Chapter Text
Lumine stared over the cliffs, mouth opening with awe as the wind blew, rustling her hair and darting off into the golden dawn. She stood on the edge of a precipice, where the last ridge of Windwail Highland met the flat marshes that occupied most of Bishui Plain, eyes reflecting back the sun and the golden cliffs of Liyue. The distant sea glittered on the horizon, a far-flung curtain of sparkling blue. Mountains rose and fell like pillars, green grass melting into yellow, spreading out like a blanket of fire before them.
Venti sighed into the silence, "Ah, golden Liyue."
Paimon gasped, her hands flying to her mouth, white hair whipping against her flushed cheeks and sparkling excited eyes, "It looks so beautiful from up here!"
Lumine put her hands on her hips, unable to quell the smile at her companion's words, "It is. Let’s hope the Lord of Geo is as nice as this place looks."
Venti laughed, clear like a bell, "That’s one word for it! He’s very particular."
Paimon tilted her head, distracted, her little brow furrowing, "Particular?"
Venti grinned, bright and eager, "Particular. Everything has to be just so. And he’ll always give advice that you never asked for."
Lumine snorted, lips turning downwards, "Oh. He’s one of those people then."
Venti shrugged, "Maybe," he waved at her frown, "But he’s not bad! And sometimes it’s good advice. In fact, sometimes I don’t even mind it. Though you have to promise not to tell him that. I’d never live it down."
Lumine's frown melted into understanding and then something more fond, "Of course, I promise not to tell him that you actually care."
Venti shot her a look and she glanced away, mischievous, quelling her laughter as he sputtered indignantly. Paimon folded her arms, "Well, I don’t get it."
Venti huffed, turning back to her, "Well, let me tell you about the time I brought him to see Mondstadt. Which I knew was a huge mistake going into it, but alas-“ he shrugged, "Bad decision making is just part of my charm."
Lumine snorted, smirking, "Yeah, you tell yourself that."
Venti ignored her, continuing his tale as the three of them started their trek downwards, further into Liyue, "Now, let’s see, it was more than a few years ago- oh yes! Long before your time, when Rex Lapis first walked my lands…"
Lumine listened intently as Venti's words washed over her, Liyue shining brightly in the sun.
The Rite of Descension had gone wrong. The people were screaming, crowds scattering like leaves in the wind and Venti stood before the corpse of his oldest friend, heart in his throat. Overhead the sky had gone overcast, the wind howling as Lumine tugged on his hand, hissing, "Venti! Venti, we need to go!"
She pulled him and he stumbled after her, unmoored, untethered, unable to get the body out of his mind, the coils of scales glittering like mora, the gold of Morax, his corpse -
Paimon's shrill voice was echoing in his ears, "The Millelith! We have to move-!”
Lumine shoved them behind a cluster of thick silk flower bushes, their sweet scent sickening in his nose. And then Lumine grabbed his face, kneeling before him, her golden eyes boring into his, golden like mora and for some reason reflecting back green, "Venti!” She hissed, pale with fear, "Your eyes- you need to keep it together!"
Oh, that would be why. His eyes glowed, twin suns of magnetic blue-green, boiling over. His fingers trembled, the wind roaring in his ears, screaming with the crowd, the clouds above bunching up into the sky, ominous and dark. Lumine glanced behind them, fearful, then placed her hands over his eyes, obscuring him in darkness.
Paimon whispered, too loud, "That’s not helping. They’re still glowing-! ”
"Venti," Lumine's voice was soft, sad, "I know it hurts, I’m sorry, I didn’t- I didn’t know this would happen-“ she was probably remembering the stories he’d told her on the way to Liyue, the tales he’d regaled her with- of old blockhead Morax, his fussiness, his overly particular manner, his oldest and dearest friend, the last of the original Seven besides him.
His cheeks were wet, Lumine was still talking, "We need to get out of here. I didn’t- oh stars-“ and then he was being pulled, the silk flowers gone and replaced by the the scent of clear sky and stardust and Cecilias. Lumine had pulled him close, clinging to him in a tight and desperate embrace, "I'm sorry, Venti."
