many of his own worship services felt… conceited. Not that being worshiped was ever his reason for attending in the first place, but it just felt wrong on principle.

It was mere curiosity that led him here for the first time after he’d awoken from his extended slumber. He’d simply wanted to see what all the fuss was about. He expected his people to grow away from him over time, figuring that as generations passed, the stories of his deeds would be told less and less, eventually lost to time.

He was okay with that. Desired it, actually. He wanted this nation to be self-governed, independent, not hanging on the every word of some higher power. And he certainly wasn’t fond of the immense responsibility that came along with being that higher power.

He never wanted to be made into a saint.

He wanted to be human, in all of their gloriously flawed nature.

He didn’t assume that his five-century absence would be enough to entirely erase Barbatos’ legacy, but he sure hadn’t expected it to have the opposite effect either.

They say that absence makes the heart grow fonder, and he was shocked to find that sentiment rang true. The Church of Favonius was as lively as ever, far from the image he’d formed in his mind of a neglected, hollow building. While it was partially due to the church’s multi-purpose nature, serving as the central hub for many community-based events as well as the city’s de facto emergency room, he was shocked to find regular worship service still in practice too.

When the first Sunday rolled around after he awoke, he wandered in through the front doors and found himself greeted by quite the crowd.

Sister Gotelinde was the first to address him, appraising him with a warm smile. “Hello! How nice to see a fresh face! Are you…” her eyes fell to his heavily decorated Anemo Vision, sporting the signature wings of Mondstadt, “…new around here?”

Still settling into his assumed identity and a bit rusty when it came to the whole ‘socializing’ thing, he stumbled over his words before eventually finding his footing. “No—well, I mean… uh, kinda? I… don’t come into the city much. I’m a bard! A wandering bard. I’ve heard quite a bit about this church though, figured it was finally time I come see it for myself.”

If his story was anything less than convincing, she didn’t let it show. “Well then, on behalf of the Church of Favonius, allow me to welcome you. There will always be a seat for you here.” Gesturing toward the pews, she continues. “You’re just in time, service will be starting soon! If you’d like to attend, that is. Or, perhaps you came here seeking assistance? Is there anything we could help you with?”

A little overwhelmed, he takes a moment to find his words, still taken aback by the growing crowd full of faces both familiar and new at the same time. “Uh, no… no I don’t need anything, thank you. I just wanted to… observe? I think. Is… that weird?”

Her expression is as soft and kind as her voice when she shakes her head. “Not weird at all! Everyone is welcome here, regardless of their reason for visiting.”

“As long as that reason poses no threat.” A cold voice chimes in from behind him and he jumps, twisting around to face the source.

A tall, imposing person stands a little too close for comfort, and he tilts his head back to meet their lifeless gaze. He doesn’t recognize the lineage in their features, and something about them doesn’t seem quite… right. “Uhm… pardon?”

Sister Gotelinde addresses the stranger before they can speak. “Easy now, Rosaria. We don’t want to go scaring off a perfectly harmless stranger! I certainly don’t believe that this boy poses us any threat.”

Rosaria narrows her scrutinizing gaze down at the ‘boy’ below her. “Looks can be deceiving.”

Addressing Venti, Gotelinde continues before he can correct her on his implied age. “This is Sister Rosaria, you’ll have to forgive her, she is… awfully protective.”

Sister Rosaria. Huh.

“I’d introduce you properly, but I’ve yet to ask your name!”

Looking between the two women, he slips behind his cheerful mask, introducing himself. “I’m Venti! Venti the Bard. It’s nice to make both of your acquaintances!”

Rosaria takes a step back, appraising him in a flat tone. “Mm. Another pipe-dream musician peddling the alleyways. Just what this city needs.”

Gotelinde’s kind demeanor falters, chastising her fellow nun. “Rosaria. If Venti has given you good reason to act this way, you’d best tell me now. If not, then I kindly request that you see to your other duties elsewhere.”

She’s quiet for a long moment, and Venti can’t parse much of anything from her stoic expression. “…No. No reason. You just can’t be too cautious these days.” She glances over to Gotelinde before eyeing Venti one last time. “I’ll be around.”

And with that ominous goodbye, she swiftly takes her leave. Gotelinde quietly apologizes once she’s beyond earshot. “I’m so sorry about her. She’s… a troubled soul. Her trust is hard won, but her bark is worse than her bite.”

As Venti watches the thorny woman slip through a revolving doorway beneath the elevated apse, he heavily doubts the truth of that last statement.

Waving a hand, he placates her nonetheless. “Oh, it’s alright, really! I can respect her desire to keep this place safe. And for whatever the word of a stranger is worth, I promise that I’m not here to stir up any trouble.”

Gotelinde clasps her hands together, visibly pleased. “Then all should be well.” Turning toward the pews, she motions for him to follow her. “If you’d like, I can show you around a bit before the service begins! I promise that most everyone else you meet here will be quite a bit more friendly.”

After a brief tour and a few amicable introductions, Venti finds himself sitting in one of the empty backmost pews, unsure how to feel. The surreality of the situation clouds his mind, one question louder than the organ notes resounding off the walls.

Why do they still believe in me?

As the congregation stands, reverently singing a song that he himself had penned countless centuries ago, he wonders if he ever even woke up at all.

A/N: Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed! I'll be back (hopefully) tomorrow with part 2! You can find my commentary on this fic in the notes right here on Ao3. This is fic 5 of 16 that I'm doing based on combining prompts from this list! [Day 5 (Archon) & Day 20 (Sharing)] Header Image Sources: [X] • [X] • [X]

[branches-of-time]

We here at The Seventh District offer nothing but the most riveting gameplay content.

Jokes aside, I'm finally getting around to editing and uploading last year's playthrough of the Fontaine Archon Quest.

For more A+ editing and entertaining commentary, part 1 is linked below!

[branches-of-time]

some Kaeya doodles

+ bonus: older post-canon version

[branches-of-time]

Them

[branches-of-time]

picked up this game finally

[branches-of-time]

mother🤲

[branches-of-time]

The House That Built Me

“Figured you’d either still be at the tavern, or were already home wondering where I was.”

He smiles at you, soft, before looking away. “I was at the tavern most of the day, like I planned this morning. But… something didn’t feel right. I wasn’t really… giving it my all, and I think the patrons could tell.”

You frown. “What didn’t feel right? Are you okay?”

“Oh, I’m fine, Windblume. I’m just fine.”

You aren’t convinced. “Then, uh… do you feel like sharing what isn’t fine?”

His gaze drops to the dark sea below. “I think you know what it is, actually.”

