Chapter Text
Chirp Chirp Chirp~
“Venti?” he muttered, every bone in his body aching. Ugh. Did he sleep on his side again? He blinked as the place around him looked oddly bright. Wait. Tilting his head upwards, the cracking tower of the storm god met his gaze. Oh right. He had forgotten…
Stretching his wrists, he scanned his surroundings some more. Today he will leave this place for the first time in his life. He will march towards the southern gate and leave. Leave. His chest panged; a tornado of emotions swelled up inside of him as he took one step after another. Sunlight marks the path as he makes his way closer and closer to the stone threshold. “Okay,” his fingers traced the markings on the walls. Should he say something? He highly doubted he would return to this accursed place.
Reaching for his side, his eyes widened.
Wait.
Oh no!
No no no! His lyre was….
Broken.
Oh, f*ck you Decarabian you owe me a new lyre. Next time he sees that sorry storm sovereign he’s going to bludgeon the breath out of that blundering buffoon. He is going to commit death 2.0 to the guy. You know how much a lyre costs? The oil and fine clothes you need to take care of one? It needs a delicate hand to-
Biting his tongue, he mimicked the movements of playing his beloved instrument. The ones in the houses down below were not the ones that could easily be taken on the road, not to mention he had left his upkeeping equipment in Robert’s bag.
The outside world was so interesting. There were creatures in the woods, but if he followed the trotted path, then he should be able to find people. Soon he came across a river, its waves captivated him for a couple of minutes. So wild. So free. He closed his eyes for a moment. Embracing its sound.
The clouds cast many shadows on the grass, turning the grass from a warm yellowish color to a bluish color. Even when it was covered in darkness, it looked so alive. In its greenery there he saw flowers a rooftop red.
“Oh, what are you~” He smiled, each plant had 2 heads and 5 petals per head. He gently blew at it, frowning as it didn’t move. But as the wind picked up, he pretended that it was his action that caused it. The petals did not look as smooth as the cecelia upon his chest, but he yearned to touch it at least once.
On the plus side, the bugs weren’t touching him. Butterflies, if he remembered the word. Their imagery was plastered all over the old greenhouses. Amos would doodle them on her papers. They did something to plants and helped flowers grow. Their wings looked like jewels, and once more he felt that urge to compose a poem.
Butterfly butterfly, with my eye I wonder why
Butterfly butterfly, do you sing without a voice?
Do you taste without a mouth?
Butterfly butterfly, ride the waves of the sky.
Through the clouds and the rest on the grounds
Butterfly butterfly, yet I must say goodbye.
A jewel you are, makes me feel tongue-tied.
“Could use a 2nd draft.” He muttered. Balancing on some broken stone walls, he continued his journey. “Where did these walls even come from? I thought the only civilization was us. Don’t you need a mine or something to get large amounts of rocks? Venerare and the rest of the Lawrence clan complained so much about building.”
His thoughts were interrupted by a creature in front of him. A boar. So, this was what a boar looked like! He approached the creature; it was sleeping in the sun next to a couple of its kits. It’s puppies? What do you call a baby boar? Boarlet? Its children squirmed in their sleep, while their parent breathed near it.
In the distance was a city full of trees. All of them looked as if they were preparing for a harsh winter. Thick needles of leaves fell from the air as Ventus reached up and failed to grasp any. The barks on the trees occasionally had claw marks in them, was there a pack of predators around here?
No. Those boars wouldn’t be resting here if so. Not to mention there seems to be moss growing within some of the markings. Whatever made its hunting grounds here had moved at minimum a month or so. If they were driven out by humans, then Ventus must have been away for around a month or so.
“No wonder why there was nothing left in Mondstadt. They must have had weeks to take anything of value with them to whatever new location his rebellion traveled to. “He closed his eyes. “Whatever that place was when I died… there must have been some time nonsense going on. Heh, that sounds like something straight out of a fairy tale!”
The claw marks lessened eastwards, so it would be best to go in that direction. Under crumbling arches and bushes full of large purple berries, he could not help but stop to stare. The woods had a smell! It smelled of plants and of trees and wasn’t that amazing!
Before long the forest came to an end, and at that end was a large cliff. Ventus gasped as the sight of a town in the middle of a lake came into view. He could see the distant flags of his rebellion strung in the air. There was a bridge made of wood that people were using. The buildings themselves weren’t arranged in a circle, nor had they been built with no regard for flow.
Squinting slightly, he could make out groups of people by the edges of the island, fishing poles in hand as they shared drinks. On the highest point of the island was a giant stone slab with a duo of carvers working with haste.
He smiled; this must be the new Mondstadt!
Sliding down the stones and hopping over bushes, he raced down the cliff and towards the bridge. If there was any benefit to being dead, it would be not needing to replenish his stamina. There were a couple of poles around the perimeter of the bridge, with lanterns hanging from some of them. He could just imagine the midnight glow from them, being a signal of safe passage to weary travelers.
