Chapter Text
On the back of his door there is a set of tallies.
If one were to count up to them starting from the top, they’d eventually reach 347.
347 entire days that he’s spent in this cabin.
He’s not even supposed to be here, and he’s not even allowed in the cabin. It was just something he stumbled across on his first day.
It was the only thing that made sense to him through his flurry of tears.
He’s not entirely sure where he’s at; he’s definitely not in Mondstadt, that’s for sure. Maybe Liyue, since there’s a nice patch of Jueyun Chili plants just growing on a cliff. Who cares if it’s in the middle of nowhere; he’s here, at least.
Throughout those 347 agonizing days alone with his thoughts, he’s accumulated a multitude of things within his abode. Some things are little things, like trinkets and knick knacks he’s come across during some of his bolder adventures. Others, completely particular to him; his favorite?
A crude lyre strung with trimmed leaves, a slim reminder of his home. It never sounded as pure as the lyres he was used to playing, but hey, sometimes you need to compromise.
The 348th day opens like every other:
He wakes up, struts to his kitchen, and makes himself some tea. He’d prefer wine, of course, but he doesn’t know how to make any without drawing attention to himself. He doesn’t want his little hideaway discovered by anyone.
After he makes his tea and drinks it, letting the caffeine re-energize his system, he goes outside to sun—if it isn’t raining. The weather wherever he is, Liyue probably, is always predicted on a hit-or-miss basis.
Today, it’s sunny, so he sheds his top and stands in the sun. It isn’t as bright as where he’s from, but it warms his limbs and brings blood rushing into his aching wings.
He pretends not to notice how they’ve started to take on a darker hue. He knows it’s because the Teyvatian sun is nowhere near as bright as the Celestial realm, so his carefully bleached feathers have only dulled with time.
It’s all because of the sun. Which is why he has to sit outside, wings stretched like an idiot, hoping to bleach away some of the darkness that taints him.
If it were Mondstadt, it would be different. At least he’s familiar with Mondstadt, and sort of rules over it like an ambassador; if he ever got back to Celestia (which was an admittedly big if), he’d be ridiculed for his darkened wings. Dulled wings make for a horribly unsightly principality, he must admit.
Well… if he wasn’t ridiculed for getting kicked out in the first place.
But that doesn’t matter, because it’s the 348th day today! He has things to do, places to be. He gives his wings a test and tries to pull himself into the air—no use. If it were Mondstadt, then the winds would gladly lift him off the ground themselves. Here, the energy is too big, too rough, that he can’t even manage a small sprint into the sky.
(It definitely has nothing to do with his status, he keeps telling himself. That’s what got him here. It shouldn’t affect his abilities.)
So, after sunning and failing his flying attempts again, he goes back into his shoddy little cabin and does the next thing on his list:
Sit in front of the mirror and remember who he is.
The third day he was here he almost lost himself. Literally, he could feel himself forgetting everything he knew—a byproduct of his distance from Celestia no doubt. That’s how he knows this can’t be Mondstadt, because if he were in the nation of wind, he’d retain everything without fail. How cruel for the gods to dump him in a place where he can do all but thrive, he constantly thinks.
His bathroom has a small mirror, with one edge permanently ruined from years of sitting in the rain. He cleaned it up the best he could, and now it functions well as his makeshift therapist.
He sits and observes himself.
His dark hair looks the same as it always does, windswept and elegantly framing his face. Two beautiful, green eyes that Amos always joked were emeralds—how long has it been since he’s seen Amos, anyways? What about the knight? Decarabian, as much of an ass as he always was? Andrius?
His oldest friend, the song that followed the wind?
348 days, that’s how long. He reminds himself of that number. He can’t forget. He can’t afford to forget, so he locks his eyes on his small, cracked lips, and begins to speak.
“I am Barbatos.”
“I am the third principality in the lowest hierarchy and hold dominion over the wind. I am the second Anemo Archon of Mondstadt.”
“I rule over all song and wind and am a herald of creation for the mortal realm.”
“I have spent 348 days lost in Teyvat as Venti, my mortal avatar. I don’t know where I am, but probably Liyue. I don’t know what I did to get here, and I have not seen any mortal or divine life since my arrival.”