Cryptic as ever, you take a moment to ponder what he might mean. He takes the silence as an opportunity to elaborate. “I never really wonder where you are, you know?"

~~~~~~~

Inazuma, all raging storms and war-torn, is calling your name. Shamefully, you find yourself running north instead, searching for something, anything to fill this home-shaped void in your heart.

Maybe, just maybe, you’ll come to find that home is a person, more than a place.

Pairing: Venti x Reader - Established Relationship, GN!Reader

Word Count: 11,033

Contains: [angst (with a happy ending)] [crying] [cuddling] [emotional hurt/comfort] [lack of communication] [loneliness] [memories] [not canon compliant] [pet death] [Reader & Venti are both adults] [Reader is not Traveler but they essentially take their place in the game's plot] [self-deprecating reader] [separation anxiety] [set prior to Version 2.0] [songfic]

A/Ns: This is a songfic! Title and verses written throughout the fic are from the song- "The House That Built Me" by Miranda Lambert.

Lastly, some context- Reader is a Riftwolf-Human hybrid, can manipulate all seven elements but has an affinity for Geo.

I know they say you can't go home again.

Sand, warmed by the afternoon sun, swells between your spread fingers as you press your hands down into the ground at your sides. Summoning a modicum of Geo elemental energy, your hands meet no resistance as they sink into the compacted grains like a hot knife through butter. You drop your raised shoulders and let your hands bury several inches into the beach until the sand surrounding them is cool, untouched by the heat of the day.

Dismissing the energy you’d been using to repel it, you allow the ground to resist you again. You note the weight of the sand as it presses down on the backs of your hands, and the firm bed of grains packed beneath your palms. You shut your eyes and flex your fingers slightly, focusing on the soft grit of Falcon Coast as it surrounds your hands in its weighted embrace.

Breathing a heavy sigh, you reopen your eyes, dropping your head and cursing the earth beneath you. This attempt at grounding yourself is doing little to ease the knot in your stomach, nor the tightness in your chest. Looking up and out across the expanse of ocean before you, the sight of Musk Reef looming in the distance doesn’t help either. You refuse to allow your gaze to drift any further south.

You begin to ask yourself what you’re even doing here, and why you thought this was a good idea. You’re no stranger to fleeing to Mondstadt whenever the world overwhelms you, but this specific beach perhaps wasn’t the wisest choice. Certainly not when the very thing you’re running from is the sea.

You hadn’t put much thought into where to go, you just knew you wanted to go home. Materializing at the waypoint east of Windrise was simply instinctual. Though, when you arrived, you didn’t turn and head north like you had so many times before. No, you took a running jump off the cliff below, gliding south and landing on the coast.

Sitting here now though, hands buried in the same sand you first washed up on after clawing your way out of the abyss… it’s not as comforting of a spot as you thought it might be. You don’t feel grounded at all, caught up between memories of the past and fears of the future.

Tugging your hands out of the sand with a frustrated huff, you turn your head to glance behind you at the cliff to the north.

…Maybe you should’ve gone that way instead. Maybe you should go home.

 I just had to come back one last time.

Materializing at the earlier waypoint once again, you pause to collect yourself for a moment. Making frequent use of the waypoints, especially in your current state, isn’t very wise. Then again, you aren’t in a very wise state. Taking a deep breath to dispel the dizziness, you let the warm breeze caress your cheeks. Looking around from your current vantage point, you find yourself grateful for the lack of people in the area. Even Chloris is currently nowhere to be found.

Well, at least you can think in peace. Jumping down from the crumbling ruin, you steady yourself against an archway, narrowly avoiding crushing a small patch of lamp grass. …Perhaps you should’ve taken another moment to collect yourself. Perhaps you shouldn’t be wandering through the wilds all on your own, in such a state.

You scoff at the latter thought. This is Mondstadt, and you’re… you. What’s the worst that could happen?

Pushing aside the thought that more alone time may not be what you need right now, you think yourself through your predicament once again as you set off on a walk.

-

You’d been reluctant to leave Mondstadt and set out for Liyue, despite knowing that you’d get no further answers to your myriad of questions here. Not to mention the nagging, relentless tug of fate, pulling you away from the nation you’d come to call home. You knew full and well that you’d have to leave. You’d find no peace in an attempt to ignore the call, and settle here indefinitely.

Still, that didn’t stop you from milking your time here as much as possible. You’d gotten to a first name basis with nearly every soul in the city by the time you ran out of tasks to busy yourself with. Gained quite the notable reputation for yourself in the process too, although that hadn’t been your goal. You truly just didn’t want to leave.

You’d trekked over every hill, passed through every valley, climbed to every peak and turned over every stone and leaf along your way. You explored the nation’s ruins, deciphered inscriptions half faded into their stone, and felled every field till- …ruin guard that stood in your way. You’d braved the frozen peaks of Dragonspine, and gained a newfound appreciation for the Pyro element in the process.

You stood atop the celestial nail, looking out through the blizzard and over the expanse of land to the southwest.

The vast, foreign land that laid before you scared you more than the journey to the top of the nail had.

After all, you didn’t fear falling. The wind at your back would surely catch you, you had no doubt.

Flecks of Cryo stung, colliding with the flushed, exposed skin of your face. You closed your eyes, balance wavering slightly as a result. A small arm was quick to wrap itself around your waist.

No, you didn’t fear falling. You feared leaving.

You leaned into the safety of your Archon’s hold, their concerned voice perfectly audible in spite of the blizzard winds surrounding you. “Are you alright? Do you need to get down?”

You feared leaving him.

-

Leaves from the end of a tree branch brush against your perked ears, pulling you back into the present. Shaking your head and drawing your ears down on instinct, you look around and realize your muscle memory has carried you the rest of the way home. Tucked away against a small cliff south of the Thousand Winds Temple, stands an even smaller cottage, forgotten to time. An Anemo Samachurl paces in circles in the yard, and its Geo counterpart sits on the old stone stairs leading into the home.

Ma'am, I know you don't know me from Adam.

The Geo Samachurl turns to look at you, and you give it a small wave in acknowledgement. Its attention lingers on you for only a moment longer, before turning back to continue watching its Anemo companion instead. A smile plays on your lips, tight and bittersweet.

You make no move to continue approaching, instead opting to back up a few paces and lean against a nearby tree, observing.

They can sense enough of your shared origins, or- maybe it’s the lingering abyssal energy on you… regardless, they can sense something on you that they recognize. Nothing specific, but something familiar enough that they feel no need to take up arms upon the mere sight of you. In all honesty, you feel the same. Their presence here doesn’t pose any genuine threat, so you’re content to leave them be.

In the many months that have passed since Venti and you moved out of this place, it’s become a haven for others. Whether it be traveling adventurers seeking shelter for a night, wildlife seeking refuge from a passing storm beneath the awning, or even your old Khaenri’ahn kin seeking a place to camp, the cottage has served many.

The both of you have kept a distant eye on the place since your departure. Though, Venti has found himself remaining more distant than you since these Samachurls have set up camp. While your presence doesn’t ring any alarm bells for them, the same cannot be said for Venti. While he holds no ill intent toward them either, something about the aura he emits sets them instinctively on edge.

You can hardly blame them. You’d raised your hackles and bared your teeth at the bard, defensive upon your first encounter as well. Looking back, he was hardly posing any threat then either, but at the time, you viewed everyone and everything as a potential enemy. After all, you’d just escaped the abyss and been tossed to the shore of Falcon Coast by the waves, your weaker control over Cryo failing you halfway across your attempt at an ice bridge. Waking up on hot sand to find a humanoid being with an unsettling gaze emanating a suspiciously divine aura above you was more than enough to kick your fight or flight into gear.