Laughter. The first thing he heard was laughter. Little Jason and his younger sister ran past him, with their older brother chasing after him. Artists a plenty having their easels out and pallets in hand. He recognized some of them from the Gunnhildr clan, their blonde hair blowing in the wind as they sketched.
The distant sounds of a soprano made him whirl around; he had never heard such a voice in the city. Following the song, he laid eyes upon a person in strange clothing. Were they from another nation? Oh!!! He could barely contain his glee. He had so many questions he wanted to ask. What was it like in those places? How does Mondstadt compare to them? What was the food like? The arts?
Oh, and there’s another! And another! And another! Most of the travelers’ clothing had patterns woven into it, and those who wore tunics usually had white ones instead of the Mondstadt darker ones. Fascinating! Were corsets a Mondstadt-only thing, or was there another nation out there that wore them?
And the shades on their clothes! The fellow by the fountain had such a lovely shade of red! The cloth around the lady’s waist right next to him was a beautiful shade of green! How was it possible to even get such a shade? Perhaps if he listened in, they would hopefully mention it.
“I was right!” The girl giggles, her using a fan to poke at her companion, “It wouldn’t be that cold up north!”
“I don’t get it,” The guy mutters, “The reports say that just a season ago this whole place was covered in a celestial storm. The artifacts of a godly strife. Yet now only morning dew remains.”
The girl keeps laughing, bringing up past explorations with the man. They seemed to have been friends for a long time, traveling from place to place. She compares Mondstadt’s fauna to the boars down south, implying that the ones up north had much fluffier fur. The guy responds with a fact about the meat, bringing up the lean and fat differences. Ventus’s mouth starts to water as tales of foods from afar greet his ears. How spicy was a Jueyun Chili? It sounds way better than the soury street foods he was used to.
The duo continue to talk, but Ventus stops listening. As much as he would love to listen and listen some more, he could feel a presence near. It was one of the many tower’s squires. While the uniform was different, he could tell from the way they stood that they were used to a life of patrolling. This one was watching the couple, occasionally passing by another squire who was doing the same. Were they also gathering information or were they weary of outsiders?
Walking past the soldier, he spots a ladder near one of the many watch towers. Smirking, he ascends.
The sun was beginning to set, and it looked even more beautiful than before. From this point, he could spot many other Mondstadters doing the same thing. It was downright magical to see the distant mountains turn purple, the lake reflecting the pink sun, and the orange sun granting everything one final bit of warmth. He could spot more and more construction from here, other towers much much wider were in the works. Although, the workers seemed to be heading to the same building after their shifts.
Yellow. Pink. Red. Orange. All of these colors, he would never expect them to look so soft. There was a tingling feeling in his eyes, and the bard wiped away the tears. This was it. The sky he had dreamt of for so long. His braid blew in the wind, and he felt something ripple through him.
It was a feather.
He straightened up, and his eyes sparkled as it took in the birds above him. Their wings dancing in the air as they followed the sun. Moving in the formation of a V, he could see the birds occasionally wobble in the wind. As the leader drew weary, they would move to the ends of the pack, allowing another to take their lead.
Oh.
Oh.
This time he did not move his arm to wipe away the tears. Ventus didn’t want to miss any of this, even for a second. Although they were mere silhouettes, they never felt as real as they did right then and there. He wanted to give each of them a name. To bring them berries to eat. To draw them. To sing about them. Hymns could not compare to the sheer majesty of their freedom, of their companionship. They were real. Birds were real. They were flying and he could see them flying!
They came in different sizes too! Some of them swam through the lake, like the people at the pond during the summer season. Others gathered in many swarms, a volley of a hundred feathered arrows.
He tried not to scream in joy as one of the smaller ones landed near him. Grey and white wings, while their necks shined emerald and violet. Wonderful yellow eyes reflected the sky while their sharp beak pecked at their feathers. It did not sense his presence, but he cooed at seeing it preen.
Ventus wanted to pet its chest so much. It looked to be the fluffiest part of it. Its entire body looked as smooth as Venti’s cloak, so would they feel the same? The creature had something by the base of their beak, a heart-looking stripe that made him smile.
How could such a lovely creature exist!
He shifted his head slightly, watching as those gemlike necks simmered in the setting sun. So round their body was, perfect to cusp in his hands. Berries would be jealous of their figure.
The bird chirped some more, calling its friends over. And what a fantastic set of friends they were! Of a similar body shape, most of them were, some having pink and white feathers while others had blue heads. And then there were the birds much smaller and somehow more rounder than the grey bird. These ones had an orange-red chest with funny-looking plumages on top of their little heads! Their claws were downright tiny compared to the other birds, and he adored the way those ones sang.
