Chapter Text
Windblume preparations were livelier this year. By far. It was beautiful, in its own way. Venti loved this time of year. He really did. It made his feet light on the stone streets of his city. Made his fingers fly across the strings of his lyre. The air was sweet with the taste of apples; bright with the scent of Mondstadt’s flowers. There was laughter abounding – joy on the wind that tugged at his hair, his clothes. It brought a smile to his face. Tears to his eyes. It was almost Windblume, and all was well.
Humming to himself, he skipped to the Angel’s Share. The tavern had quite a few people here already, least of all Aether. The Traveler's floating companion too. Kaeya and Diluc were, as near always, in a stalemate of wills. Sister Rosaria sat in the corner; cool eyes half hidden behind her mug. Venti, wisely, left her to her own devices, instead turning his attention to the little group at the bar.
But - leaning on the wall beside Aether? Oh. Oh, now wasn't this a sweet surprise? Her horns were almost entirely hidden under twining Glaze Lily decorations, but he recognized her all the same. Whatever could draw the Pavilion's Adeptus secretary out from the harbour? From Liyue? To Mondstadt at a time of celebration, no less? How delightfully curious. This was most unusual indeed.
"My oh my, Ganyu, is that you? Angel's Share isn't the place I'd think to see an Adeptus of your status. Not that it's a pity to see your fine features in Mondstadt's fair city. Don't mind Paimon's chatter or Kaeya and Master Diluc's clatter, my friend, what's the matter? You seem in distress, despite your festival dress - far too be-gloomed regardless of the Glaze Lilies in your hair bloomed."
Rhyming was comforting. Soothing. Familiar. And familiar, so too, was the look on Ganyu's face as she turned towards him, bell jingling faintly. She looked lost. Confused. Anxious. Aether's warm eyes found him too, and all the Traveler did was shrug. Clearly, he did not know any more than Venti did. Curious. Curiouser and curiouser still.
Ganyu's hands wrung like water from cloth. Smiling, he stepped further into the tavern. This clearly would be a private conversation, and upstairs had fewer ears. He was no fool - he was far too old to be. Foolish? Yes. But playing the fool was not the same as being one. Not at all. He knew that better than most, despite what some thought. Mostly Diluc and a few others, really.
They sat down, the three of them. Paimon floated at Aether's side, a puzzled frown creasing her face. But it was Aether, not Ganyu, who leaned forward to speak. Venti waited, an empty mug rolling between his palms. Let Aether gather his thoughts like one gathered a string of notes into a melody.
"Venti, you haven't seen Xiao, have you?"
...Huh...? Alatus? What did he have to do with -
The mug fell to the table with a dull thud. Venti was sure his eyes were a storm, wind tugging at his clothes as it eddied around him. He couldn't lose another one, Celestia dammit. He couldn’t - he couldn't - It felt like all the air had been sucked from his lungs, and he felt the ache in his chest. The loss of his gnosis had faded to a dull pain, but now it tore through him like a violent gale. He ran trembling fingers along the bonds of power connecting him to his Vision bearers. Jean, Sucrose, Kazuha, Sayu - countless more - and Xiao. His laugh was relieved.
He blinked, finding his cheeks wet with tears. The others at the table were watching him with open concern - and the addition of Diluc hovering nearby only made him feel worse. Panic was rare for him, and such arresting panic was rarer still. But Xiao was okay. It helped. Helped to calm him; helped to breathe easy. Xiao was okay. He was. Skies, cecilias – Venti would have bolted if not.
"He's okay, Aether. I would know otherwise."
"Master Venti?" Ganyu's voice was soft. He didn't think it ever wouldn't be, even during her work. (He was pointedly ignoring Diluc's scoff at the way she addressed him.) "Madame Ping said Xiao had recently approached her about his abode. Getting ideas for it. And for a garden. She also mentioned he'd asked her to see about the procurement of a new Dihua flute, to replace his old one. For the Glaze Lilies, he told her."
Glaze Lilies? Garden? Flute? Xiao, Xiao, played an instrument? Be still his immortal heart. His nod was awfully distracted, turning to look out over the room. Diluc gave him one last unimpressed look, muttering something about tone deaf bards as he headed back down to the main floor. He ignored that too. Diluc cared, in his own way. The third floor was Venti's space now; it had been that way for months. After Aether had first left for Liyue, in fact. It was modest. Cozy.
Much like Xiao's teapot abode was.
His visit to said abode had been peaceful. He could, however, ruminate on it later. There was work to be done. He could think about the peace and quiet of Xiao's teapot realm at another time. After he'd gotten answers as to what had happened to Liyue's yaksha. It wasn't like Xiao to travel. The adeptus was contract bound to Liyue, and had rarely set foot outside the nation's bounds. Coaxing him beyond Stone Gate was nigh impossible. Venti would know. Not for a lack of trying either. Didn't matter if it was for a song.
Or the flowers of Mondstadt. Flowers he knew the adeptus longed to see with his own eyes.
"Paimon and I found Ganyu talking to Madame Ping. So, we figured we'd accompany her to where she needed to go - wherever that might be. We checked most of his usual haunts. His lantern viewing spot included. But nobody had really seen much of him. Hu Tao said she'd talked to him recently; Zhongli had sent him the usual painkillers. Even the folk of Wangshu Inn haven't seen him lately - though Verr Goldet did say that what little she had seen of him, he seemed more at ease. Still vigilant, of course, but less like he was a block of stone. Less tense. That he was humming to himself. Fingers tapping the grip of his spear. It struck her as odd, so it stood out."