You attempted both, in that order. You immediately dug your hands into the sand and threw fistfuls of it at the stranger, successfully disorienting them and giving you an opening to flee. With nothing but ocean to the east, you bolted west, and then north, headed for higher ground intent on gaining an advantage.

Looking back now, you know nothing could’ve stopped Venti if he’d truly wanted to catch you. At the time, though, you felt pretty confident in having outrun him. By the time you felt like you’d lost him, you found yourself also lost amidst trees, the uneven terrain obscuring your sense of direction. So- tired, thirsty, hungry, scared, and confused- you dropped from a run to a walk. Pressing forward in the direction you’d run in, you kept your ears at attention to catch any threat before it could catch you.

-

The Anemo Samachurl breaks from its quiet chanting and pacing, its sudden cry pulling your focus from the past. From the way it points and takes off in a run, and the way its Geo counterpart rises to follow behind, you assume it must have seen something in the woods that caught its attention. You see nor sense nothing of note, and dismiss the likely false alarm. Probably just wildlife, or perhaps a Dendro slime looking to play. As the two little shamans run off into the trees, you take advantage of the vacancy they leave behind.

But these handprints on the front steps are mine.

You figure you’ve got enough time for a quick visit before they return. Besides, the worst that’ll happen if they do catch you in their “camp” will be a few disgruntled spells cast toward you as you hightail it out of there. It’ll be fine.

Approaching the trio of old stone steps that lead to the front door, your gaze catches on two handprints engraved into the highest stair. Memories begin to surface.

-

Sitting on the stairs with your back pressed to the door, you found yourself growing frustrated with the green-clad individual in your yard. Well, perched in one of the trees in your yard, to be precise.

You’d taken up residence in this old run-down cottage once it seemed that no one else had been occupying it. The first few days had been blessedly peaceful, it seemed the area was rather devoid of other life. Well, threatening life, at least. There were plenty of plants and animals, plus a little pond close by, providing far more sustenance than you’d grown used to surviving on. You figured it was as good of a place as any to try and sort out your next move. You hadn’t put much thought into what you’d do once you escaped, after all. You found yourself feeling… lost. After charging ahead with your focus locked on a single goal for so damn long… you didn’t know what to do with yourself now that you’d achieved it.

You weren’t lost for long though. The nosy stranger that found you on the beach proved to be the next target of your focus. Your peaceful existence in this cottage overlooking the sea didn’t last long before you found yourself in their unwanted company once again. They might’ve thought they were subtle, hiding amongst the treetops and watching you quietly.

They weren't. You could sense them. Hell, even if it weren’t for the strange aura they emanated, you could smell them. They carried a strong scent of fermentation with them, and you could easily pick up on the pungent smell in the wind.

On the third day of your silent standoff, you grew fed up with this stranger’s odd behavior. You only knew one way of settling things, and that was face-to-face, not through some weird game of observation. You cleared your throat, preparing your underused voice and searching for your words. Tilting your head back to look at the trespasser, you snarl at their relaxed stance, laid back across a branch like they’re asleep.

“Come down.” You bark the command up into the trees.

The stranger doesn’t comply, but they do acknowledge you, opening their eyes and turning their head to look down at you. “So you can speak!”

You’re in no mood to entertain their conversation, certainly not before making sense of their intentions. “Come. Down.” You repeat, voice flat and serious.

“Are you gonna throw sand in my eyes again?” Light and playful, they question you.

You huff. “No.” Not without good reason, at least, you think to yourself but fail to vocalize.

They hum in thought for a moment before going quiet again. You let the seconds pass, growing more irritable with each one. Just as you’re about to call them down once again, they roll to the side, willingly falling from the branch they’d been laying on. Your muscles twitch and lock for a moment as you stop yourself from… from… from what? What were you going to do, run and try to catch them? Why would you do that? They’ve done nothing for you.

Your lack of action proves itself inconsequential as the stranger falls at a remarkably slow speed. It’s less of a fall and more of a… decent, you suppose, seeming to effortlessly defy gravity. Righting themself midair to land on their feet, they pull their cape forward on their shoulders, beginning to approach you.

You plant your hands firmly on the stone at your sides, readying yourself for anything.

“While that wasn’t the most convincing answer, I suppose I can extend a bit of trust to you. I sure hope you don’t make me regret it though!” They come far closer to you than anyone with a sense of self-preservation ought to. They hold a hand out between you, and you stare at it, waiting for something to happen. “I’m Venti, a bard from the city.”

Finally getting your first proper look at them up close, you’re struck with the strangest sense of recognition. You couldn’t pinpoint it to save your life, but… something about this person feels… familiar. Distant, hazy, and inexplicable, but it’s there nonetheless.

You don’t like it.

When you make no move to do… whatever they seem to want you to do with their hand, they drop it, and you flinch at the sudden motion. Frowning, they question you. “Might I ask for your name in exchange, my dear trespasser? We can hardly get to know one another without exchanging some basic information.”

Your brows pinch in frustration at the stranger's many words. They say a lot, and they say it fast. It’s been… you can’t recall how long it’s been since you last held such conversation. One word stands out to you, though. “Trespasser? Me?”

He nods. “Well, technically, yes! I don’t know much about you yet but I do know that this isn’t your house.”

“How?” You question, eyes narrowing, watching as they stupidly step even closer.

“How do I know that this isn’t yours?” They question you in return.

You nod, claws sharpening, palms itching with pent-up Geo energy crackling beneath your skin.

“Because it’s mine, silly!” They laugh, reaching out toward you.

Your instincts take over as the stranger moves to grab you, and you force your hands into the stone beneath you. Releasing the Geo energy you’d been holding onto, you use the repelling force to launch yourself up off the stairs and at the fool standing before you.

You don’t make contact with them though, stumbling forward into what suddenly becomes thin air and tripping over nothing, sending yourself straight to the ground. Righting yourself before you can even register the impact, your claws tear through the dirt and grass as you turn back to face your opponent on all fours.

You freeze at the sight of them, casually propped against the railing of the stairs, clearly not poised to fight. With no weapon in their hands, and refusing to take on any sort of combative stance, you find yourself locked in a one-sided stand-off.

Not taking their eyes off you, the stranger pats the banister they’re leaning against. “I wasn’t reaching out for you, friend.” As you process their words and the seconds turn into a minute, they make no move to attack you, so you slowly let your guard down. Just slightly. Bending at the knees, you settle in a deep squat on the ground.

When the stranger seems confident enough that you aren’t about to throw yourself at them again, they allow their attention to leave you and fall to the step where you’d just sat. Following their gaze, you notice two handprints now carved into the stone, the very edge of the stair chipped away in places where your claws had caught on it.

You ready yourself for an attack, as this stranger surely won’t take kindly to destruction of, apparently, their property. But they make no move to do any such thing. They simply look back up at you with a knowing smile.

“You take after Morax, I see.”

Up those stairs in that little back bedroom, is where I did my homework and I learned to play guitar.

Smiling and shaking your head at the memory, you make your way into the small home. It’s rather bare, even more so than it had been when you first found the place. The two of you had taken all of your personal possessions with you into the teapot, leaving nothing but the basic furniture behind. After all, you had far better options awaiting you through Tubby’s sub-space creation.