They bounced up and down, talking to each other. He wondered what they were talking about.
Before long they began to depart. As quickly as they arrived, they lifted their wings and took flight. His blue eyes never lost track of them as they traveled to the distant forest between the two mountains.
He sat upon the edge of the tower until the sky turned a deep blue once more, this time he could spot a pale object in the sky. As big as the sun, yet softer in its radiance. There was only one thing it could be; the moon.
How his people had sung of her beauty since before the city rose. How her dials and markings covered every stone. Dedications to her and her vigil all alone.
He was never a religious man, but seeing the celestial sphere he understood why priests would intone. He couldn’t describe it, but he could hear an aria as he gazed. A piano would fit the sky well, perhaps with a viola to duet with it. No. A violin would be a much better choice.
He shivered; the wind was cold.
Ventus wanted to stay up longer. Trace the stars and make a tale for each constellation.
And so, he did. Giving each cluster an epithet till his eyes grew tired and voice grew weak.
Roasters crow, bringing the city to life and Ventus arose from his slumber. His eyes felt odd, this always happened when he stared for so long without blinking. Grimacing, he closed them as he slowly stood up. The tower he was on swayed in the wind as he shuffled. Whoever the guard was that used it would be coming sometime in the day. He should get a move on before-
Oh. Oh, wait.
Exploring the city can wait an hour.
The sun was high in the sky when Ventus was ready to explore. The wonderful smells from the bakery, run by the same family back in the original city. They waved customers over, and their fruit tarts had more berries in it than the last he visited.
The portions for everything were bigger. The bountiful forests and catches from the hunters and fishermen paled in comparison to the amount of grains the farmers could make. The sunlight worked wonders for the plants and the things they could grow! The things they could grow! One of them was even looking into grafting several types of plants together to make some sort of super berry!
Still, he had a mission for today:
- Find Robert Ragnvindr.
- Find Venerare Lawrence.
- Find Amos.
- Find Magnolia Gunnhildr.
- Find Venti.
His dear red-headed warrior must be somewhere with loads of weapons, so he must be near an armory. The leader of the Lawrence clan was still a Lawrence, and she loved the finer things in life. She would build her home on the highest point and insist on the best view. Amos… there was a chance she left the city. She had brought him towers of tomes from That Place about the outside world, and the yearning in her soul for the sky rivaled his own.
Dearest Magnolia could be anywhere. He could imagine her setting up merchant stalls, hunting in the woods, studying complex math, or training recruits. The knight’s insistence on helping her people will prove troublesome.
The only one that could be more troublesome would be finding where Venti is. The little elf had a habit of disappearing and reappearing at his own convenience.
If his lyre were not broken, he would simply stride his fingers across the strings and sing. Within an instance, his best friend would appear without fail. Perhaps chirping a couple of words in broken human tongue.
Ventus frowned. His lyre. His wonderful, wonderful lyre. Now unplayable. Torn asunder from the gales.
His fingers itched for its smooth wood, to feel the gentle yet firm strings again. Embrace its frame against his chest and-
He should not dwell on this for long. He needed to find his friends.
The golden hair of a Gunnhildr broke his musing. The blonde was running by him, several papers in her hands. It was a miracle it was not flying out of her hands. “Your tax papers for the upcoming season!” chimed her voice. Handing those papers to a nearby business owner she made small talk before approaching the next merchant.
She looked... happy? The fidgeting towards the sky was replaced with a stiffness in her shoulders. Indigo eyes passed right over him as he reached out to touch her. Magnolia reached into her bag, repeating most of the talking points she had with the previous guy.
“Magnolia~.” Ventus waved his hand right in front of her eyes. Not even blinking, she turned away from him and continued her journey down the street. He pursed his lips as he shouted, “Magnolia it’s me! Ventus!!! Your favorite bard!”
The city was so loud, drowning out his silent voice.
He needed to get her attention.
Jumping on top of one of the stalls, he tried kicking the pots and pans on sale. He tried pushing guards on duty. It all gave the same result. Racing after his fellow leader, he tried every trick up his sleeve to make a difference. Ghosts were supposed to be cold right? Yet there did not seem to be any change in temperature to his movements.
She kept muttering under her breath, lost in thought as she made her way to a building in the center of town. It was emblazoned with the symbols of the rebellion and some parts of it were under construction. Other parts looked to be in the middle of painting the wood a soft cloud white. This must be a place of operations for conducting the city. Grumbling, he followed his friend. He grabbed at soldiers’ lances. He ran his hand through her hair. He danced in the middle of the hallway, passing right through passersby.
“A hunting troupe wants this area for hunting ground while the Lawernce wants that area for game. The Radice family want this part to make more vegetables… yet we just approved for them to have the southern side over here..” Magnolia cracked her fingers as she sat in her chair.