“This is not my house. My wings darken with each day. I haven’t lost the ability to fly—yet—but Celestia remains not withon my reach.”
His voice trails off and he meets his gaze in the mirror. His reflection is still and calm, like a sea unaffected by the wind.
And then, it cracks.
He can’t help it. He’s been stuck here for 348 days and he has loved every moment of it! Sure, he’d love to be back in Celestia, but Teyvat is such an interesting place to get lost in!
He’s been to Mondstadt multiple times, but getting lost in Liyue was like a dream come true! The wind calls and speaks to him even here, and while he doesn’t have complete dominion over the land, he doesn’t let that stop him from doing all he can to enjoy it.
So, leaving the bathroom with a giddy smile on his face, happily reminded of his entire persona and being and purpose, he gets ready for his last (and longest) activity for the day.
He’s going to go exploring!
It’s so much more fun without his wings, so in a flash he’s hidden them away. Thank Celestia for his “Mortality and You: How to Blend in Among the Non-Divine 101” course that taught him all the basics!
- No wings! Especially not dull wings. Just because he needs to preen doesn’t mean he should do it in front of others.
- No robes! Clothes are everything in Teyvat. Show up looking like the divine, and they’ll eventually start to worship you; he can’t say anything about Mondstadt, but Celestia forbids a cult pop up in Liyue!
- Speak Teyvatian! Celestian is specifically for those in Celestia. Mortals will go mad with the concept of Celestial infinity!
- Always, always, always look out for demons. It doesn’t matter how nice they are or how cool they seem, demons spell one thing: SIN. Stay away and you’ll be Celestia-bound in no time!
If he just follows these Celestia Approved(R) rules, he’ll have a grand time in Teyvat and be back in Celestia in no time!
He came up with his outfit all on his own; music sits so sweetly in his heart that he couldn’t forgo the facade of a bard. Besides, what better way to mask and convey his identity at the same time than with the completely inocuous life of a bard? He can go everywhere and do everything and no one will bat an eye! It’s perfect.
(What isn’t perfect is that there is absolutely no one around for him to be a bard to. Which sucks.)
But it’s not perfect for exploring, so he puts on simple hunting garb to stay safe. Leather shoes, tough cotton pants and shirt, leather vest. A cape just in case he has to hide his identity. Finally, his bow and leather hand guards.
He’d never actually fire it at anything, but on the off chance that he’ll meet someone out here on the 348th day, then he won’t take the risk.
Finally, he’s all set, brushing his teeth and finishing the remainder of his (now cold) tea.
There’s one last step in his plans. It’s not a step he includes, but every day, before he goes out, he somehow manages to perform it perfectly.
He glances at his ID card out of the corner of his eye. It hasn’t moved in 348 days.
It used to be a light baby blue, but has since been collecting dust. On it bore his name, his identification number, and his angelic status in Celestia.
(He remembers when he was crowned Archon over Andrius. Decarabian had been steaming mad, of course, but there was nothing he could do. A gnosis set him apart from all other principalities and gave him dominion over the land of wind. It had been joyous, if not a little confining.)
All angels had one, no matter if they were part of the lowest choir or sang directly with the Sustainer of Heavenly Principles herself.
Celestia loves their (admittedly stolen) technology. His name card had been completely electronic, with its tiny screen and all, perfect for a speedy commute across Celestia.
His ID card’s screen now bore the word FALLEN in big bold letters, a nasty red that set the card ablaze. He’d cried and cried when he first saw it, unsure of how a principality like himself could become a fallen angel.
By the fourth day he chalked it up to a mistake, and now the big red FALLEN was a sign of comfort. Get back to Celestia, fix the mistake, and look back on his year in Teyvat with nostalgic fondness.
He can’t wait to see his friends again, especially the song. So, bidding those big red letters goodbye, he opens the door and begins his day.
“Apples!”
He can’t help his giddy exclamation, dropping his bow and traveling supplies.
The tree bearing such succulent fruit stands tall and proud in front of him. It’s such a healthy green and its apples such a bright red that his mouth waters at the mere thought of popping one in his mouth.