Seeing the cottage in its original state, it once again becomes clear to you just how little Venti had customized the place prior to you moving in. He didn’t, and still doesn’t have much to his name, truly living the life of the wandering bard he identifies as. Most of what he does have he keeps on his person, whether that be in the physical sense, or dematerialized and stored away.

The cottage turned into a bit less of a shelter and more of a home over the many months you spent there with him. You stocked the little kitchen with far more than just his assortment of fruits, and an array of objects you collected from your outings lined the shelves. Looking back now, with a bit more insight on your own mental and emotional states, you venture a guess as to your behavior. You were likely hoarding whatever you found as a means of making up for how long you spent having nothing.

Venti never shamed you for it, even though he likely understood the behavior from the beginning. He was incredibly empathetic, and kinder than you felt you deserved, even once parts of your past became known to him. It took some time, given your struggle to keep up with his words, and the bigger struggle of finding your own. You managed to get it across to him eventually though, and he’d been benevolent enough to take you in.

-

You come to a stop in the bedroom doorway, surveying the place through the lens of the past.

You remember countless hours spent at the small desk in the corner, hunched over paper with text on it that you couldn’t decipher. Venti stood beside you, one hand on your shoulder, patiently teaching you how to make sense of the symbols you saw.

You remember less stressful hours spent sitting on the floor, curiously plucking at the strings of the bard’s various instruments with your claws. He’d sit on the bed watching you, naming the notes and teaching you how to turn your discordant noise into beautiful music. You were never as good as he was though, and you really didn’t mind. You preferred to listen to him playing, anyway. The bard possessed a beautiful voice, and the soft songs he’d sing to you in the dark of night never failed to put your tormented mind at ease.

Staring at your designated spot on the floor, you laugh at the memory of countless nights spent refusing his invitations. He’d offered his bed to you from the beginning, insisting that you deserved it more than he did. Besides, he said, he was used to sleeping in trees and fields, on barstools and street corners. He claimed he wouldn’t miss the bed at all.

You wouldn’t hear of it. Vehemently denying any offers, you stubbornly slept- atop as many blankets and pillows as you’d allow him to give you- on the floor by his bed like the dog you were. He wasn’t the only one used to sleeping in uncomfortable places, and you weren’t about to lose your edge by getting too comfortable too soon.

You think of the way you woke up this morning, wrapped in soft, warm blankets on a wide, plush mattress, face nuzzled into his neck, arms around his waist.

You’ve both come a long way.

You hear the familiar sound of distant hilichurlian chanting, and make your move to leave, bidding your old bedroom a quiet farewell once again.

Slipping out of the cottage and rounding the side of the building in a few long strides, you narrowly manage to evade their notice. Peeking around the corner, you watch them return to their prior posts. The Anemo Samachurl diligently paces between the trees, its Geo companion keeping watch from the stairs.

You smile, and turn to make your silent departure.

-

Checking in on your old home had been a successful distraction from the thoughts you’re trying to avoid, but you couldn’t linger there forever. Still, feeling unprepared to return to the teapot and try to put on a brave face for Venti, you find yourself wandering. With no particular destination in mind, you let your feet take you where they may.

You try to think of nothing at all for a while, failing over and over again as your mind searches for something to latch onto. Apparently counting your steps wasn’t entertaining enough for it.

After a while of failing to meditate on your walk, you find yourself leaving grass and stepping onto a dirt path. Looking up and around, you realize you’ve made your way to the road leading to the Thousand Winds Temple.

Turning and looking south, you can see the massive tree at Windrise, off in the distance. Far, far, beyond that, bringing your eyes to the horizon, you can see the snowy peaks of Dragonspine beyond the tall cliff of Galesong Hill. You sigh.

And I bet you didn't know, under that live oak, my favorite dog is buried in the yard.

A few months after arriving in Mondstadt and settling in with Venti, you found yourself exploring the icy riverbank that borders Dragonspine. The stubborn bard, wrapped in the thickest cloak he owned, trudged along behind you.

You’d told him he didn’t have to join you that day, but the thought of you exploring unfamiliar territory without him apparently just didn’t sit right. So, in spite of his occasional grumbles over the increasing cold, he never left your side.

The area was predictably desolate, save for a few Cryo Hilichurl archers lounging on the icy banks like they were on summer vacation. You weren’t looking for a fight that day though, just to explore, so you avoided drawing their attention given the divine company you were in.

Later on, as you were focusing hard on what Pyro energy you could summon in an attempt to melt the ice encasing a chest, you found something far more valuable. Venti saw it first, having been eyeing the surroundings while you were focused on the task at hand. Calling your name, he summoned your attention with ease.

Turning to look at him, your gaze followed his pointed finger and landed on a dog, slowly making its way toward you.

The animal was fairly large, but certainly far from threatening given the state it was in. As it drew closer, Venti lowered himself to his knees in the cold wet grass, suddenly forgoing his prior reluctance to endure the elements. You smiled. It seemed like he’d learned a thing or two from you about dealing with fearful dogs.

You followed suit, crouching down beside him and getting on the dog's level. The shivering animal hesitated, coming to a stop about fifteen feet away. Materializing some fresh meat you’d caught on the journey there, you quietly held it out toward the dog.

It sniffed the air, but refused to move.

Tearing a chunk off, you gently tossed it in the dog’s direction, and it landed a few feet in front of it. Sniffing harder, the animal carefully approached the offering, sticking its head out as far as it could to reach the food and avoid coming closer.

The two of you spent the better part of an hour luring the dog toward you, slowly but surely winning it over with continued offerings of fresh meat.

Upon closer inspection, you were honestly shocked that it was still standing. Skin stretched tight across its ribcage, hip bones two sharp peaks, spine a long mountain range down its back… the thing was clearly starving. You weren’t sure if it was the stress of a difficult life, a sign of old age, or both, but what you assumed had once been black fur was almost white from graying, particularly in its face. It trembled incessantly, and as soon as it came close enough and didn’t seem apt to bolt, Venti untied his cape and wrapped it around the dog, who shockingly didn’t fight it.

Maybe Venti had been serious when he claimed he could talk to animals.

You fed it more bites of meat as the two of you quietly discussed the best way to get it home. Blessedly, once the dog realized that neither of you held malicious intentions, it switched gears surprisingly fast. More than just tolerating your presence, the dog actually began to cling to you, frantically whining when you both stood up, fearful that you’d be leaving it behind.

Abandoning your half-melted treasure, you knew it was time to leave. You were quite a ways from home and you weren’t about to try teleporting the dog in its current state. So instead, you carefully picked her up, frowning at how little she weighed. Venti took the remaining meat and distracted the nervous dog with more offerings of food as you began your long, slow journey home.

“Don’t- don’t feed her too fast. I know she’s hungry but I don’t want to make her sick.”

Venti nodded, tearing off smaller bites. “I remember.” He cryptically confirmed.

You adjusted the dog in your hold, pulling Venti’s cape up around her neck. “…Remember what?”

He suppressed a shiver, but you still noticed. “You ate yourself sick on fruit and raw meat the first night you spent here.”

Your head turned quickly, staring down at him. “You were watching? Even then?”

He nodded, expression solemn. “I followed you home, you know? It just took a few days for you to notice that I was there.”