Sitting on her desk, he attempted to shake it. Unfortunately, it didn’t work, as if the weight of a thousand bricks was stopping him from doing so. Great. Just Great.
She talks about medicine. Of spices and cures the world over. There are books he could not read on her desk with tales and legacies unimaginable. She is silent as she carefully makes notes. He is still sitting on her desk, muttering non-rhyming ballads.
Magnolia twirls her hair as she works. Her pen tapped against the paper like a drum. It’s a nice sound. She had always been peculiar about pens, hating how some inks would turn out and occasionally accidentally breaking the cheaper ones in half.
The fire in her room gave off a subtle warmth. He imagined it would feel must brighter in person, but he closed his eyes to listen to it crackle.
Hours he spends in that office, trying out every combination imaginable. He tries blowing dust into shapes. He tries sitting in her lap. He ties it all.
She never sees him.
She never hears him.
What if she
No. He must try. He has to try. Ventus could feel that burning sensation in his chest, real like an organ. Even if it takes a million days and nights, he is going to find a way. A way to communicate with his friends and experience the sunlight on his skin.
The sun begins to set, bathing the room in a golden light. Magnolia is smiling slightly as she reaches the end of her paperwork. She looks so happy.
If all his friends are this happy… then perhaps moving on wouldn’t be so-
She moves from her desk, stretching as she grabs the paper. Heading out of her room to drop it onto another person’s desk, Ventus follows her as she opens the door. More and more people are walking out of their houses, including some of the morning shift guards and travelers in the market. They are heading to one side of the city; he furrowed his brow. What could this mean?
The smell hit him before he noticed the sign’s illustration. Alcohol. Someone from the rebellion had set up shop and was having half-off drinks at sundown. Bards of all sorts played in the tavern's exterior while baristas mixed drinks. He watched Magnolia call out to a couple of members of her family and join them for a drink. Everyone in the city was having a merry time, laughing the night away as the population became intoxicated.
It was poetry in motion, from the ways people would tap their feet in dance to the ways the servers would call out drinks. Everyone moved with both reason and without reason, letting their hearts show in their sleeves. His eyes widened as he noted that two annoying members of his rebellion were drinking together- once in a while holding hands. Were they dating? He wanted to know more.
Magnolia was still talking to her family. When he came back, he wanted her to tell him everything he missed. But before he did anything, the soft sounds of a lyre drowned out the chaotic tidal wave of drunken voices.
Clouds above the world, a land of lilacs that forever bloom
Sought they did, to shed the tyrant’s loom.
Whites and Reds and don’t forget Blues.
Colors of every hue, from Yellow to Chartreuse.
Mint peaked through its cracks, as ivy climbed up its walls.
The dandelions of hope drifted with their song.
To the sky and the seas, the people did travel,
Still connected to their homes like stems to their plume.
The winter sun sees it’s farewell, for the birth of spring chimes with the bells
So don’t you freight, don’t you feel gloom.
The words of hope shall sing you anew.
The rain may fall the walls shall shake,
But the spider’s web we are free, and the friends we will make.
From starlight to stardust, winds of companionship do wake.
Trust in us, and see the birds in flight.
“You're getting better at this, Venti.” Magnolia chimed. Ventus turned to see a bard in green, his hat had a golden circle around the top that matched the boy’s cape. She had called him Venti? That’s… wait.
Ventus backed up against the table, glad he couldn’t knock over the drinks. That was his haircut. He had spent so many hours trying to come up with the perfect haircut. That was his haircut that Venti had. Also, Venti was human now. Okay.
BUT WHY HIS HAIRCUT???
He wanted to open his mouth and ask question after question. Amos had nice hair. Magnolia had nice hair! Robert’s would look so good on Venti! Yet despite all this, he could only peter out a “????” The only different thing was the ends of his braids turning an anemo teal.
“Hello Magnolia and co,” his friend smiled. It was a nice smile, Ventus noted. “Good enough for a drink?”
Ventus did not scream.
… Okay maybe he screamed a little bit.
“Magnolia Gunnhildr.” He hissed. “My most trustworthy and reliable friend. My knight. “ The bard kept gesturing between his friends. “I know you can’t hear me but please don’t.” He was on his knees begging. A couple of customers in the tavern stepped through his intangible and invisible body as he dramatically posed. “My friend! Do not!”
Magnolia sighed, holding her hand out to touch Venti’s cheek. “You know I shouldn’t give you this drink. You just learned how to walk.”
“Yes! I knew you were a sane-“
“But.”
“No!” Ventus chanted. “No No No!!!!!” This was his punishment. His eternal suffering. This whole world was a lie, and his little friend was going to drink for the first time. A metaphorical arrow pieced Ventus’s heart. What if his friend becomes an alcoholic? Drunkenly spending all his money at taverns just like this. He was just a little wind wisp! Ventus couldn’t protect a drunk wind elf! He could barely protect a sober wind elf!
