Chapter Text
A welcome stillness in the night
brings peace to all who hear
the rhythmic whisp’ring of the wind,
the stories it holds dear.
Venti was perched leisurely in a tall oak tree, writing down the ballad verses that came to him and sipping on a drink he made himself from stolen ingredients. The opportunity that arose when the bar at Angel’s Share was briefly left unattended was too good to pass up- he had grabbed a bottle of sparkling cider and some vodka, and combined with the wild mint he had found, they produced a deeply refreshing taste that left a soft tingling on the tip of his tongue. Practically inhaling another mouthful of the concoction, Venti admired the pricks of starlight in the indigo sky as a gentle breeze nudged the leaves away from his line of sight.
The night was perfect. Venti found himself content with his solitude for once. As often as he could, he would spend time at the tavern chatting away with any good conversation partner he could find, chasing away loneliness and any stray thoughts concerning what he was doing with his life. But tonight, the allure of the cool breeze and clear sky was stronger than his fear of being alone.
Being alone… It wasn’t like he had an especially difficult life now, but for thousands of years, Venti had drifted from place to place, making many dear friends but always losing them to the passage of time. A section of his heart was reserved for a grief that never truly died; he had sworn he would always carry his loved ones with him.
On this night, he set grief aside and let love rise within him. Love for his city of freedom, love for his people, love for nature and all its gifts, like grapes for winemaking and apples for crunching. And he found a new love, a gratefulness to the gods above who let him enjoy a moment of unrestrained happiness.
The tranquil scene was disturbed only by the quiet rush of wind- and the silhouette that flickered at the edge of Venti’s vision.
He turned his head, surprised that anyone else would be out at this hour, and examined the figure as it was illuminated by the light of the moon. The shape was several trees away and only vaguely humanlike, but Venti could make out a long black hooded cloak trimmed with silver. The breeze lifted and released the silver-tipped fringe as it framed a pair of tall black boots that seemed like they could easily crush whatever enemies crossed the figure’s path. But would those enemies be good or evil?
The figure carried an air of regality that demanded trust and respect, but the mystery in which it was shrouded invited fear and suspicion. Was this a protector or an attacker? Who was the person underneath the shadows, and what were they doing sneaking around so close to the city?
Venti watched in silence for fear of disturbing whatever the person was up to and potentially putting himself in danger. The figure weaved back and forth between the nearby trees, moving with urgency as the frantic rustling of grass pierced the near-silence and contrasted the calming wind. The person seemed to be looking for something- desperately.
But they were found before they could find whatever precious object was lost. Faster than Venti could process, a second dark-clothed person appeared from the darkness and rushed toward the first, knocking them off balance. The cloak’s silver outline blindingly reflected the moonlight as its wearer tumbled to the ground.
Venti shielded his eyes from an even larger flash of silver as the cloaked figure drew a polished steel sword, as sharp as the sudden realization that nearly startled Venti out of his tree: whatever the intention behind it, he was witnessing an attack. Quickly he debated whether he should do something, whether it was even his place to do something as an onlooker, whether he would be able to live with the guilt if something bad happened, whether he would be able to bear the weight of his actions on top of his grief-
Silver sliced the night once more at the same time Venti heard a strangled cry of pain. The shining sword pulled back, tainted on one side with a large spattering of blood that dripped steadily toward the sword’s black hilt.
Rational thought aside, Venti’s instincts sprang into action. He may be a weaker god, but he wouldn’t back down from a fight. He downed the rest of his drink, shoved his notebook in a pocket, and prepared to launch himself from the tree when he heard the injured person speak.
“You’re not getting away with this.”
“Diluc,” Venti whispered to himself in a barely audible breath. His fear and impulsivity was quickly replaced by anger. He had grown attached to the winery’s master in all the hours he spent at the tavern, and he despised that someone had hurt the man who was so genuine and kind-hearted in Venti’s eyes.
Venti silently jumped from the tree and summoned his bow. With a swift motion of his arm, he readied an arrow and aimed at the silver-lined figure. An anxious feeling underlay his confidence, and he was unable to keep himself from trembling a little bit, but protecting Diluc- no, protecting the people of Mondstadt- was more important than whatever consequences would come from this. He released the arrow.
Almost instantly, it stuck in the shoulder of the attacker, who flinched in pain and surprise but made no sound that Venti could hear. He quickly fired another perfectly aimed arrow that slid into place right next to the first one. The sensation of muscle being pierced so deeply must have been too overwhelming for the attacker to defend themselves; they turned and ran without another moment of hesitation, leaving Diluc to bleed alone.
Venti took a deep breath, his own blood pounding in his ears and echoing through his chest. The danger was gone for now- but how much more danger lay in wait? He lowered his bow, still shaking, and began to approach the other man, having no idea what he was about to get himself into.