You walked in thoughtful silence for a while after that, wondering if your scattered senses had failed you, or if he was actually better at hiding his aura than you thought.

-

The dog lived with the both of you in your little cottage for a few good months. She gradually put on weight, and some life returned to her alongside it. She still moved slowly, though, and you feared she was in pain.

By that point, you’d befriended a timid alchemist with mint-green hair, and sought her assistance. She’d kindly offered you a medicine of her own creation, advising that the dog seemed rather old, and likely suffered from joint pain. You offered her payment in Mora, which she politely refused. You eventually got her to accept a small assortment of bones you’d gathered in exchange, correctly surmising that the offer would be too tempting for her to refuse.

Sucrose’s medicine seemed to help, because the dog moved with noticeably more ease once you began giving it to her. She was far from spry, but she seemed comfortable, so you were content. She was also content, in the precious, innocent way that only a dog can be. Just happy to be alive, happy to be fed, happy to be safe. Happy to be near someone that loves them, and happy to be near someone they love.

“Adagio.” Venti had once said, gently raking his nails through her fur on a warm, sleepy afternoon.

“What’s that?’ It was far from the first time he’d said a word you didn’t know.

“In musical terms, it means played slowly… I think it would be a nice name for her.”

You considered it for a moment, and found it rather fitting, nodding in agreement with a smile. “I like that.”

Adagio spent her days laying in the shade near the cliff’s edge, watching the waves lap at the small shore below. Looking back, you can thank her for teaching Venti that you can survive a half a day on your own. She could hardly chase you all over Mondstadt, or weave her way after Venti through the busy city streets, so when one of you needed to go out for something, the other would stay home with her. One of the two of you were always there, and she never knew the pain of being alone again.

She spent her nights curled between the two of you. She couldn’t make the jump up onto the bed, and you were still stubbornly sleeping on the floor, so Venti made the executive decision to heave the mattress onto the floor as well. As silly of a sight as it may have been to an outsider, the three of you were comfortable, curled together amidst blankets and pillows on the too-small mattress, bed frame abandoned on the other side of the room.

Nothing lasts forever though, and it seemed to you that the best of things were always the quickest to go.

As months passed, her movements went from slow to slower, and she started struggling with more things. She could no longer steady herself to make it up and down the three stairs to your home, so one of you carried her every time. She slept more and moved less, and her love of food began to wane.

This wasn’t your first experience with something like this. Though it had been an awfully long time since you lived through it last, you still knew what was coming.

That didn’t make it hurt any less, though. Not at all.

Both of you sat awake with her through the final night, keeping her comfortable and telling her how much you loved her. You’d never hoped harder that Venti’s communicative abilities held true.

You kept it together until she released her final breath, and when you knew she was gone, you allowed yourself to fall apart.

Up until then, your walls had been an impenetrable fortress. No emotion escaped unless you allowed it. Venti had never seen you cry.

So when your pain escaped you this time, falling in heavy golden tears and landing in her gray fur, he could only stare. He knew this wasn’t his moment to intrude on, so he didn’t. He didn’t rush to wrap you in an embrace, nor did he try to offer any hollow words of comfort. This was pain. This was loss. He was intimately familiar with it, and he knew it had to be felt.

There isn’t a single detail of that night that you don’t recall, and the teal tears that fell next to your golden ones are no exception.

That was the first time you saw him cry, too.

-

The evening breeze cools the hot golden tracks running down your cheeks. You watch tears fall onto the dirt path beneath you, and then you close your eyes.

-

You both sat there with what remained of her until the morning sun slipped in through the window. You were surprised when Venti broke the silence, offering to bury Adagio beneath the Windrise tree.

You spoke through a voice thick and strained from your cries. “That’s… that’s a really special place.”

He nodded. “She was a really special dog.”

You wiped the fresh tears from your eyes before they could fall, turning to face him.

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.” He put his hand out, laying it next to Adagio on the mattress. “Unless you’d prefer elsewhere?”

You knew what to do this time. Reaching out and laying your hand in his, you shook your head slowly. “No. I think Windrise would be perfect.”

-

Opening your eyes, you raise your head to glance once more at the massive tree across the sprawling field. Bidding Adagio another quiet goodbye, you pull in a shaky breath, and turn, heading north.

Walking in silence for a while, you try to let your emotions settle. The tears you just shed seemed to help a little, but the knot in your stomach won’t leave you.

You follow the road a little while longer, but when you find yourself nearing the temple, you take a detour and head west, off the beaten path. You aren’t keen on running into whatever random explorers might be camping there this evening. Besides, the scent of cecilias is on the breeze, and you’d rather follow that instead.

Making your way up the uneven terrain that comprises the base of Starsnatch Cliff, your mind returns to its ruminations over what brought you here today in the first place.

You leave home, you move on, and you do the best you can.

The reason for your reluctance to leave Mondstadt became abundantly clear on the day you finally set out for the neighboring nation. As you left Dawn Winery behind and crossed the border, headed for Stone Gate, it sank in quickly.

Venti wasn’t beside you.

Up until that point, he’d been the literal wind at your back every step of the way. Every commission you completed, every request you fulfilled, every inch of land you explored, he was right behind you. Or beside you, or above you, or in front of you…

Regardless, he was there. Answering your questions, telling you stories, helping you make sense of the unfamiliar. Whether it be words you couldn’t yet read, customs you didn’t yet understand, or emotions you couldn’t yet identify, he was your guide through it all. The Stormterror crisis came and went, as did the… incident with Signora, and the two of you grew ever closer as a result of it all. You could fill a book with the stories of what you two went through in the mere year you spent in this nation. But, as you sat together beneath the Windrise tree one evening discussing it all, it slowly grew clear that it was coming time to move on. As if the notion alone wasn’t stressful enough already, there seemed to be an unspoken understanding that it was a journey you must undertake alone.

So, you did. You’d packed your things, said your temporary goodbyes, and set off on your own without so much as once giving in to the urge to ask him to come along. The goodbyes were, after all, only temporary. You hoped. If you made it through whatever awaited you in Liyue alive, you always planned on returning home.

And you did. Many times.

You, scared as you’d been, made it through the lively adventure that was your initial trip to Liyue, and you’d come out much stronger for it. You found a confidence that you’d forgotten you possessed, forced to show itself once there was no travel companion for you to rely on.

Quite early in your journey, you gathered that you weren’t completely alone anyhow. Sure, in your day-to-day there was no talkative bard trailing behind you, and the nights proved themselves awfully lonely indeed. But Venti’s parting words, “may the wind protect you”, proved themselves surprisingly literal as you took note of one particular Yaksha. After a few nights at Wangshu Inn, and a few bowls of almond tofu shared in relative silence, the man had made himself into your shadow shockingly fast. He never seemed to be around when your gaze searched for him in a crowd, but was always conveniently there the moment you ran into trouble.

Still, in spite of his protection, not to mention your growing, innate connection with the God of your favored element, you longed for home. You longed for your home. You longed for your God.

I got lost in this whole world, and forgot who I am.

So, once the dust, or, well, waves had settled and Rex Lapis had been “officially” laid to rest, you found yourself headed northeast.