He choked on a sob, the wind ripping at his clothes, he could hear shouting but he needed to- he needed to-
He sucked in a breath, then another, long and deep. The wind calmed, slowly, gradually, still beating frantically against his ribs but no longer spilling over. Lumine loosened her grip, withdrawing to peer up at him, worried, soft, "Are you alright?"
He managed a weak grin, "No. Are you?"
She smiled, sad, "No," she took his hand, "C'mon, we need to get going. Ironically enough, I think that helped. Everyone's too worried about the storm to pay us any mind."
Venti choked on a laugh, voice cracking, "Happy to help."
Paimon glanced at him, clearly worried and he scrubbed at his eyes, willing the god-light to dim, tamping down on it hurriedly. He had almost no power to his name, but unleashing what little vestiges he possessed would not be wise, not here, not now.
His fingers tightened around Lumine's hands as he swallowed back tears and moved on from the corpse of another friend.
Lumine hadn’t wanted to work with the harbinger Childe, but Venti didn’t mind. They would do what must be to done to ascertain why Morax had been killed and by who. And then he would make sure that they regretted what they’d done. Not that he’d said as much yet but surely the others had sensed the sharpness of his humor lately, after their trips across the mountains of Liyue to speak with the adepti.
Childe grinned and presented grandly, "Allow me to introduce Mr. Zhongli, consultant to an organization known as Wangsheng... and a trusted associate of the Fatui."
He could see Lumine eyeing the tall stranger with suspicion, eyes narrowed, Paimon speaking loudly, gasping. Venti ignored her words and studied the stranger instead, something tugging inside his chest, calling out. The man, Zhongli, blinked at their appearance and then hummed in response to Paimon's question, serene, composed, and cordial, something strange simmering underneath his skin, "Indeed it is as you have guessed. The Wangsheng Funeral Parlor organizes burials. We ensure that those who pass on do so in peace."
The wind stirred within, Zhongli lifting his head, golden eyes meeting green- golden and shimmering like mora- passing over him, like water.
And Venti knew.
His words clogged in his throat, something vicious and bitter rising within, roiling like a tempest. He swallowed back the wind and remained a silent observer only.
Zhongli either ignored him or remained oblivious.
"Osmanthus wine tastes the same as I remember. But where are those who share the memory?"
Venti huffed, folding his arms as he followed Lumine and Zhongli, quiet behind them. He couldn’t bring himself to speak. They had gone on many errands as Zhongli, or Morax, personally arranged his own funeral to his exact tastes and made not so subtle quips about Mondstadt's absentee archon.
Venti would bash him over the head with his lyre, but it probably wouldn’t even hurt that thick skull of his. As they took a break from shopping for lunch, Lumine paying, Venti pulled a bottle of dandelion wine out of his sack, making a showing of uncorking it. Lumine blinked and then smiled, "I didn’t know you had that."
Venti laughed, almost too airy and light, "A gift from home. I figured it couldn’t hurt to bring something to remember it by."
Zhongli perked up, curious, feigning ignorance, "What is it?"
The dumb dragon surely knew what it was. It was the only delicacy he’d ever admitted was superior to Liyue's stock. Venti had brought it to share with him, but alas, Morax was apparently dead so he would have to drink it alone. Venti shrugged, artfully nonchalant, "A drink from home. Surely you wouldn’t like it."
Zhongli's eyes narrowed at his pointed retort, "Perhaps you’re right."
Paimon glanced between them, a little offended, "Well, hey now! How would you know Mr. Zhongli? You haven’t even tried it yet!"
Venti huffed, belligerent, "He looks like he’d find it distasteful."
Lumine glanced between them, wary. Venti's fractured laughter had descended into sullen silence after Wangsheng funeral parlor, but she hadn’t expected the silence to be broken by quarreling with their new, if long winded, but generally pleasant companion.
Zhongli folded his long fingers together, prim, resolving to ignore his comment. Venti sipped from the bottle declining to use the glass placed next to his plate, "I bet Mr. Zhongli prefers," he mused, painfully polite to mask the hostility that dripped from his words, "That tea or whatever, what was it called?"
Zhongli arched an eyebrow, "Osmanthus wine?"
"That," Venti shrugged, blunt, "What, those who share a memory? You're looking for dead friends?"
