Chapter Text
…
“Hey Xiao,” said Venti, lazily floating in the air on his back, fingers loosely strumming at his lyre.
“How did you get in here,” said Xiao, and narrowed his eyes. Venti giggled, and flipped over, down onto his feet, his lyre disappearing into a shower of blue sparks.
“The window. You left it open.”
“I meant my abode. My private realm.” The place he was promised peace and solitude. The place he could delve into when the affairs of the mortal world became too much. A location hidden away from all but a few, none of which should have included a certain alcoholic bard with a penchant for terrible rhymes. If he started doing that again, Xiao was prepared to don his mask to vanquish him.
“Secret,” said Venti.
“Also, why are you here.”
Venti shrugged and pulled out a flask from his pocket. He took a swig, then raised it up to offer it to Xiao.
“I don’t indulge in such trivial human inebriation,” said Xiao.
“It’s apple juice,” said Venti. He laughed and capped it, sliding it back into a hidden pocket on the side of his shorts. “Diluc refused to give me the good stuff again.”
“Good,” said Xiao. “I’ll ask again. Why are you here?”
“Cats,” said Venti.
“Cats?”
“I’m allergic,” said Venti. “One of the local taverns has cats as an attraction. Usually they’re inside of it, but today the owner decided to clean it out and all them went running all over Mondstadt. It was horrible.”
“So you came here?”
“Well, I considered saying your name so you’d come to my rescue, but-”
“I kill demons,” said Xiao. “Not cats.”
“Ehe,” said Venti. He reached back out for his lyre and started strumming again, soft, his fingers retracing over familiar scales. It seemed more out of habit than of any conscious effort. “Also, I wanted to ask you about Morax.”
“Morax? He’s dead,” said Xiao. Venti raised one eyebrow, his mouth slightly quirked up on one side.
“Right, dead,” said Venti. “Word on the street is, an old senile man is still going around moping about Osmanthus Wine.”
“I would know nothing of this circumstance.”
“But all the same, you share these memories,” said Venti. He lowered his feet to the ground, his cape poofing out behind him. “I just wanted to see if an old friend wanted to grab a drink. Or have a conversation. Listen to an old song or two.”
“Well, he’s dead,” said Xiao.
“Any old friend.”
“If you’re implying that we’re friends-”
“I’ll play the flute for you,” said Venti, his voice dropping into a softer, cordial register. Xiao bit back a retort that was halfway out of his mouth, and pursed his lips into a flat line. He nodded, once, twice.
“Ok,” he said. Venti had the nerve to giggle, and reached into his pocket to pull out a small carved piece of bamboo.
“But you do need to tell me if the rumors are true.”
“What rumors?”
“That Morax is dating the Schnezayan that tried to destroy Liyue.” Xiao bit back a growl, and shook his head. Was this really why Venti had come here? Disturbing his peace for some simple gossip?
“Morax is dead.”
“Dead to you, maybe,” laughed Venti. “And thank you.”
“For what?”
“Confirming the rumors.”
“Get out,” said Xiao, and pointed to the door. Then, he changed his mind and switched to pointing at the window. Which led to a small floating island, which had no real exit. Except if you knew how this space worked, how to slip in and out of a spout through space, everywhere was an exit. Including the inside of the house, but he was hoping Venti would take a cue and at least pretend to respect the bounds of his space.
“Meet me in the marsh at midnight,” said Venti, and a flute appeared in his fingers. He toyed with it, spinning it around some.
“We’ll see,” growled Xiao, and watched Venti disappear with a gust of wind. He shook his head, and leaned against the wall.
How much did Venti know, he wondered, recalling the mirthful yet solemn look in the bard’s eyes. The timing of his offer to play the flute was auspicious, to say in the least. Still, perhaps the idiot just wanted to practice in front of an audience. There was a good chance he didn’t know just how bad things were.
Xiao decided to not think about the case in which Venti did know. If that insufferable bard knew that Xiao knew, there would be no end to teasing, to terrible mind games. Venti was everything Xiao hated in humans. His only redeeming factor was how he managed to make music drift on the wind and bring beauty to moments of the interim with songs of soft longing. It was the
…
“Hey Xiao,” said Venti as he floated in through the window. He landed softly, and the winds dissipated around him, blowing his cape up. Xiao caught the scent of cedar and fir, of orchards and cuihua. Venti strummed on his lyre, then glanced around at the various screens decorated with a scene of the mountains and the sea. He took it in, staring at how they were arranged side by side in monstrous blocks. “I see you redecorated. I would compliment it, but-"
“Quiet,” said Xiao. He shook his head. He had been trying to wrap his head around this for the past week, but to no avail. He had given up.
“Though, I have to wonder-”
“The Traveler did it,” said Xiao. He shook his head, and then closed his eyes. “I didn’t ask for it. I didn’t want it. I don’t want to know why they decided I needed fifty pine screens in one room.”
“Well now I have to know,” said Venti. “Did you ask for them to come in? Change things up?”
“The small floating one suggested it.”
“Paimon?”
“Yes. That one. I happened to complement the traveler’s own abode, and then Paimon decided it was in their best interests to help me with my own.”
“Which involved pine screens? Fifty or so of them?”
“I do not pretend to understand the way the Traveler’s mind works,” said Xiao.
“Also, the Traveler has an abode now?” said Venti, cocking his head. He seemed to be thinking, possibly scheming. Time to change the topic.
“Madame Ping took pity on them. But that’s irrelevant. Why are you here?”
“If I told you the cats were out again, would you believe me?”
“I would.” Anything to make him stop talking faster.
“Well they’re not.”
“Oh?”
“Well, they might be, but that’s not why I’m here.”
“Get on with it.”