To his utter dismay, the Gunnhildrs hand the bard some of their drinks.
Ventus watched as Venti played notes on a lyre so similar to his own.
D A A E G B, Venti plucked at the strings almost absent-minded. D C’ C’ E G B, he continued. Ventus knew that song, it was a simple tune from a ballad long forgotten. Those descended from knights used to hum that song on rainy days. D F D’ D F D’ E’ F’ E’ F’ E’ C’ A.
The blue-eyed bard mimicked the movements and continued the song, A D F G A A D F G E. Echoing the muse he could not see, Venti smiled. “Magnolia, how have you been?”
“The same old same old. Your pronunciation is crisper than before.”
The wind wisp rubbed the back of his neck, “Yeah. Venerare is one heck of a teacher! She wants me to learn ‘proper breathing techniques’ and it’s been.” He shivered. “The walking lessons are now running in the snow lessons.”
“That mountain in the distance? She’s been taking you over there?”
“Yep, that one!” Venti chuckled. Ventus tilted his head. Of course, he made note of the large mountain on the way to the city, but it seemed inhospitable. Venerare…. What are you doing there?
Magnolia’s companion laughed, “At least you aren’t leaning on everything anymore. “
Venti’s face flushed a bright red. Ventus poked his friend’s cheek- his finger passing right through the flesh. When his friend was tinier, he flushed an adorable greenish hue, but to blush was to have red blood. This was not a mere illusion. His friend really had a human body with human attributes.
They continued to talk about the city as Ventus pondered this. He watched his friend’s chest rise and fall, but seemingly out of sync with his shoulder’s movements and the number of words he spoke. Could it be that he didn’t need to breathe as often as a human, or was there something else at play? Talking for minutes on end was an underrated instrument, wind knows how many times he spoke himself sore from inspirational sonnets and such.
Yet there was something else that was bugging him. His friend was traveling light. He did not see a coin pouch on his belt nor any pouch at all. The only thing that he carried was that fancy rosewood lyre. Even while battling against a god Ventus carried things on him. So either his friend has left his belongings in a safe place or…
Magnolia sighed, snapping Ventus out of his thoughts. “Still, the merchants for the festival next week haven’t replied yet. Seriously! It’s a confirmation letter!”
“I could fly over there and deliver it in person.”
“No don’t.” Magnolia rubbed her temples. “Say, you haven’t met the gods down south yet, correct?”
Venti grumbled, “You-know-who won’t let me!” Pouting like a child he crossed his arms, “She keeps talking about how politeness is key. How body language can make words change meaning. Yes, I get that part, but I think I understand it enough.”
“The main god of humanity is the god of contracts, right?” Magnolia’s clan member asked. “She could be worried that you might fall into a contract and give away Mondstadt.”
“Tch.” Venti hissed.
Give away Mondstadt? Ventus’s heart sank as his mind began to race. Things are happening way too fast. Venti is scowling at the thought while the three Gunnhildrs treat this as something that could actually happen. Something… something very wrong has happened here. He didn’t know what, maybe it was his instincts telling him or some after-effect from dying. Something was wrong.
Something was wrong and his dearest friend was in the center of it.
The sea of people is so loud. The city is so loud. People are talking and he can barely keep up. It's so loud it's so loud it's so loud.
Venti.
What did you do?
What happened to you?
What happened while I was gone?
The bard hissed. The people around him are continuing their conversations. He didn’t want to hear the context. He needed to know the context. But…
Ventus stumbled his way out the door, passing thought more and more customers. He needed to think. He needed to write stuff down and connect the dots. He needed his lyre.
There was a dip in the city’s foundations where soldier dummies stood at attention. The invisible boy darted to a bench at the bottom of the stairs. Something was wrong. Something was terribly wrong. Think Ventus! Think! Ignore that horrible feeling inside of you! Ignore the bile in your throat! You need to think! There must be some sort of logical explanation for that. Why was Venti a human? No. He wasn’t human. He had the avatar of a human. That’s… he must have had a power increase since his death. Some sort of magical puberty? No no no. That’s dumb. It only happened after he died on the day of the rebellion.
The Gunnhildr clan were the first ones to tell him about the power of faith. How putting their love and affection towards his friend he would be able to grow. To blossom into something more than a breeze. sh*t. Was this his fault? Ventus held a hand against his eyes. Wishes of wanting to keep his friend a secret popped into his brain like weeds springing between cracks. Something has happened to his friend. “Give away Mondstadt,” that person said. What did that mean? Why would Venti have that power? Why does Venti have so much power?