Zhongli's eyes narrowed finally, some semblance of emotion there, even if it was fury. Paimon gasped, "Venti!"
"Sure a shame,” Venti continued, venomous, glaring at him, "That you lost all your friends. Can’t imagine why.”
The man carefully placed his chopsticks beside his bowl, something almost ominous about the movement, "At least," Zhongli's lips thinned, voice hard and firm, unyielding as rock and meant to wound, "I’m not a lazy forsaken drunkard."
Lumine stared into her plate, lips pressed thin, eyes wide with alarm. Paimon's mouth had fallen open. Venti stood and pointed, cradling the dandelion wine, "I hope you choke on your tea, you blockhead."
He stormed away. As soon as he was out of sight around the corner, he let the wind carry him to the peak of Mount Tianheng, legs dangling over the cliff's edge. He took another swig and glared at the setting sun, illuminating Liyue Harbor in colors of flaming orange and gold. Shining like mora.
Venti hugged his knees and took another drink.
The sun had set, the moon sparkling on the ocean waves and it’s reflection dancing in the sea, when he heard footsteps. Venti heaved a sigh and raised his bottle, "Saved you some."
The grass rustled and Zhongli sat down next to him, taking the bottle carefully between thumb and forefinger. Venti glared at the ocean, the smell of salt and food cloyingly thick in the air, rising from the city below. Zhongli stared at the bottle and then sighed, taking a drink.
Venti muttered into his knees, resentful, "Does it taste the same as you remember?"
"Hm," Zhongli hummed, thoughtful, "A little more bitter than I’m used to but yes." Venti snorted as Zhongli continued with a hum, "Just the right hints of the dandelion, sweet and heady with notes of the wind, obviously because of it's unique-“
“Alright," Venti halfheartedly pushed him in the shoulder, rolling his eyes, "Alright you win, you walking encyclopedia-“
Zhongli smiled, soft, fond, "You know a word that big? You never cease to impress me."
Venti gasped, shocked, falling into old habits easily, "Excuse me? Excuse me! You- you! I came all this way and that’s what you say to me?"
Zhongli hummed, bowing his head in agreement, "You’re right. Perhaps a better greeting is required, something that does not push the boundaries of propriety, something along the lines of... What was it you last met me with? Ah, let’s see, the ballad of the blockhead-“
Venti grinned, happy for a moment- quickly fading as he looked out over the sea, quiet, remembering the last time he’d met the old dragon so long ago now, "I’d forgotten about that."
Zhongli's smile fell with his, dipping into something more serious, "Barbatos-“
"Venti," his smile had dropped completely, into something more melancholy, "I go by Venti with mortals, Zhongli."
Zhongli straightened, almost offended, tone a touch too sharp, "Is that how it is?"
Venti shot him a mulish glare, ready to take offense, "I don’t know. I didn’t expect to attend the funeral of a- a- friend either. I certainly wouldn’t wish to overstep any boundaries."
"Ah, so that is what this is about."
Venti let his knees drop, turning to face Zhongli, the wind rising with his turmoil, "What else would it be about, Morax?" He snapped, the storm boiling within, tearing him apart from the inside, "Do you know what that was like? Your corpse falling from the sky?” His breath hitched, something cracking, the world blurring, “Tell me, what else would it be about?"
Zhongli did not back down from the growing gale, stubborn, "I didn’t know you were going to be there."
Venti threw up his hands, "And? What about when the news traveled to Mondstadt?" He gestured to the sea, voice breaking, "The death of a god makes waves, Morax! Would you have ever told me?"
Zhongli's face hardened, refusing to answer his question, "It isn’t your business, Venti, what I do or do not do. You are a long way from home.”
"I guess I am," Venti looked away, to his left, back towards Dragonspine in the northeast, looming over Liyue. He turned back, eyes narrowed, and he knew his eyes glowed, could feel the god-light pulsing in his bones, "My apologies, Mr. Zhongli, for taking up your time."
He stood, wiping furiously at his traitorous eyes, shoulders hunching as he pulled his cape tighter around him in the cool evening air, letting the wind take him where it willed. Perhaps he would find himself at the sheer peaks of Huaguang stone forest or to the windswept meadows of Starsnatch cliff.
Anywhere but here.