They don’t have apples in Celestia. The food there is divine because Celestia is divinity itself, but all things he finds holy, nothing hits the spot like an apple. Slightly sweet, super crunchy, sour enough to make his face scrunch in delight. Venti loves apples.
It’s midday; he’s been hiking for a good two hours or so, and even though his heavenly body doesn’t require sustenance, he was craving for something. Something small, round, red, slightly sweet and super crunchy…
… And he found this apple tree!
Grasping one of the fruit in an outstretched palm, he dares to flutter his wings. They feel stiff against such earthy air, but still buffett his fall back down.
He would fly high and fall back down again and again and again in Celestia. It sucks that he can’t do it anymore, but Venti doesn’t care. He’s got an apple with his name all over it, so he digs in.
Wiping the succulent morsels on his lips away with his tongue, he finishes his snack and mounts his bags on his back. He’s far from done wandering.
He won’t stop until he’s sure he isn’t the only one here.
He isn’t good at cartography, but an artist never forgets their muse.
The landscape spreads before him like an elegant painting, created by Celestial hands and carved away by time. He cheated a little and flew up to where he stands, but no one’s around, so it’s okay.
The sun hangs low in the sky. If he wants to make it back before dark, he should go now; but he’s mesmerized by the scene before him.
Celestia is beautiful, but Teyvat is something else altogether. Venti still thinks Mondstadt is the most beautiful nation, but the way Liyue’s rock formations twist and turn against each other in the dying sunlight is a performance he was entirely unaware of.
He is definitely in Liyue, which means if he continued his search he could probably find Morax. Or, at least, someone who could reach Morax. He hasn’t seen the Geo Archon in a long time, and isn’t sure if he’s residing in his Celestial abode or walking the earth in his mortal form.
Most likely the former, Venti huffs; Morax was akin to a large, lazy lizard half the time, and imagining him as anything but grumpy and tired would’ve been a joke to the fallen angel.
Ah, but he and Morax didn’t exactly leave on the best terms the last time they walked the mortal plane. He didn’t even know if Morax was here, after all…
No matter. He found what he was looking for—a beautiful scene to act as his muse.
He flew up to the top of a Liyuean peak just to get this view, and he’d sit on top of one to write his song. Ideally, letting the wind caress his hair the way his oldest friend would was ideal.
Staring at the winding stone, a song of loneliness comes to him in the dying daylight. He pours his heart out for the first time in 348 days, coming up with a sonorous lament to his divine woes.
When the sun sets, he stops singing. He’s overspent his stay. He pulls out his map, marks the location, and sets his bag on his back.
He flies back home. No point in being careful under the cloak of darkness when no one is around for miles. The sight of his little cabin makes him feel slightly more safe, and as he begins to get ready for bed, one more tally is added to the back of his door.
It’s the 351st day when he finds it.
It’s the afternoon and he didn’t feel much like exploring new locations as he did surveying the old. Plus, reclining in a tree was a perfect way to spend a lazy afternoon.
Sleep, muse, and hope Celestia lets him back in soon. The plan is so simple it’s stupid!
He goes through his steps, remembers exactly who he is and what he’s doing like always, and leaves. He finds the perfect tree not even a ten minute walk away, but what draws his attention isn’t the shape of its branches.
No, there is something in the tree. Something that he has definitely never seen before.
Sitting in a small crevice in the tree’s thick bark is something small and shiny. He wouldn’t have noticed it if not for a strange blinking light, and he wouldn’t have cared about the light unless it wasn’t red. Just like apples.
“What are you?” Venti asks to the small thing, dropping his bags and getting close to the tree. It’s a little high up, so he has to strain to get a good look at it.
It’s small but… weird. It’s kind of boxy, and definitely has a red blinking light, but then there’s a shiny, rounded piece sticking out of it. It stares at him like an abyssal eye, and the sight of such darkness would be sickening if not for his reflection shimmering in its depths.
It does nothing but blink as he stares at it, so he decides it’s harmless.
“Well, just sit there my little friend,” he says to the cube, giving one last smile before hopping from the tree.