“Okay okay okay.” He muttered as he tugged more and more on his cloak. The soft yet firm fabric comforted him in the past, unfortunately, it wasn’t doing anything now. “Calm down.”
Give away Mondstadt. Give away Mondstadt.
Give away Mondstadt. Give away Mondstadt.
Give away Mondstadt. Give away Mondstadt.
Give away Mondstadt. Give away Mondstadt.
This is all some joke! It has to be.
There is no way that the clans of Mondstadt put so much adoration into his friend that he was able to go from a ball of light that could barely fit in his hands to a person who could play and sing. There is no way that the rebels he trusted with his life would idolize his young friend into. Someone more. Into…
Into.
Into a god.
“sh*t.” He hissed. So that’s what that feeling was. Mondstadt loved his friend almost as much as he loved his friend. They loved him, yet there was a slight uneasiness in their eyes as they stared at him. His friend could perform a spectacular poem in the most crowded tavern ever seen yet not a single coin would be tossed his way. In a city beautiful in fruits and meats, a meal on Venti’s plate was unseen. He may be their idol, but they were not an audience.
He hates that it makes sense. His friend was some sort of deity now thanks to the prayers and wishes of his rebels. His spark of rebellion has risen to an unburning blaze. His muse could walk among the humans like he always wished he could.
Ventus hiccupped as he rubbed his eyes. Why was he sad? This should be a joyous occasion! His friend could wander the world and taste so many foods. He didn’t need a person to cut his apples into little pieces. He didn’t need his cloak to hide under when it started to rain. His friend could see that wonderful sky every single day for centuries! His friend could do so many things!
For once in his undead life, he was happy no one could hear or see him right now. See the pathetic mess of a bard sobbing over his friend being happy. Cry over the glee in those supernature eyes.
His friend was going to be happy. He was going to be loved. He is loved.
So why did Ventus’s heart break? Why couldn’t he be there to see it all? Be with him under the cold nights and share new foods with him. They were going to travel the world and go from place to place but now. His friend was still in Mondstadt. Discussing things with Magnolia about its future. Venti slept though so many meetings it shouldn’t be him who leads this nation! Why was he angry at this? Why couldn’t he be happy with that innocent smile?
He tried to steady his breathing, using ever technique taught to him, but it was no use.
They both look happy.
Mondstadt is happy.
Mondstadt is happy without him. He should be proud! This is the fruit of his labor!
But why couldn’t he enjoy it! Why couldn’t he be sitting in that tavern with Venti and Magnolia? He was the leader of the rebellion! He should have been the one with the responsibilities! Dealing with merchants over trade deals while sectioning off land to farm! He had been fighting for Mondstadt since the day he could read! Fighting for freedom! Why wasn’t he alive? Why did he die? Why couldn’t he live?
The stars looked fuzzy as tears flooded his eyes. It’s so dark. The sky. His heart. These feelings and thoughts swirl in his head like one of Decarabian’s tornados. Mondstadt being free was his dream, but now it was shattered. Shattered like his precious lyre.
“At least,” he wiped away his tears, “At least they lived.” He wanted to look on the bright side. He had to.
“My dearest warrior, with hair as red as flames and a heart that burns just like one… at least you’re alive. You can live,” he whispered. He reached his hands towards the heavens, pretending to grab those twinkling stars, “You would know what to do.” He leaned against the cold stone steps of the stairs. “You always knew what to do.”
The stars were so beautiful tonight, “Amos, wherever you are.” His throat felt sore, “Please guide me. I don’t know what to do.” He wanted her gentle hands to touch his cheeks. Feel the strength in her hugs as she refuses to let go.
Ventus closed his eyes and dreamed.
“Standing at the frontline, waiting some time, people old and in their prime, two-time~” Venti sang as he sat on the edge of one of the many cliffs of Mondstadt. Ventus was sitting right next to him. Small animals had formed a crowd around the young man. He petted the soft fur of some of the foxes while birds perched above them. A sweet song starts from his lips, Venti’s unblemished face smiles as he plays.
It’s a wonderful song. Full of hope. Full of flight. Whatever lessons his friend has been taking since his death has been doing him well. There is no tremble in his voice. A faint accent of wispy words was the only marker to tell his true nature.
The tune is sung without words, not needing to stop for breathing or water. It’s such a good song.
The bard runs his hands through the grass beneath him. It feels like to him, but it looks warm.
“Petals fall and buds wave in the wind. The seeds of tomorrow grow in the soul. To be an island is the greatest burden of them all. “Venti mutters as he stares off into the ocean that surrounds Mondstadt. Ventus follows his gaze.
It’s stunning. The first time he gazed upon the endless waters around the nation was jaw-dropping. To the boy who had spent his whole life surrounded by walls from all sides, to see the ocean-blue shimmer in the sun’s light was awe-inspiring. Flatter than vales with the smell of salt in its gales. A blue so deep the only way he could compare it would be the fine dress Amos wore.