In spite of how proud you’d been for making it on your own, all of that crumbled the evening you first crossed back into Mondstadt. You could've used any of the waypoints you’d resonated with, could’ve gone right back home to the cliff overlooking Falcon Coast. But something about that just didn’t feel right. Not for your first return.

Walking the path back toward Dawn Winery, you tried to keep your composure. You tried to not get irrationally emotional over the familiar sight of Anemo crystalflies fluttering over the grape vines. You ignored the warmth in your chest at the sight of soft yellow candlelight illuminating the cottage windows along your path.

Your weakening grip on your emotions completely failed though when you caught sight of a small, green-clad bard, legs dangling from the edge of a rooftop, plucking at his lyre.

You burst into tears on the spot, folding in on yourself and crumpling to the dirt beneath you.

He dropped the nonchalant act instantly, dematerializing from his perch on the rooftop and reappearing beside you in a small, warm burst of Anemo energy that you didn’t see through your tears, but definitely felt. He’d questioned you frantically, worried you were hurt, not understanding what was wrong. Eventually, largely thanks to his embrace, the sobs wracking your form eased enough to assure him that you were fine.

You’d just missed him, was all.

The array of conflicting emotions that flashed in his eyes at the admission would've intrigued you, had you not been so absorbed in your own at the time.

In spite of how badly you craved his company, you’d already proved to yourself that you could travel on your own. So, you continued to. After an extended stay in Mondstadt to recover from your first eventful excursion, you began traveling between the two nations more regularly. Having resonated with most of the waypoints and Statues of the Seven in Liyue as well, it was easy to hop over for the day and still come home to Venti at night.

I thought if I could touch this place or feel it, this brokenness inside me might start healing.

Such was your routine until Madam Ping had introduced you to her Teapots. Adeptal magic was quite the wonder, capable of impressive feats, and the new home offered to you was no exception. When you learned that not only could you live in it, but you could invite others in as well, you were over the moon. You were, of course, reluctant to bid a more permanent farewell to the little house overlooking the sea that you’d grown so familiar with. But when faced with something as convenient and extravagant as the teapot, you could hardly turn it down.

Venti had been more than interested in your offer when you brought the thing home and showed it to him. After bestowing a permanent invitation upon him, he took a liking to the space quite quickly, happy to help make yourselves a new home. Having already been informed of your penchant for Mondstadt, Tubby had crafted a world for you that resembled the land of freedom’s sprawling hills, cliffs, and beaches to an impressive degree. Your new home was far grander than your old one, but with a little time and personalization with what you both brought from the cottage, it really did start to feel like home.

It was… nice, having a safe place to return to every night, regardless of where you were or what you may be caught up in. It was even nicer that Venti seemed to quite enjoy spending time there as well. There’d scarcely been an evening where both of you hadn’t wound up in the teapot together, sharing stories of your respective days over dinner.

Things carried on like that for the remainder of your time in Liyue. You spent more and more time in the land of contracts, and less and less in Mondstadt as a result. Sometimes you’d have reason to return, and somehow you’d almost always run into Venti while you were there. Time spent with him in the teapot was no less real, but it always felt… special, when the two of you were together in Mondstadt again.

Out here, it's like I'm someone else, I thought that maybe I could find myself.

Still, just as it had been with Mondstadt, you couldn’t linger in Liyue forever. You’d built a reputation for yourself there to match your standing in Mondstadt, making a slew of new connections, exploring, finding answers and more questions alike. It was time to move on. Inazuma loomed far, far off on the southern horizon, and it was up to you to make the first step to reach it.

You didn’t want to.

You stood on the docks, looking out at Guyun Stone Forest, and at Beidou’s ship anchored nearby.

You found yourself feeling something you hadn’t felt in a long while. You felt the same as you had when standing atop the celestial nail, only this time it was somehow worse. It scared you. Yes, the prospect of setting off effectively alone to yet another unfamiliar nation, but more than that. It scared you because you thought you’d grown past this. You thought you could handle this. You thought… you thought you’d outgrown this immature sense of homesickness.

You were wrong.

If I could walk around, I swear I'll leave.

That’s how you found yourself here, ambling through the wilds of Mondstadt. You really, really don’t want to leave. But you know that you have to.

You think of the stories you’ve heard in Liyue, of the terrible war raging in the island nation to the south.

You release a shaky breath into the cooling air.

You pray that you’ll make it back alive.

Won't take nothin' but a memory, from the house that built me.

Following the cecilias as their trail grows thicker, you weave your way up to the peak of the massive cliff.

You’re only slightly surprised to see a small figure, dressed in a very familiar shade of green, sitting with their back to you at the very edge.

Tension you didn’t notice you were holding melts from your shoulders at the sight of him.

You do your best to push aside the emotional storm you’ve been caught up in, and you call out to him, playful. “Fancy seeing you here!”

He twists at the waist to face you, following your movement as you approach. “I could say the same, love. What brings you here?”

You laugh softly as you come to a halt beside him. “Well, I could ask the same of you.” You carefully lower yourself to the ground, letting your legs dangle off the cliff beside his. “Figured you’d either still be at the tavern, or were already home wondering where I was.”

He smiles at you, soft, before looking away. “I was at the tavern most of the day, like I planned this morning. But… something didn’t feel right. I wasn’t really… giving it my all, and I think the patrons could tell.”

You frown. “What didn’t feel right? Are you okay?”

“Oh, I’m fine, Windblume. I’m just fine.”

You aren’t convinced. “Then, uh… do you feel like sharing what isn’t fine?”

His gaze drops to the dark sea below. “I think you know what it is, actually.”

Cryptic as ever, you take a moment to ponder what he might mean. He takes the silence as an opportunity to elaborate. “I never really wonder where you are, you know?”

You glance at him, bemused for a moment before growing serious. “Oh, what, were you- like- watching me today? How… Wait, how long have you been up here, actually?”

He doesn’t look at you, but he shakes his head. “I don’t have to be watching you to know where you are, dear.” The wind tousles your hair. “I’m already everywhere. All the time. If the wind can reach you, I’m there.”

“...Oh. Right.” You let your own gaze fall to the sea. “Maybe I let myself forget sometimes, just how… literal that is.”

You remember the warm sea breeze from this afternoon, the brief gust that cooled your tear-stained cheeks early this evening, and the wind that brought the scent of cecilias down toward you.

“...So you could tell that I was here today.”

“Yeah.” He confirms quietly. “There was something… discordant, blowing in from Falcon Coast this afternoon. It didn’t take long for me to identify you.”

Guilt blooms within you. “Is that when you left the tavern?”

“No, I didn’t head out immediately. I mean- I can hardly turn off my omniscience, but I do still try to give you privacy in spite of it. I figured if you needed me, or… wanted me, you would call out.”

The way he says “wanted” makes your frown deepen.

“But, when the tone of the air only continued to sour as time passed, I did eventually give in to my concern.”

You pluck at the grass beneath you to busy your hands. “I’m sorry for distracting you. I really didn’t mean to, I just…”

He turns to you, cutting you off. “Please don’t say that. I couldn’t care less about losing out on a few mora at the tavern. I care about the fact that you’re out here, crying to yourself, all alone.”

A familiar tension makes itself at home again in your throat. “I…”

You trail off, lost for words. Venti makes up for it though, seeming to suddenly have quite a bit to get off of his own chest. “I can sense the difference between someone who wants to cry on their own, and someone who’s crying because they’re on their own.” His pained voice nearly cracks. “I never thought I’d feel the latter coming from you. But I’ve felt it more than once now, and… I don’t know what to do.”

