Chapter Text
“Morax, do you remember when I got drunk and dumped wine on your head?” Venti sent Zhongli a smirk, and leaned forward so that he was now bent over Zhongli’s large wooden desk.
Zhongli, as usual, didn’t even look up from his work. “Which time, Barbatos? There were so many, as we both know.”
Venti giggled, running a finger down Zhongli’s muscular arm. “I’m talking about the time you didn’t chuck a giant meteor at me.”
Zhongli chuckled, recalling the memory fondly. “It was only because I was enchanted by your song.”
“You mean one of my ‘drunken shanties,’ as you call them?”
Zhongli didn’t so much as bat an eyelash. “Indeed.”
Venti wasn’t fazed, as he was more than used to these passive responses by now. “Perhaps if you acquired some wine for me, we could reenact that memory.”
Zhongli glanced at Venti for only a moment. “Barbatos, are you offering to pour wine over my head in an attempt to convince me to provide you with alcohol? That won’t work, you know. As they say, fool me once, shame on you, fool me 17 times…hm…I don’t remember where I was going with that…”
Venti cackled, slumping into the desk. “You sure are one tough rock to crack, Morax. Guess I’ll just have to bug you for the next few hours since I won’t have anything else to entertain me.”
Morax stood from his desk with a groan. “Wine it is, then.”
Venti let out a cheer as Zhongli slowly left the room, but as soon as the door was sealed, Venti’s face took on a dark expression. He knew he only had a little bit of time before Zhongli hobbled back in there and there wasn’t a second to spare. He took a deep breath, and summoned the loose anemo energy within him, gathering into a powerful, glowing ball between his hands. This ball of wind howled much louder than he anticipated, but this only brought a smile to Venti’s face.
He was getting stronger.
Not strong enough to defeat the almighty lord of geo, of course, but enough to at least put up some kind of fight. That’s all he needed, anyways. Zhongli sometimes sent wimpy little rocks in Venti’s direction if he was being annoying, but it wasn't as if Zhongli would ever hurt him for real. It had been months since Zhongli imprisoned Venti, and he knew that the only way Venti would be set free is if he scared Zhongli.
Over the past few weeks, Zhongli had been out of the house more and more often, leaving Venti alone to his own devices. He was working on something called a “Rite of Parting.” Venti had no clue what it was, mainly because it seemed boring and he spaced out whenever Zhongli talked about it.
Being alone had only made Venti more restless. Not only was he being forced to stay in one place, but the one person he could interact with was now gone half of the time. He was thankful he had more time to build his skills, but he still missed Zhongli’s company.
Not that he would ever admit that.
——-
“Morax, do you think anything bad will happen to me now that I don’t have my gnosis?” Venti asked this as he lay in bed next to Zhongli, staring at the ceiling.
Zhongli let out a sigh, bringing one hand down to rest on Venti’s stomach. “Of course I do. You won’t be able to regenerate or heal outside of being near a statue anymore, which is incredibly dangerous.”
Venti shook his head, tilting his face so he could look Zhongli in the eye. “No, I mean like erosion, memory loss, losing my human form? I don’t fear death, but these things kind of scare me.”
Zhongli thought for a moment. “A gnosis isn’t a vision. I don’t think losing it has the same effects. And I believe that erosion wouldn’t affect such a young and carefree god. Especially one that hibernates in order to maintain his power. You should be fine. I know this.”
“How?”
Zhongli gave him a small smile in contrast to the nostalgic sorrow in his eyes. “I just do. I’ve had my own experiences with this subject. Erosion is different for everyone. My dear friend’s came in the form of lost memories. Mine is watching friends perish and the nation I built move on without me. I believe what you have lost is time.”
Venti felt a lump grow in his throat. He let out a dry laugh. “Well, what else am I supposed to do? Sit around for millennia and turn into dust like you?”
Hurt flashed in Zhongli’s eyes, and Venti immediately wanted to take it back.
“Of course not, Barbatos. You do as you please. Now, let’s go to sleep, shall we?”
Venti only nodded, relaxing as Zhongli moved in closer to him, enveloping Venti’s small frame in his.
The dull ache in Venti’s chest remained until morning.
——
When Venti rose late the next morning, Zhongli was no longer laying in the bed beside him, as usual. However, what was unusual was the note written in Zhongli’s pristine handwriting on his special stationery, which, of course, has its own backstory the same as every other object Zhongli owns.
It read:
I will be gone for the next few days. Do not worry about me, as I just need to take care of some very important business. I have extended your living space to include the majority of my home, which you may roam freely. There should be enough food, water, and yes, wine to last you at least two weeks, though I will not be absent for that long.
Forever yours,
Morax
Venti chuckled, setting the note back down. While he wasn’t pleased that Zhongli had him imprisoned in this stuffy house just to leave him alone for days, he did like the idea of rummaging through his stuff and drinking all of his booze in revenge.
