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i.
laughter rings through the air and the wind whistles back. the night is young and barbatos cannot find what is wrong with the world at that moment.
a steady presence draws the young god from his intoxicated stupor and turquoise eyes fall from the sky to meet burning gold ones.
“morax!” the anemo archon laughs, waving an arm wildly in an attempt to greet the geo archon.
a slow smile appears upon morax’s face and barbatos wonders if he’s ever seen that expression on the god’s face before.
“osmanthus wine?” morax offers out kindly, the sound of his voice providing barbatos a refuge in his drunken state: something to cling to.
laughter comes again, from barbatos or the other archons, the anemo archon cannot be sure.
hands fit for playing instruments lift a bottle of wine up for display.
“got dandelion wine right here!” barbatos grins and morax nods once, without a word, raising his glass in response.
a silent toast is made and each god drinks, barbatos gulping down the dandelion and morax taking a single sip of osmanthus.
ii.
it’s quieter this time around, there’s no laughter, no black out drunk archons.
the wind still whistles, though it’s more akin to a howling and barbatos feels so, so tired.
turquoise eyes watch the kagemusha as she breathes, once and then once again, unsteady becoming steady. it’s the first gathering without baal and barbatos wasn’t entirely sure if beelzebul would even show up.
the young god turns his gaze away, giving her peace and staring into seemingly endless wine before him.
he doesn’t feel like drinking dandelion wine tonight.
dark hands laced with gold come to rest over his own and a quiet whisper of concern is taken with the wind; perhaps he is more affected by the loss than he realised.
a wooden cup appears in his blurred view and barbatos does not drink, he can only stare as his vision blurs further and silent tears dry against his porcelain skin.
iii.
he is not so young anymore, he knows, as he wanders the streets of mondstadt as venti the bard, as the archon who slept for hundreds of years.
“venessa has turned this place to good,” he hums with a smile, seated up a branch on a young tree, a statue of himself not too far away.
“it‘s been a long time, hasn’t it?” a familiar voice calls and venti inhales sharply, casting his gaze down to meet eyes the colour of the sun high above them.
“aren’t you supposed to be in celestia, morax?” and venti sings his name, his tone teasing.
“i could not miss a chance to see an old friend before i return,” the geo archon reasons and venti supposes that it’s quite alright, for he missed the god before him far too much.
venti lets the wind carry him softly to the ground, footsteps light as he approaches morax.
“osmanthus wine?” morax produces a bottle from seemingly nowhere and venti laughs, bright and loud.
he has not laughed like this in such a long time.
“not today morax,” and venti offers his hand to the god, “walk with me instead?”
morax smiles, soft and steady.
“how could i refuse?”
iv.
the wind carries venti all the way to liyue and when he arrives there, he feels lost without morax by his side.
steady rock and towering cliffs are unfamiliar to him in the way that it has been far, far too long and he no longer understands the nation as anything more than shallow words in his songs.
the wind is biting at this time of year but venti finds comfort in it as he walks the streets of liyue, busy men and women rushing around him, never sparing a second glance.
a hand grasps his own and for a moment, the anemo archon feels panic bubble up from his gut to his throat until a steady presence washes over him and the feel of the hand in his own is so familiar that venti would curse himself if he ever mistook it.
turquoise eyes light up when their gazes meet and morax smiles.
he lets morax tug him through the streets, out of the city and into the mountains, trusting the old god right down to his spirit.
and when they arrive at a towering tree infused with elemental power, venti recognises nantianmen.
he watches morax as the geo archon moves to stand at the tree’s roots, he watches the way morax breathes.
and when the wind carries mondstadt’s prayers to him, he hears morax’s voice too, knows that morax prays to him the way venti kneels beneath windrise and breathes, hoping the god standing before him will hear.
gold eyes make his skin flush, threatening to burn straight through to his soul and as venti refuses the osmanthus wine offered out to him, the god finds that he does not mind being vulnerable in the space he shares with morax.
v.
venti finds him at the stone gate, drinking from a cup.
he nearly collapses into the seat opposite the geo archon with a lopsided grin.
“hi,” it’s all venti can get out, tired from fighting slimes on his way here and exhilarated at seeing morax again.
a low chuckle slips from the old god’s lips and venti would get on his knees and pray a thousand times over just to hear it again.
although, when is he not praying for morax in some way?
“good evening venti,” morax watches with those burning eyes of his, smiling as he sips his drink.
“if i fall asleep, will you take me all the way back to mondstadt?” the anemo archon teases, eyes sparkling in the moonlight.
“perhaps, but it is best you don’t fall asleep,” the man hums, not rising to the bait.
venti sighs and then pouts, swaying in his seat.
“i could play a song for you, if you like,” he offers, somehow lost for words. venti has never been able to truly figure out how he feels about the geo archon, even after these centuries have gone by.
all he knows is that the feeling is comforting and it’s good.
morax shakes his head once, simple as ever.
“would you like some osmanthus wine?” he offers as a response and it brings a grin to venti’s face.
“no thank you, i have to walk all the way back to mondstadt!” venti laughs and he’s so caught up in the feeling that he misses the way morax’s eyes light up as the geo archon tilts forward, wrapped up in venti’s energy.
vi.
the wind doesn’t carry him to liyue this time, it follows him, parades behind him like there should be something to be celebrated.
there is not.
the bottle feels heavy in his grasp as the dark settles overhead, the harbour city lighting up and stars begin to fill the sky.
the people of liyue are not rushing about, they are not gallivanting in the streets like they would during the lantern rite or the moonchase festival. they are somber, hidden by windows of homes or speaking softly in the harsh lights of the streets.
there isn’t a soul at yujing terrace save for the millelith.
venti walks to the balcony overlooking the entirety of the harbour and quietly, he places two wooden cups upon it before pouring the bottle he had carried with him.
the wine fills the cups and he wishes for his tears to fall but the wind is unforgiving to him and dries them up, leaving the skin of his cheeks damp.
“osmanthus wine,” venti gasps, choking back a sob.
for the people who know who he is, they would wonder how a god of the wind could be left without air, forgetting that he is human in the way we all are.
the anemo archon lifts his cup to the lights of liyue, to the stars above and he prays to morax, he prays to the god who has died and left him here alone.
he prays because he has loved and he has lost.
venti does not gulp the wine down, his hands shake and he takes a single sip.
the wind has mercy on him then and tears fall, thick and fast, rolling down his cheeks until venti leans forward, watching as the stone beneath his feet becomes dark with grief.
he is not sure how long he stands there with his head bowed, gasping and crying.
fabric rustles and brushes away the damp on his cheeks and, for a moment, venti does not breathe at all when he lifts his head, meeting gold eyes.
“i’m zhongli,” and venti sobs loudly, shaking as zhongli gathers the anemo archon up into his arms and holds him.
venti sobs as he kisses zhongli, pressing his entire body against the taller man, afraid that if he let go, the old god would disappear.
zhongli brushes more tears away as venti falls back down onto the balls of his feet from his tiptoes.
“i can explain,” zhongli begins and venti shakes his head, almost violently.
“later,” venti takes a steady breath and realises just how much he loves the man before him.
venti stands before a god, golden eyes making him vulnerable and he reaches out.
“would you like some osmanthus wine?”
zhongli takes the cup and they drink together, making a silent promise to each other.
venti does not understand liyue but he will learn to.
he will learn to the way he learned to love a god.