At his confession, honesty slips out of you, and you can’t hold back the tears that come with it. “I miss you.” You turn to face him, and then look past, gesturing weakly out to the sprawling land of freedom behind you. “I miss this! I miss home! I miss you!” Voice breaking, you choke on your tears and lean into him, crumpling pathetically down onto his lap and curling yourself around him like the needy animal that you are.

His hands settle on you, one on your back and another reaching for your legs, pulling you against him so you don’t slip off the edge. His winds would cradle you if you fell, but he’d rather prevent the problem before it can happen. His own voice is tight with emotion when he speaks. “You have me, love. You- you hold me every night, I bid you goodbye every morning, you can visit Mondstadt whenever you please!”

You shake your head vehemently in his lap, crying harder.

“I’m sorry, love- I- I really don’t understand. In what way do you not have me?”

You practically shout your answer into the fabric of your sleeves, turning your head just enough to pointlessly attempt to wipe your face. “When I leave! I have to leave! I have to leave, and leave you behind, and you aren’t with me, and I’m alone again every time I go!”

One of his hands comes up to carefully comb the damp hair from your face, the black tips now wet with shimmering gold. “When you leave Mondstadt? Like… like when you go to Liyue?”

You nod, almost hyperventilating as your fears spill from you. “I should've never gone there alone! I wanted to ask you, I wanted you to come with me so badly but something told me that I shouldn't ask, that I should go alone, and so I went and I was so fucking scared but- but- but I was fine- I was fine- I made it back alive and so what if I cried every night because I missed you? I had a fucking nation to save it’s not like I could come home crying to you about it! And- and I mean Xiao was there but I- I- I can fight I can hold my own I don’t need protection I need a friend! I need company! I need you! I- I knew I’d be fine but fuck I felt so alone and I missed you, I missed you, I missed Venti, I missed Barbatos, I missed you SO MUCH-” You suddenly heave for air in the middle of your spiel, breathing in too hard and choking on your own spit. Feeling about as vulnerable and pathetic as you’ve ever been, you give in to the misery, grasping for purchase at any part of him you can reach. Your claws dig into the thin fabric of his tights in a way you know you’ll be frantically apologizing for later, but in this moment you can’t bring yourself to stop. You can't bring yourself to do anything but cry, and cry, and cry.

He doesn’t say anything for a few minutes, the only sound he makes instead being a quiet, gentle hush, over and over, focused on calming you down. The cool hand that finds its way beneath your hair and settles on the back of your hot neck feels like heaven, and for a moment you cry harder at the relief. His other hand pets across the broad expanse of your back in slow, rhythmic, sweeping motions.

When your cries have quieted enough for you to focus on his words, he says something that surprises you.

“I’d have gone, if you’d have asked me.”

You hiccup a question. “Wh-what?”

“To Liyue. I would have been more than happy to go with you, if you’d have only asked.” His lithe fingers gently massage at the tension in your neck.

You twist in his hold just enough to look up at him. “Seriously?”

He gives you a weak smile, but it’s more sad than anything. “Of course. The only reason I didn’t invite myself along was because I wanted you to have the freedom to choose. I figured… if I offered to go with you, you might feel obligated to bring me with you.”

You laugh, but there's no humor in it. “This whole time… this whole time I really thought that you didn’t want to go.”

He’s visibly pained by the thought. “Why in the world wouldn’t I?”

You shake your head. “I don’t know… I just figured you had your reasons. It is another nation after all, and I’m still… not too sure how Archons feel about crossing into one another’s territory.” You clear your throat and scrub at your eyes and cheeks with a fist. “Figured maybe you didn’t want to run into Morax or something…”

He laughs, and there’s a bit of life in it this time. “Even the prospect of running into that old block-head wouldn’t be enough to stop me from accompanying you.” He takes your hand in his, stopping your aggressive assault on your messy face. “And while certain Archons might be… less than enthralled to see me again, just because I’m with you doesn’t mean I have to be recognized.”

Your brow furrows. “Venti and Barbatos don’t look all that different…”

He smiles down at you good-naturedly. “True. But I could take another form if it came down to it. Something unrecognizable to even them. If there’s anything I know how to do, it’s how to hide in plain sight and not be found.”

In spite of the tears still staining your cheeks, you give a small smile to your absentee God. “You’d really go to such lengths? For me?”

He gives you a confident nod. “For you and you only, love.”

His hand continues its gentle ministrations across your back, and your muscles gradually relax. You run a hand along the fabric of his tights, waiting for your breaths to come steady. As your senses slowly return to you, your fingertips brush across a few small tears in the material, and you cringe. Venti notices as much, and reassures you. “Hey- It’s alright. Don’t worry about that.”

His words are too late to stop you from raising your head enough to observe the damage, your hand gently cupping his thigh. “I didn’t scratch you… did I?”

“Nope! Just caught the fabric is all.” You aren’t inclined to believe him, given that with his abilities he could’ve healed any minor wounds before you even knew they were there.

You huff, dropping your head to his lap once more. “I’m still very sorry. I’ll buy you-”

“That won’t be necessary-” He tries to cut you off, but your insistence overpowers his own.

“I am buying you a new pair.”

He sighs in reluctant acceptance, knowing better than to challenge you. “Alright, alright. If you insist.”

You lay there for a moment, idly kneading at his thigh and letting the soft sounds of the evening wildlife fill the silence. Still, you struggle to wrap your head around the recent revelation. “You’d really be willing to leave this place?”

He laughs beneath his breath at your disbelief. “I mean, not permanently. If you’ve hatched some plan to move to Snezhnaya that I don’t know about, then I might have to disappoint you…”

You relax further at the familiar, playful edge that returns to his voice. “Nah, nah, nothing like that… just- on my journey away and back. Not- not even every time! Just… sometimes. It… really would’ve been nice to have you by my side the first time, actually, but I know it’s too late for that now. I just… wouldn't have felt so lost.”

His smile fades a bit at the confirmation of a long-held suspicion. You had been missing him as badly as he’d missed you.

You catch the shift in his demeanor, no matter how slight. “...I’m making you sad…”

One of his hands finds yours. “Only at the realization of how oblivious I’ve been.” He laughs, humorless. “All those nights I couldn’t sense you in the wind, all the time I spent wondering if you were okay… you weren’t. You were holed up somewhere, crying, alone, afraid…”

His eyes pinch closed and you squeeze his hand. “It’s not on you. I should’ve been more honest with you before I left.”

He huffs, and then he’s quiet for a moment, thinking. It’s times like these in which you wish you could read him as well as he can read you. “...I could say the same.”

You stare up at him for a moment in confusion. “What do you mean?”

He holds your gaze for a moment and opens his mouth to speak, but seems to think better of whatever he had to say. His focus shifts from you and out to the sea. “...Like I said, I would’ve been happy to follow you. I never should’ve let you grow to believe otherwise.”

You pout just slightly at the less-than-complete sounding answer, but another question overrides your focus. “Is Liyue… the limit?”

The hesitation in your voice gives him pause. “What do you mean?”

“Is Liyue, like, as far as you’re willing to go.”

His eyes brighten in understanding, and you’d collapse from relief at the shake of his head if you weren’t already on the ground.

“Oh! No, not at all. I really meant it when I said I’d risk running into the other Archons for you.”

You release his hand and reach up to pinch the fat of your cheeks between your claws. He pouts, reaching down to stop you. “What’s that for?”

“I’m afraid I’m dreaming or something…”

He laughs properly, a beautiful sound. You crane your neck up to glance southward. The wall of storms barricading Inazuma are still there, an awful sight. You drop your head back to his lap with a heavy sigh.