“Diluc got mad at me for scamming people,” said Venti. Xiao bit down on his tongue. Venti crossed his arms and did his best to look stern, but his mouth was quirking up at one side, betraying his pout.
“The anemo archon, scamming his own people?”
“I wasn’t,” sighed Venti. “Just running a little poetry clinic for some of my best students.” He reached into his pocket, and pulled out a small piece of parchment. “I guess the problem was that I took payment in IOUs for drinks.”
“That seems normal for you.”
“Oh and also I guess I didn’t actually critique the poems,” said Venti. “They were all excellent!”
“So you lazed around and did nothing. Also normal for you.” Xiao sighed, and stared at the massive block of pine screens. He wondered if he could use them to block off the windows. Venti laughed, and plucked at his lyre some more.
“Also I wrote a poem for you,” said Venti. He held up the piece of parchment. Xiao raised an eyebrow, and Venti gave him a devilish grin. “Ready?”
“No.”
“Violets aren’t blue, Morax isn’t dead. If I believed that I’d be lacking a head.” Xiao stared at Venti, scanning his face to search for a single hint the bard had any talent. Over 2,600 years of roaming the earth and this was all he could bring?
“That was terrible. No wonder Diluc thought you were scamming people.”
“What insults,” sighed Venti. “Please though, where is Morax?” Xiao bit back a hiss and looked away.
“I wouldn’t know.”
“Oh,” said Venti. “Did he not tell you?”
“He didn’t tell any of us,” said Xiao. “Why are you looking for him now?”
“I wanted to sell him a poetry lesson,” said Venti. “I happen to be an expert on Snezhnayan love couplets.”
“You are?”
“For a bottle of wine, of course I am.”
“You are incorrigible,” said Xiao, and pointed to the window. “If you have no actual business with me, then leave.”
“It was nice to talk to you, Venti. I sure do appreciate these visits, Venti,” said Venti, floating off towards the window. He shook his head mirthfully, braids catching in the light. “Why Xiao, I too enjoy our chats.”
Xiao scowled, but as he left, he was tempted to ask when Venti planned to play the mournful notes of the flute once again. But he didn’t, and then Venti was gone.
Later that evening, he would journey to the marsh, hoping to hear the notes ring out, cutting through the night fog. But the quiet song of frogs and the wind in the reeds was all there was. Xiao sat on a rock and breathed deep. It wasn’t like he needed the flute. It was just nice when it was there.
….
“Hey Xiao,” said Venti. Xiao opened his eyes from his meditation and scowled at the impending figure.
“Why do you always come in through the window,” he said.
“Why do you leave them open for me?” said Venti, his eyes twinkling.
“What do you want this time?” said Xiao. Venti shrugged, and dropped to the floor and sprawled out.
“I wanted to see if you kept the fifty pine screens.”
“The traveler came back with more,” said Xiao. He pointed to the corner of the room, where at least seventy screens stood in a block. Half of his main room was filled. If Xiao was one to get claustrophobic, this might have been toeing the line. If he were more sentimental, he might think it made it more cozy. Instead Xiao had no idea what to think other than to just let it happen.
“Perhaps I will write a song about this. The Adeptus with a thousand screens, hiding away behind them.”
“I am not hiding.” And he was definitely not behind any of the awful things. They were shoved into a corner for a reason. Though, now he was regretting not using them to block off the entrances to keep a certain pesky bard out.
“You’re not hiding?”
“Just tell me. Why are you really here?”
“Other than to see your wonderful pine screen addiction? No reason. Can’t a poor, traveling bard check in on an old friend without scrutiny?” Xiao shook his head and fixed his gaze deep on Venti.
“Not when said bard is you. What do you want, Barbados.”
“What do I want, hmm,” said Venti. “Probably wine, or cider if you’re offering.” Xiao stood up and glanced over at the absolute monstrosity of pine folding screens.
“I can only offer you screens,” he said. Venti giggled, then paused.
“Wait, Xiao, was that an actual joke?” He laughed harder.
“No,” said Xiao. “It is the state of my existence here.” Venti beamed, and for once it really seemed to be reaching his eyes.
“Why don’t you leave with me? Come frolic in some orchards, touch some real grass.”
“The grass here is real, and no.”
“Scared of your karma leaking? We can easily deal with the consequences. What are a few possessed hilichurls to mighty Yaksha and his incredibly musically talented friend.” Venti lifted off the ground, brandishing his harp as if it was a weapon. "I'll make those monsters dance themselves clean."
“I said no,” said Xiao. Venti nodded.
“Perhaps you should plant some trees here. Think you could get a whole orchard in? Maybe some grapevines?”
“I am not making my abode into your alcoholic dream,” said Xiao. “Who would look after the vines? Who would pick the fruit?” Venti shrugged. “The only thing you’d help with would be drinking the poison.”
“It’s fun poison,” said Venti. “And some people love the flavor of it too. Knowing you, it might even suit you. Sweet like almond tofu, bitter like almond tofu.”
“Then why not just eat almond tofu?” said Xiao. Venti laughed again.
“You’re fun today,” he said, then frowned. “But if I’m having too much fun- is now the time you tell me to leave?”
“I wasn’t going to, but now that you mention it-”
“A good bard knows how to make a timely exit,” said Venti, giving a dramatic bow. Xiao decided to not point out that Venti was a questionable bard at best, and instead elected to glare at him, waiting. Venti gave him a mock salute and rolled backwards out the window. Except instead of falling to the ground like a normal person might, he instead shot straight upwards, riding the winds off towards the mock sun.
Xiao leaned out the window, staring at the eternal day of his domain. Maybe Venti was right, and he should get out more. Perhaps that was the true aim of the Traveler. Crowd the house with screens. Leave no room for an ancient relic of an Adeptus. Speaking of the Traveler, they were supposed to drop in later.
And what a terrifying thought that was.
…