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Venti was, to say the least, a tad bit terrified.
From the way he squirmed in his seat, kicked his legs, and strummed the same scale on his lyre over and over, it was quite obvious that the bard had something troubling him. How strange; the boy was known for his graceful mannerisms and smooth speech, so just what could be so nerve-wracking to leave him in such a tizzy?
Barbara hopped down from the stepladder to walk over to the fretting bard. "Venti," she frowned, "What's wrong?"
The boy in question blinked and jolted, as if he was only just realizing that the deaconess had approached him. He gave his eyes a moment to focus on the girl, before closing them with a sigh and a tired smile. "I'm afraid this stress is leaving me quite a mess," he rhymed, straightening his posture on the church bench and looking up. "I confess I feel less when placed with a press to dress to impress."
With a soft exhale, Barbara sat herself on a bench infront of Venti, then turned around to face him. "I know how patriotic to Mondstadt you are, but Windblume preperations are a group effort. The responsibilty doesn't fall on just you."
The bard's eyebrows furrowed, as if he wanted to say something, but instead he merely bit his bottom lip, keeping silent as Barbara carried on. "What I'm saying is, don't feel like you're obligated to make this perfect. Don't crush yourself with your own expectations."
The idol smiled in what she hoped was a reassuring fashion, observing the other's gaze on her. To her surprise, he let out an all-too familiar giggle.
"No wonder you're the face of the cathedral; you excell at encouraging even the gloomiest people." Though his words vague, Venti didn't expand upon them, and instead got up and left.
Barbara worried her lip. Even though the bard was smiling, he was still doing that... thing. The rhyming. To one less familiar with him, it would appear normal, but the girl knew better. 'Just what is it that he isn't saying?'
She knew she should feel happy that the curious boy at least trusted her enough to display his worries around her so openly. The idol lightly slapped both of her temples, and spun around sharply to return to her work. At that point, the most she could do was pray for Barbatos to bless him with a happy ending.
'I believe in you.'
☆
She had just finished tying a ribbon as white as a cecilia's petals when she heard the sound of heels echoing down the hall. Expecting to see a nun, though hopefully not Rosaria, she turned, only to meet with someone she hadn't been expecting to see.
"Jean?" Barbara questioned, surprise lacing her sugary voice. "What can I help you with?"
'Aren't you too busy with all your important duties to visit a mere deaconess like me?,' she doesn't ask.
Casting a sweeping glance around the room with her all-too similar sky-blue eyes, Jean replied, "Where's Venti? I thought he was supposed to be overseeing the cathedral, as this year's coordinator." Barbara frowned.
"He was, but he left in a hurry not too long ago."
'Of course you're only here for the bard,' she doesn't lament.
The Dandelion Knight sighed, thanked the girl, and walked away, muttering something under her breath that Barbara couldn't quite make out; though, she doesn't care to.
'Talk to me more,' she doesn't request.
☆
The Anemo Archon, who lost his sense of time many a year ago, could tell the days were ticking down. He penned a day on the handheld-calender he aquired specifically for this occasion, and furrowed his brows. Four days left.
He bit his finger to resist the urge to bite his tongue off, allowing himself expression in his lonesome. Four days left to make an entire city feel complete, and yet, despite being what many would describe as perfection itself, something was still off.'You see, this is what happens when I try to be responsible,' Venti bitterly thought to winds that weren't there with him.
All this effort, all this worry, just for someone who stole his heart right from underneath him in under a year. Celestia above, it was pathetic; a God allowing himself to feel so mortal?
And yet he basked in the feeling, in the freedom. He loved the emotions, the experiences, his new life gave him. He would rather nothing more than the oh-so human life he lead.
Just how was it that Aether, a fellow immortal, could understand human emotion so easily? It was admirable. Lovable.
...Ah. There he goes again, getting carried away.
He almost wishes it wasn't so easy to let the wind lead.
☆
His nerves were killing him. He was shuddering in his own skin, seams nearly bursting from how much anticipation was welling up inside his own body.
Even when that child of his on the bridge cried out angrily at them, Venti couldn't make out a word, for his gaze was too focused on the awing amber eyes of his affections, the boy's long, messy but not tangled golden hair swaying in the breeze. A breeze that threatened to swirl around and around furiously, but gentle nevertheless.