And that would have been the end of it had the damn thing not flashed.
Celestia, it’s almost as bright as the sun! He shrieks and shields himself with his wings; what a fright.
… Oh.
He stares back at dull feathers. Apparently, he’d lost control of his form just as that thing flashed.
… Did he just make a mistake?
His heart plummets. Whatever he did couldn’t have been good.
Gathering his bags, he hightails it back to his cabin. The black depths of the black box’s eye shines back at him in his mind.
He absently marks another tally on his door before vowing to not go outside for a couple of days.
He can’t keep any promises because he’s back at the tree.
The black box with the blinking red light and shiny black eye is gone.
He’s slightly unnerved, but at least the tree is free.
He settles down for his nap, absently letting his wings out to relax.
“Wake up.”
What a funny voice. There’s something in his face so he swats it away; annoyingly, it returns.
“Hey, what gives?” He gripes, reaching out in front of him. “You wouldn’t evict a fellow from where he lives, would you?”
“This is a tree. Wake up.”
Oh, right. Venti fell asleep in a tree. He shakes his head in annoyance and stretches; ah, the extra blood flow to his wings feels so good after a long nap. He opens his eyes, emerald green in the dark of night, and looks to his right.
There’s something standing at the base of the tree. It’s small and kind of reminds him of a cat.
He’s allergic to cats, so the first thing he does is scream.
“Get away from me!” He hollers, swatting that long thing it’s holding away from him. It’s pointy and sharp and glitters just like his eyes, but that’s the least of his concerns. “Leave, you dumb cat!”
“Cat—What?” Comes the startled reply.
Venti freezes.
He’s… been talking to this creature.
He’s having a conversation with someone besides himself for the first time in… in 348 days.
His eyes scramble towards whatever is speaking to him, and his heart sinks when he sees a person.
A regular person. No wings, no halo, no horns or claws like the storybooks said.
Just a regular person, staring up at him with the most brilliant yellow eyes he’s ever seen. They look like the sunset captured in a marble and placed right into a living being.
… Either way, those eyes are staring more at his wings and less at his face.
“Um. I can explain,” he tries, immediately cloaking his true form with whatever sad strength he has left. The person below only stares at him, eyes unblinking up at the angel.
This isn’t going to work.
Venti sighs and relents, pressing his palms to his eyes as the person begins speaking.
“I’ve found the disturbance,” Venti barely pays any attention to his words, “It’s nothing harmful. Yet. Someone… fell.”
When he’s done having a complete crisis, the person offers a hand to him.
“Do you mind coming with me?” He asks, voice completely flat. It doesn’t… irk Venti, really, it’s just… oddly unexpected. “I don’t think you want to stay in this forest any longer. There are some things angels like yourself can’t combat alone.”
“Yeah, I… wait,” Venti was almost completely ready to accept this stranger’s outstretched hand, but he has questions. “No, no, we’re waiting. I’m left in this place for 351 days and now someone tries to find me? And you don’t even seem that surprised! Look at me.”
He falls down from the tree, flashing his wings again. He cringes; the sight would be more convincing were they not a dull shade of light gray.
Regardless, he pushes the person back with his presence, relishing in the startled look those golden eyes give.
“I am an angel. A divine being, straight from Celestia, and all you have to say to me is ‘You look uncomfortable all alone?’”
The person before him bristles. His eyes take on an uncanny glow in the light of the moon, and something in Venti’s stomach drops. He feels like… nothing should have that look in their eyes.
Nothing that is holy, at least.
“You aren’t the first angel to have fallen in Liyue,” the person states to him, and ah, right, he did fall almost a year ago, “And when angels fall, they can’t exactly stay here. There’s things in Teyvat that will rip you to shreds. It’s… not a pretty sight.”
Hm. Venti’s a little perplexed.
This person with the unholy golden eyes has met angels before—fallen angels, like himself. Probably not a principality, much less an Archon, but Venti will keep that to himself for now.
But… the mention of things. Dangerous things. Things that could shred an angel to bits, demonic entities that despise the power of Celestia… and this person has seen them.