It’s nice, sitting side by side with his friend.
His friend is looking at the great beyond. What could he be thinking? Does he wish to find a boat and sail the ocean? Venti stops playing as the endless ocean crashes against the rocks below.
“Ventus.” The bard’s heart drops and then soars.
“Yes, Venti?” Please. Please hear him.
“Ventus…” Venti is still looking at the waters below them. The wisp needed to feel the light of his sun, for the moon could only reflect so much. Ventus tries placing his hand on top of his pal’s. His heart sinks like his fingers through his body. The green-cloaked bard continues to play a tune, the animals around them growing drowsy. It’s a calming tune, the one that he used to hum to that little wind sprite during the harshest of winds.
“Venti please talk.” He was never one to beg or pray, but he would do anything to be acknowledged.
It’s quiet.
He hates this.
It’s a consistent rhythm, the pounding of the waves is. A beat that won’t stop and has been going on for millennia. Changing shifting, and going with the flow. Its body is filled with wonders and horrors unimaginable. Deeper than the stars and scarier than the abyss. It’s the only thing making sound. It’s the only thing that Venti can hear at this moment.
He wants to play in those sands below. He wants to run into those waves with Venti by his side. Laugh as they take turns swimming as far as possible. He wants to dream with Venti of traveling this new world together.
Ventus wants to pick up a stone and hear it fall into the depths. Count the seconds before he hears a satisfying crash. He wants to scoop his hands where the sand meets the foam, perhaps gathering a shell or two in his hands.
“They are thriving,” Venti mutters.
“I know. I saw the Gunnhildr teach some of the merchant’s children how to use a polearm.”
“Venerare has started a garden in the back of the church. She put down so many names. I…. I didn’t know everyone on there, but when I saw…. I need to visit more.”
“…”
The elemental being smiles, “I’m getting better at writing! My hand hurts so much from Venerare’s lessons, but she keeps talking about grace and form. I… I never really cared about that, but it feels nice to be called that?” Venti lays into the grass. “Maybe in another decade of practice, my handwriting will be better than yours! Ha…….” His voice cracks as he tries to laugh.
“You can do it. I know you can.”
Venti’s shoulders tremble, “There are so many smells and tastes that this form can perceive. It’s so much sometimes. Having to balance myself with only two feet, no wobbling or tripping. I’m doing way better than weeks ago, but at least I don’t need to lean on anything anymore. It’s getting better Ventus! It’s getting better.”
“…”
Slight tears are forming in Venti’s emerald eyes, “It’s way better. Everyone is so happy and so free. People are singing in the streets. I can sing in the streets! My stomach is full, and I spend the nights laughing with our friends! It’s wonderful!” His breathing quickens. “Mondstadt is doing our best. Venerare made her clan promise to keep the peace and there have been no incidents! They are all so kind…”
He rubs his eyes with the edge of his sleeve, “So why am I sad, Ventus? Why is there a hole in my chest that keeps remembering you? Why can’t I breathe well? Why do I need time to myself? Why aren’t you with me?”
The ghost leans his body near his friend as the immortal hiccups.
The clouds pick up speed as the grass moves faster and faster. The ears of the squirrels and foxes twitch as they soon get up to run. Before long it’s just Venti, alone on the mountain.
The bard wants to reach down and hold his friend’s lyre, play him song after song till the whole world devolves into a world of notes. Trembling turns to trebles and tunes. “I’m right here Venti. I am right here.”
There was a greyness in Venti’s eyes, like the storm walls that surrounded him as a child. Fatigue of playing the same role over and over again. What happened to you? Ventus’s heart breaks once more. What happened to his friend?
They stay there, their hands not touching but their souls still connected. The twin faces mirrored in tears and sorrow.
“Through centuries and memories….,” He sang inaudibly. So many words to say, but none would escape his lips. Practice of pentameter drawing a blank in his brain. Emotions turning in his soul churring so powerfully only a cadenza could compare. The bard whistled a tune under his breath, trying to hold his friend. The birds could not hear him. The world could not hear him. His world, sitting in the grass in his hands, could not hear him.
“Tragedy and comedy; the sun and moon of song and dramaturgy. The nest you seek, little bird, it welcomes you every time. Sticks and twigs crackle under your weight, but it’s an embrace-one that would die than forget. Rest your weary soul, dove among droves.” Ventus mourned as he felt his very soul shake at his own words, “My perfect pixie, smile with the world on my behalf. Feel their heartbeats with your ears. Sing songs till your voice aches with happiness. Fly fly my love and keep your spirits high. For me. Please.”