He pats you gently on the cheek. “You’re wide awake, I assure you.”

Reaching up, you gently bat at the braids that hang at the sides of his face, chewing on your lower lip. He reads you like a book. “I think we’ve learned something this evening, dear.”

“What’s that?”

He catches your hand mid-air, splaying his fingers out and lacing them between yours. “It’s that when we have something to ask of one another, we should do it.”

The corner of your mouth turns up, and you meet his gaze. “Is that your fancy way of telling me to spit it out?”

He giggles. “Maybe.”

You sigh, letting your gaze drift away from him and up to the stars far, far above. “Would you be so kind… as to accompany this scared old dog all the way to Inazuma?”

You close your eyes, waiting for a “no.”

It never comes. Instead, he squeezes your hand in his, and you’re shocked to hear relief in his tone when he answers you. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Your eyes flicker open, unsure. “Is… is that a yes?”

He nods vehemently. “It is.”

The tears that spring to your eyes catch you by surprise. He wipes them away with his thumb as they fall. Sniffling, you question him again. “There’s- There’s a whole war going on over there right now, you know?”

The blue in his braids brightens, and in the dark of the early night, you notice the same turquoise light begin to shine from his chest, beneath the thin fabric of his white shirt. “I’m no stranger to war.”

You reach up, tracing a gentle finger across where you know one of his Archon marks to be. “...That you aren’t.”

His thumb swipes across the black star at the base of your neck, half hidden by your collar. “...Guess that makes two of us, huh.”

It’s a rhetorical question, but you hum in confirmation nonetheless. Rising from your spot on his lap, you wiggle your way around until you’re seated beside him properly again. Reaching an arm out, you wrap it around his shoulders, and he leans into you. Both of you stare out across the sea, watching the lightning flash in the storm to the south.

“I don’t even know what I’m gonna be able to do to help.” You sigh. “But I know I have to go.”

One of his hands finds yours again. “Whatever may come, I consider it an honor to fight alongside you.”

You bark a laugh, shaking your head at the notion. “Hey now, I just asked you to come with me, I never said anything about putting you in the line of fire.”

He smiles. “I know, I know, but still… if it comes down to it-”

“If it comes down to that, I’m hauling you over my shoulder and taking us both home.” You cut him off in a no-nonsense tone.

Your seriousness doesn’t cause his mirth to falter. “I fear I’m gonna be the one dragging you home if we run into Signora while we’re there.”

A low growl reverberates from your chest at the mere mention of her. “We’ve still got a score to settle.”

He pats you on the thigh placatingly, humor in his words. “Darling, how many times must I reassure you? I let her take it from me.”

“Still, she didn’t have to be so fucking rough about it. I’m not after the gnosis. She made this personal.” You snarl.

His soft laughter subsides as he shakes his head, but he doesn’t argue.

The two of you watch the lightning show for a short while, before you grow tired of the dreadful sight and opt to focus on something better. Unwrapping your arm from the God at your side, you stifle a laugh as he voices his sudden startled displeasure. You apologize as you reposition yourselves, moving away from the edge a bit and turning the both of you around. “Sorry about that, didn’t realize you’d almost fallen asleep on me.”

He pouts. “Can you blame me? You’re warm, and it’s been a stressful day… and speaking of-”

You nod. “I know. We should be getting home soon. But- look.” You point at the beautiful sight of Mondstadt City, lit up for the night, a beacon of hope and freedom standing strong in the distance. “Isn’t that a sight worth sticking around a little longer for?”

He sighs in content as you pull him against you once more. You can’t feel the swell of pride in his chest at the sight, but you can hear it in his voice. “It sure is.”

Lifting his hat from his head and placing it in his lap, you comb your fingers through his hair, finding your own satisfaction in the way he melts against you. The two of you admire the city for a long few minutes, and a thought occurs. “As much as I want you beside me… I feel bad taking you from your people.”

He shakes his head and the motion tickles as his hair brushes against your chin. “They don’t need me, love. At least, not in the day-to-day sense.” He huffs. “Honestly, I think the most prominent place that my presence will be missed is the tavern, and that’s of little consequence in the grand scheme.”

You know he’s right, but the guilt still nags at you. “I guess…”

He leans away just enough to turn and look you in the eye. “You are one of my people too, you know?”

You hold his gaze, considering it. Have you really been here long enough, or made a big enough impact on the region to be bestowed with such an honorary title? “...I suppose I do.”

He reaches up and cups your cheek, eyes pleading. “Then let me be there for you.”

You breathe a sigh of acceptance. “...Okay.” You turn your head and plant a quick kiss against his palm before he can pull away.

He lets his hand drop, but doesn’t turn away. “I’m really sorry that you’ve been carrying all of this pain with you for so long. I should have questioned you on it sooner.”

You pick his hand up from his lap, taking it in yours. “It’s not your fault. At least, certainly not anymore than it is mine. I should've just asked you to come, the worst thing you could’ve said was no.”

“I still hate that you even thought I might’ve said no. I… should have made my willingness clearer.”

“Nah, I mean, after a year of following me around Mondstadt I think you were quite clear. I’m just… dense.” You summon a few tiny Geo shards in your palm before allowing them to crumble into a shimmering pile of dust. “Comes with the territory, I suppose.”

Venti scoffs. “Well if you’re dense, then I’m diffuse.” A tiny gust of Anemo swoops in and lifts the dust from your outstretched palm, scattering it to the wind.

You watch your two energies mix and dissolve into the night air. “I guess they do say that opposites attract.”

He hums. “That they do, love.”

You expect him to turn back toward the city, and he almost does, but then he hesitates, and calls you by name. “I want you to remember something.”

Your interest piques, brows raising above tired, lidded eyes. “And what’s that?”

His tone is serious. “You are not alone. Ever. Not if you don’t want to be. I don’t want you hesitating to call on me ever again. If you need me, if you want me, I’m there. No exceptions.” Maybe it’s the day’s exhaustion catching up with you, but the light in his eyes feels like a beacon, guiding you home. “You don’t ever have to be alone again. Remember this, please.”

Something warm blooms in your chest, and it’s in this moment that you realize the knot in your stomach has loosened. It isn’t gone, but it’s hardly noticeable anymore, and you finally breathe easy. You hold his gaze for a moment before nodding, serious. “I will.”

He brings his hand up, holding his pinky out toward you. “Promise?”

You smile, reaching out and wrapping yours around his. “Promise.”

He exhales, satisfied. “You wanna stay out here a bit longer?”

You open your arms in invitation. “I’d love to.”

Shuffling around once more, you help situate him between your legs, pulling him back against your chest.

“Alright, but don’t hold it against me if I fall asleep out here. You make for quite the comfortable bed, you know.”

You smile, nuzzling into his hair and breathing him in. The heavy scent of fermentation he once carried is now nothing but a faint whisper. “I won’t mind.” Lifting your gaze from the distant city lights, you quietly admire the stars above. “Not at all.”

A/N: Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed! You can find my commentary on this fic in the notes right here on Ao3. For more info on my OC Saoirse (aka this fic's "Reader"), along with links to various relevant playlists and moodboards, you can find it all here, in the notes of my fic series "This Is Unconditional." This is fic 4 of 16 that I'm doing based on combining prompts from this list! [Day 6 (Singing) & Day 21 (Memory)] Header Image Source: Me, for once! It's an in-game screenshot that I took myself.

[branches-of-time]

barbietoes

[branches-of-time]

I think they should be insufferable together. actually

[branches-of-time]

Art by @kamiiart_

https://twitter.com/kamiiart_

[branches-of-time]

[branches-of-time]

zhongli goes to an archon meeting

[branches-of-time]

Archons 🌿🌸🍂☁️

[branches-of-time]

Hydro Archon 🌧️🌊

[branches-of-time]

Archons and their companions 💗

[branches-of-time]

Venti: Getting up at 6:00 am made me realize that 6:00 am isn't a place, it's an emotion. Traveller: 6:00 am isn't a place at all? Venti: That's because it's an emotion.