Aether was right. That was unusual, but not overly so. He had gifted Xiao a giant harp that played music on its own. To soothe the weight on his shoulders. The burden of being Liyue's only yaksha, as he had been for hundreds upon hundreds of years now. It was entirely possible he was just humming along to the songs the harp played. Venti’d had it crafted specifically with Xiao in mind.
“When I visited the yaksha in his abode, I went carrying gifts,” It was quiet; a little embarrassed. He hadn’t thought he’d need to bring this up - not when he considered it private. Personal. Between him and Xiao. “Madame Ping and Zhongli have something of a running bet going when it comes to Liyue’s Conqueror of Demons and a ‘certain’ bard. The bard? Yours truly. I know few Adepti have time to rest, considering the nature of their contracts, but that one is worse than most. One of the gifts was an Anemo infused harp. It, ah, plays itself. I know he has little talent for harp or lyre. That might be why he appeared more relaxed. He was.”
He shook his head, chuckle wry and a touch bitter. He knew who Zhongli was. How could he not? It was a relief that he wasn’t the only original Archon left. Yet to think that old blockhead called him dramatic. There had to have been a better way to step down. To retire. Bound up in contracts and theatrics, all one big test to see if Liyue could handle it. Honestly now.
It made him feel tired. Made him feel his age for once. He could do without that feeling.
Ganyu stared at him, hands covering her mouth. It didn’t do much to hide her surprise though. The smile he gave her was weary, but a smile all the same. It’d just clicked. Who he was. He’d thought it might. Then again, no-one had seen Mondstadt’s Archon for a very long time. And as Barbatos? Well, he had his duties to do, sure. Such duties were easier to do walking among his people. Some considered this a laissez-faire approach. He knew it was. What of it?
He’d sworn never to rule his lands for a gods’-damned good reason.
His sigh tangled like a whirlwind knotted in his chest.
“If the Vigilant Yaksha doesn’t want to be found, Miss Ganyu, even Aether would have trouble finding him. Few can summon him; few have either the permission or authority to do so. I know Aether can, but he is loath to leave his lands. Even for the Traveller. Music is a balm to a weary soul - with my gift, all he needs is to return to his personal realm for respite. He could be anywhere in Liyue, for few have roamed the land as long and often as he. It matters not if it’s the highest peak or the calm waters of a marsh - he roams like the wind gifted under glider wings.”
"Tone Deaf Bard?" Paimon floated closer, frowning slightly. "You're not rhyming. You haven't for a while. And you seem tired. Paimon's sure Ganyu can stay in Aether's teapot for the night. Perhaps we should come back to this later? Paimon thinks you should get some rest. Even if she's curious why you haven't yet called Xiao by name. He has one, you know. She's sure you know. You're you!"
The laugh that tumbles out of him is genuine. "Your faith, in this case, is not misplaced. I do indeed know his name. But I am not Zhongli, with authority to demand the presence of a wanderer, see? I was granted permission long ago - I do not utter his name to the wind to send; because he will always answer so. He is kind, yet a troubled soul. Peace is all I offer with him in mind: all kinds of freedom, my goal. To think of the idea of rest? Is nice. Windblume buds tomorrow at dawn; t’would be nice to face the light of the sun with zest."
Soon, Angel's Share is quiet. Diluc leaves last, and gives Venti a concerned look before he does. Very few in the city knew of his Archon status. Aether and Paimon, whenever they visited - then Jean and Diluc. Diluc could only pretend to hate him for so long, and Jean always delighted in his tales of Mondstadt past. Especially tales of dear Vennessa. All the same, Diluc's concern was appreciated. That man had been a brother, once. Still was, when he thought Kaeya wasn't looking. Venti's gift to Jean was a gift to her sister as well - Barbara loved time with family. It was the least he could do for them. When one considered all that which they had done to help him and Dvalin, that is.
A faint breeze ruffled his hair through the open window, tugging at his braids. It made the drapes flutter, and he closed his eyes. Ah, this was music to his ears. Leaning on his windowsill, he listened to the sounds of Mondstadt as it slept. The faint creak of the windmills as they turned, hushed cascades of water from the fountain in the main square.
He leaned back from the window; the loose shirt he wore to bed cool against his skin. The shirt was silky, and showed off his back, with a high collar. A collar that lay open, the barest glimpse of a tattoo glittering gold and teal as it lay at the base of his throat. He wore little to bed, beyond sleep wear. Clothes that didn't stick to his skin. His shorts were comfortable, and one sock covered foot was tucked under him. The other leg was bare; another tattoo peeking out from under the fabric of his shorts. He dared not bring his wings out, no matter how much he longed to. These days, he tended to disguise them as a glider he'd seen the Traveller use - but he missed flying. Not gliding, flying. Properly.
Sighing, he fell back onto his bed. Deft fingers undid his braids as he sat there, looking over his belongings. His cape draped over a chair, hat hanging off its normal hook. The bookshelf full of books - music and history related both. Including the original Skyward Atlas. There were a handful of recipes - Aether had suggested he try them, because he thought they might be to Venti's tastes - lying on the table, as well as a scattering of cecilias, crystal cores and dried qingxin. A lone potted Glaze Lily. It had been a gift from the old blockhead, Zhongli. An attempt to see if it would bloom. Which, wonderfully? It had.
The smell of it was sweet, and mingled with the breeze. Music was important to making sure Glaze Lilies bloomed, and songs even more so. They were a Liyuean specialty, true, but Mondstadt was a land of wind and song as well as wine. It was a shot in the dark, but if one Glaze Lily could bloom, perhaps there was a chance to save the flowers Zhongli preserved in memory of his beloved Guizhong. Venti understood. Better anyone, what love and loss could do. Grief. How it felt to lose someone dear. He knew countless times over by now.
It lingered in his memory every Windblume.