As usual, his words fell on deaf ears as Venti stayed grounded. The bard reached his hand to caress the cheek of his friend, but it was no use. Was this his punishment for Deicide? Would he be haunting these lands until his friends joined him? Or would they pass on one by one before his very eyes- not hearing him as he begs for them to haunt the world alongside them?
How long will Venti walk this world? Would he really wait that long for his little friend?
Of course, he would. It was Venti.
He would do this all over again for every one of his friends.
“I won’t stop, Venti. I will find a way to hold you once more.” Ventus spoke softly, “I’m right here. I’m with you.”
“I miss you.”
It’s anticlimactic how he learns of Amos’s fate. Venerare Lawrence made a cemetery behind one of the big buildings. Front and center is the name Ventus. No last name, but she did at least list some of the other names he went by over the years. He has been called Carmen. He has been called Himmel. His favorite is when they just refer to him as Bard. These epithets have more meaning to him than his last name and she knows that. The only thing Imunlaukr of him are his eyes, and even then….
Hey, at least she didn’t put 'Ventus L. I.'.
He was about to make a quip about it, say some line about how she’s only nice to him cause he’s dead. That wow! That giant bouquet of flowers was for him! How touching~
Then he sees it.
Amos.
It’s so small, but he’s paralyzed by it. “Her heart was as strong as her bow.” It reads underneath it. For a moment he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He hates how casual it is. How her name and her legacy are words on a rock. It’s so simple. She would have wanted a simple gravestone but seeing it? It filled his mouth with bitterness. She didn’t deserve this. She was the one to strike the final blow against that man. She should have been free. Free to live and see the world once more.
She’s dead.
Oh f*ck.
Ventus’s knees buckled as he traced the stone engraving. How? She was right there beside him as the walls crumbled down. The fire he started drove the storm lord to the very peak of his tower, and once that arrow hit the walls shuddered. She was grabbing his hand as Robert yelled orders to his fellow warriors. Venti was clinging desperately to his hood as they ran down the stairs. He remembered thinking to himself, “If only he could fly like Venti, and glide down.” He wanted to yell at his friend to save himself, but smoke entered his lungs.
Amos was stumbling as they exited. Her hand’s barely able to lift her bow. Then Ventus felt it, shards of the tower piercing his body. He remembered the warm blood trickling down his back as Robert held him tighter and tighter.
Was it then that Amos perished? She was a couple of feet away from him, and so she couldn’t have been hit then. Was there a second collapse? No. The place Robert laid him was so far away to the collapsing tower. The last thing he remembered was arrows piercing into his body, falling from the floor above.
His mind fills with thoughts of hunting tragedies, of wild beasts tearing into her or tasting a poison berry she couldn’t handle. No. It couldn’t have been either of those things. Amos was Amos! The only thing stronger than her strength was her love.
She was still dead.
Amos was dead.
How could he ever put into words the cavity that’s in his chest from this? She didn’t deserve this. How could she die? She was Amos! Her eyes would have seen any blow towards her. Her swiftness should have allowed her to dodge anything! She was the only archer who could draw her bow within Decarabian’s uproar. Be able to stand on her own two feet as her world crumbled. She did not deserve to die.
The worst part was that he wasn’t crying. It was just numbness. Ventus knew he should feel sadness, and he did! He feels denial, anger, and all those not-fun emotions! However, it didn’t feel real. Her name was as elegant as her jewelry, yet it was not tangible.
He traced the stone once more. There was no moss growing on it or anything. Frozen to her side, the bard sat by her for a long time. He spoke to her grave, reminiscing on happy times they shared. It did not lessen the chill in his heart, but it did make him feel something. He watched as the cloud’s shadows moved, coating the cemetery in a hazy grey. He was exhausted, of standing up, of talking, of trying to connect to his friends. Is she out there in that afterlife, perhaps waiting for him? She must be so alone.
It would be easy to find his way back. He could feel it on the tip of his soul, that rest was always an option.
“Sorry Amos,” He muttered, “I….” what was he supposed to say? He wanted to continue to check in on his friends. Continue to try again and again to alert them of his presence. They all looked so happy. Well, everyone except his red-headed warrior. The warrior that was still missing, gone like the wind. He was even more of a ghost than Ventus, for under subtle breaths he could hear a faint muttering of his name from his old rebels.
“A part of me wishes that Robert Ragnvindr is with you,” Ventus’s blue eyes struggled to meet the grave, “for if not your solitary is going to last a while longer.” The numbness was gone, replaced by a shattering thorn in his chest. “Mondstadt and our friends… I need to be with them. I have so many questions that need to be answered. Am I the first to come back, or have we been walking with ghosts our whole lives?” He could feel a burning, his ambition lighting a fire in his heart, “Or is it some sort of divine prank? A curse from our… from my hated enemy.”
He hummed, “Seriously Amos. What did you even see in the guy?”
“See in who?”