First, however, he felt the need to check if there were any weak spots in Zhongli’s fortress.
He crossed the large bedroom and opened the door. As Zhongli said in his letter, the geo bars that normally trapped him in the room were now gone, and he could now enter the hallway. Venti cautiously placed one foot out the door, testing the waters and checking that this wasn’t some kind of retaliation for his endless pranks (which were hilarious, by the way).
Nothing happened to his foot, so he figured it would be fine to assume the rest of his body would be safe. He ventured into the long hallway, and started trying doorknobs. As he expected, many of the doors were locked, but he eventually found one that would open.
It led to a steep stairwell, and Venti felt his heart leap in his chest. This must lead to a basement, he thought. Or, perhaps, a wine cellar.
It took every ounce of self control Venti had in his little body to keep him from haphazardly flinging himself down the stairs, and instead, he continued to venture down the long hallway, searching for any windows that may be lacking bars or perhaps a door that leads outside.
Unfortunately, Zhongli was thorough as ever, and every exit was blocked by sturdy ground walls and impenetrable geo bars. Venti took in the great expanse of the high vaulted ceilings in the foyer (which must have great acoustics), and the beautiful gardens (also completely encased in geo bars), and though it was a very nice and comfortable space, all he could think about was how this was his prison. There was no escaping this cage.
With a heavy sigh, Venti, headed back toward the basement, praying to…himself, he guessed, that there was some wine down there to drown his sorrows in.
Thankfully, his suspicions were correct. Alongside a ton of useless crap (Zhongli truly is a hoarder), there was a wine cellar down the long winding staircase. Venti laughed gleefully when he caught sight of at least a hundred bottles of wine lining the walls. It was quite a bit of wine, but definitely not enough to last him two weeks. Maybe a week and a half at the most.
Venti strode along the wall, running his finger along the labels of the bottles nearby until he landed on an enticing bottle of Osamanthus wine. He smirked as he took the bottle, feeling the weight of it in his hands.
He dropped his voice down an octave, mimicking Zhongli. “Osamanthus wine tastes the same as I remember, but where are those that share the memory?” He gazed into the distance, stroking his chin thoughtfully. He chuckled to himself, amused by his own joke. “I’m right here, blockhead,” he whispered to himself, barely even processing the words coming from his mouth.
He paused for a moment as a new wave of sadness washed over him. He could only imagine what it must have been like for Zhongli, having to wait five hundred years just to see the person who once vowed to never leave his side. Venti felt a pang of guilt, but he soon enough popped open the bottle of wine and got to work drowning his sorrows, taking swigs straight from the bottle. Within minutes the bottle was empty, and of course, he followed it with another, and another, and another…
Ten bottles of wine later, Venti was thoroughly intoxicated, sprawled out on the hard stone floor, dreaming peacefully about people who left this world long, long ago. Those whose faces have been washed away from his memory by the cruel waves of time.
There was a reason Venti chose his current form, after all.
——
Several days later, an exhausted Zhongli returned home to find a drunk little bard passed out in the middle of his basement, surrounded by dozens and dozens of empty wine bottles. His initial reaction was one of disgust, though he stood there for quite a while, examining the way Venti’s face twitched so cutely as he dreamt and the way he snuggled an empty bottle like it was a stuffed toy.
Zhongli had opened up the rest of the house to Venti in hopes that he could enjoy the high ceilings, good acoustics, and the massive screened-in garden he designed specifically for him. However, he should have known Venti would only waste his days away emptying his wine cellar.
He considered shaking Venti awake, but ultimately decided against it. Instead, he scooped the hopeless alcoholic into his arms, and carried him back into the bedroom.
Somewhere along the way, Venti did end up waking up, and he began to squirm in Zhongli’s arms. “Unhand me, you brute!” His words were slurred and nearly incomprehensible- a testament to how much wine he really had.
Zhongli laughed as he gripped Venti’s form tighter to prevent him from falling. “Did you enjoy your vacation from me?”
Venti rolled his eyes and buried his head into Zhongli’s shoulder, blocking out the cruel morning light. “No,” he grumbled, sounding more genuine than Zhongli was expecting.
Zhongli raised his eyebrows in shock, before his face softened into a warm smile. “I see. I assumed you would enjoy the time alone. My apologies.”
“It’s so boring here.” Venti’s voice was muffled by the front of Zhongli’s suit.
“It’s alright. I’ll have much more time for you now that I’ve gotten all of this out of the way.”
Venti had no clue what he was talking about, but in his drunken stupor, he couldn’t care less. He hiccuped, wiped his nose on Zhongli’s dress shirt, and immediately fell back asleep before they could even reach the bedroom.
Zhongli set him down gently on the bed, taking out a handkerchief to wipe Venti’s… fluids… off of himself. Despite this, he let out a content sigh, knowing that he will never again have to endure another day without Venti by his side.