Could this person be…?
“Are you an exorcist?”
He’s aware he’s giddy with excitement as the person before him reluctantly nods.
“I’m surprised you know so much about Teyvatian culture,” the person says, golden eyes burning his face. “I work for the Geo Archon, Morax. I was sent here after news of a disturbance that was sending local livestock awry and corrupting crop growth patterns. I originally assumed it was one of the damned, but one of the fallen is much easier to deal with.”
He’s a little more than just a fallen angel, but Venti lets it slide.
“Did you really come out here all by yourself?” Venti asks, genuine. “Even though you could be ripped to shreds?”
Golden eyes flicker with something and the person is smiling at him.
“Come with me and I might answer your questions,” the person offers, amused. “Does that sound like a fair trade?”
Venti is about to agree before a nagging thought stops him.
“How do I know you aren’t a demon trying to kill me?”
Oh, this person definitely looks ready to strangle him now. There’s a ruffle of clothing and soon the supposed exorcist is revealing a small pin towards him. It’s small and square and glows a soft turquoise.
“This is an exorcist’s insignia,” the person explains, “The shape means I work for the Geo Archon. The color means I’ve trained in techniques from Mondstadt. Every exorcist will have one of these; if they don’t, they’re lying. Does this make sense to you?”
Venti has never heard of one of these before. He’s known about exorcists, but when has the technology become so advanced…?
“So… you’re the real deal.”
“I am.”
“… Will you take me to Morax?”
If Morax is here, then maybe he can actually get a shot at getting back home. Then he’ll stop being his usual lazy self, go to Mondstadt once a year like a good little principality, and maybe figure out what all this new tech is called.
“I’m to stay here for the next couple weeks,” the exorcist explains, “So I’m not entirely sure how feasible that will be. Whether Morax resides in Liyue or in his Celestial abode… that isn’t something that can be predicted.”
That makes sense. He’ll just… hang out with this exorcist then.
“Oh! Can you take me to any nearby civilization? It has been 348 days since I have seen anything, I want to explore Liyue a little more before I leave.”
“Like I said, just come with me,” the exorcist urges again. Venti cloaks his wings and looks down at the beaten path, ready to go when the person speaks again. “You… have everything, correct? Including your ID?”
“Oh! No, I left that back at my little… cabin, I guess you could call it. I wasn’t planning on finally being saved today, y’know?”
The exorcist doesn’t laugh, which is a shame. Venti thought his quip was at least a little funny.
“I’ll wait here. Go get your things, we have a long walk ahead.”
“Mhm! I’ll meet you back here…?”
“… What?”
“I just realized I never got your name,” Venti says with a smile. “I’m Ba—Venti. My name is Venti.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Venti. My name is Xiao.” A shuffle of clothing and Xiao is leaning against a different tree. “Now go and get your stuff, there could be things along the way I do not want to encounter.”
He stares at his tallies with a strange reverence.
352.
352 entire days, because he can see the soft light of the rising Teyvatian sun through the broken roof of his cabin. He’s been here that long and he’s finally being saved.
That exorcist—Xiao—couldn’t have come at a better time. He intrigued Venti, from his curt mannerisms to his glowing golden eyes. There was… something about him, something that told Venti to be wary, yet…
… He trusts Xiao.
Which is a strange thing to say, with all things considered. Maybe it was because Xiao studied techniques from his land. There was some sort of solidarity there, and it made Venti warm with excitement.
Finally, he’s going home! He’ll preen his wings, change into his robes, take a nap for a couple dozen years, and then visit Mondstadt!
There is literally no better plan!
He’s bid goodbye to his little house. His ID card flashed angrily at him when he dusted it off, but the fresh red FALLEN hasn’t changed since he arrived. Ah, well, he’ll get it taken care of. Celestial paradise, here he comes!
He smiles and pats the tallies, feeling the worn wood under his fingers. It’s rough and coarse, but comforting. Knowing that this place has offered him so much protection… he couldn’t be more thankful.
“Thank you,” he whispers into the wind, and leaves.
This place will become a song some day, he decides. A song about protection and freedom, and maybe a few apples in between.