Aether looked so happy, his features glittering from the spring-blessed sunlight, akin to those stars he wielded. His braid twirled, complimenting the fluttering white wings on the pigeons that flew around the pair. He was beautiful, he was breathtaking, he was everything. Oh, how Venti wished to weave his fingers through the other's hair, how he longed to dance with the boy in the gleam of the sun, how he could only dream to kiss the Traveler with a smile blooming on his very own lips. Lips that spun melodies of new and weaved tales of old, but could never begin to describe the rush of emotions the bard felt within his chest.
And so, those words would have to wait.
"Traveler, are you excited?" Venti asked, hesitant to hear a response. "Surely praise is due to the bard who dressed Mondstadt anew."
Aether chuckled in response, "Of course. Even the bridge looks beautiful." 'Though not as beautiful as-'
The boy was having trouble willing his face to not flush entirely over from the compliment. "It's just cecilia bouquets, my dear."
"Expertly-placed cecilia bouquets."
Venti couldn't help but roll his eyes from the teasing. May the Traveler never change.
...Ah. They were almost to the gate. Venti gripped onto the other's gloved hand as they neared the two guards stationed out front, ignoring how the very action caused his own heart to accelerate. He waved to Swan and Lawrence out front, "Good morning, noble knights. I hope the rush and traffic has been quite alright?"
Swan- the guard on his left, Venti noted- chuckled, "Yes, quite. It was much busier yesterday, thanks to visitors coming to book into an inn room." The guard brushed back his bangs with his right hand, appearing sheepish.
"...I'm glad the thick of it is over," the Traveler chimed in, semi-distracted by the decor that framed the city's interior.
"So am I," Lawrence laughed, revealing a grin. "Go on now, you two enjoy your day together."
And if he had flashed the bard a knowing look, well, the bard had decided to assume that it was a mere trick of the light.
☆
It isn't until Aether grips his hand harder that he realizes, 'Oh. We're still holding hands.'
And yet, he couldn't bring himself to let go. So he held on while they walked past familiar faces, while they raced through the stone streets streets with wind threading through their hair, capes billowing behind them, while they giggled whole-heartedly after being swept into a crowd in front of the lower-most fountain to dance. And how beautiful Aether had been, afternoon light dying his silken golden hair pink, amber irises twinkling in the sun that complimented his eyes so well. The boy was a quick learner, Venti realized; it had nary been five minutes before the pair were already ready to pick up the pace. The bard allowed himself to twirl, to smile, to embrace, before he detached himself when they finished, as to hide the speed at which his beating heart had spiked. But he was happy, oh-so happy, and so warm, finally for a reason besides the wine he had treated himself to all-too often. Would this continue on for the rest of the festival? He could only hope.
When the sun had fully set, and the remaining moon had awoke, Venti had one last place he wanted to bring the Traveler to for the day. Under a windmill, resting on west Mond, there was a small garden. Hardly a soul visited in recent days besides Goth; however, that old man would have had to be kept busy with the recent surge of customers, Venti was sure. When the two arrived, the bard gently pulled Aether down onto one of the two wooden benches that sat in front of a small fountain, surrounded by windflowers.
"So, Traveler dearest," Venti started, resisting the urge to fidget with the end of his cloak, "How did you find the first day of Windblume?"
The wistful gleam in Aether's eyes was gorgeous. "Everything I had hoped it would be, and more. You did good," he smiled. Venti couldn't help but bow his head, chastising himself for being such a mess.
"Well, it had to be perfect for you, didn't it?"
That... wasn't what he was hoping to say. A simple, 'it's nothing,' would have sufficed. 'You love-struck idiot of an archon.'
Aether had widened his eyes, in what Venti could only assume was either surprise or concern. Perhaps a decent mix of both. "For... me? Is that why you've been so stressed-out?"
"Huh?"
A sheepish laugh, "Barbara told me, and Jean had mentioned it in passing...," silence, then, "Oh, do you want to come down here with me?" The Traveler had moved to sit himself in the grass behind them. Hesitant, though unwilling to decline any offer the other had made, Venti lowered himself in front of Aether.
Quickly, yet efficiently, the boy pulled at flower stems, weaving them together while the bard watched on in awe. When he was finished, in his hands rested a flower crown comprised of orange, white, and blue flora, with dots of pink peeking through the spaces. Soon enough, it instead rested on Venti's head, the boy in question struck speechless as the other gently brushed a few bangs out of his face. Aether was saying something, but Venti couldn't register them, as he only continued to stare.
He would treasure this gift forever, all-too familiar with how long 'forever' would be.