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I lay my eyes on you
If one were to ask Barbara when she first saw Venti, then she would tell them that it wasn’t exactly a pleasant memory, but she remembered it clearly all the same.
Of course, seeing someone unconscious on the ground, slightly groaning in pain, wasn’t a nice sight in the slightest.
Despite not knowing who or what he was, if he was even from Mondstadt or one of the good guys instead of a weirdly dressed Fatuus, Barbara still knelt by his side and got to work, her hands hovering right above his chest to heal him.
She didn’t know why and she didn’t question it, either, but her eyes shifted to his sleeping face instead of focusing on the task at hand—doing it unconsciously now, like second nature. She hadn’t seen this boy before in her life, but his presence brought her a strange sense of comfort, like a warm blanket draped over her shoulders on a particularly cold night.
His visage rang in her mind, numbed-out bells chiming somewhere there, telling her that, perhaps, she’d seen him somewhere before. But she shook her head—no, she would remember someone this alluring.
The second the thought popped up in her mind, she shook her head and silently scolded herself for having such ideas about someone she barely– no, that wasn’t quite right; saying she barely knew him when she didn’t know him at all.
He stirred awake only seconds later after she swiftly asked Lord Barbatos to forgive her and she could only hope the heat of her cheeks wasn’t easily visible from the outside, the pools of mixed teal and navy blue that were his eyes probably not helping her case.
Barbara was entranced and she barely registered what he told her.
He was already gone before she realized that her healing hadn’t worked.
Hear your sweet melody
If one were to ask Venti when he first heard Barbara sing, he would say, with a laugh, that it was a fairly normal encounter. He’d simply mention he happened to walk by the statue during one of her performances, and then he would quickly change the topic.
However, that was a lie.
Venti heard her voice well before he met her officially. In fact, it was one of the first things he heard when he awoke from his centuries-long slumber. His ears were flooded with prayers, but what stood out was the birth of a new song.
A song that invoked his name, called out to him in such a way that reminded him of days of yore, when a boy would compose melodies out of the blue with his name, just to find a way to pass the time.
This voice was softer, though, and hypnotizing. Venti had to shake his head and drown everything out to focus on helping Dvalin.
He considered himself somewhat lucky, because he was able to put a face to the voice once they returned the Holy Lyre and besides seeing Barbara so distressed, it was the sorrow and dread in her voice that ultimately made him ‘fix’ the Lyre.
Venti wasn’t particularly fond of hearing her speak that way—her voice was much too sweet to sound like that.
He would’ve done more if he’d been able, and he was sure the deaconess would go after his head once she found out the truth, but the words of relief coming from her lips made it all worth it.
It wasn’t a surprise that he found himself looking forward to her performances…
“Care for a duet, darling deaconess of Mondstadt?” he said, his grin widening at the playful roll of her eyes.
And the accepted requests of working together on a song once they got to know each other.
Though your touch feels taboo
If one were to ask Barbara whether she was dating Venti or not, since they’d been seen holding hands, then the deaconess would blush furiously and immediately deny the statement.
“It was only once! And it happened because he wanted to drag me somewhere…” she’d say.
It wasn’t untruthful, but a small part of her wished her words had been a lie, loathe as she was to admit it.
She still remembered that day perfectly. Venti was, as always, fluttering around the church, making her company as she cleaned the windows. Occasionally he would pipe in to help, seemingly trying to be discreet, but she scolded him every time he tried to use Anemo to dry the water.
“But it’ll be faster that way, and I need to take you somewhere!” he pouted. Weeks ago she would’ve said he was immature, but now? His complaint only made her giggle. It sometimes scared her how easily he could make her smile.
“I can’t cut corners, Venti. I won’t always have you here to help me out, and where do you want to take me, anyway?” she asked, pausing right in front of one of the last windows she needed cleaned for the day.
“It’s a surprise, but! It’s outside the city so we need to get going as soon as possible.”
Barbara, in the end, gave up and allowed Venti to help her out that one time, but a part of her knew he would try again, most likely in a few days. In any case, she did manage to finish faster with his help and the second the last window was done, Venti took the cloth away from her hand, threw it away Barbatos knew where and–
“Great! Come on!”
He grabbed her hand, pulling her into a sprint and making her yelp in the process.
Whatever reprimand she had on the tip of her tongue disappeared when the situation sunk in. Even as she ran, wind hitting her face and making a mess of her hair, she could only focus on the feeling of his hand.
It was cold, but she could easily compare it to what a breeze felt like on a warm day—calming and relieving. His fingers were calloused from the use of a lyre and a bow, but Barbara didn’t mind. If anything, it was a small detail that anchored her, reminding her of the very few times she’d tried to use the lyre out of curiosity and how he’d helped her with it, ever patient and cheerful.
At the time, she didn’t even think about what the whole duration must’ve looked like to the others, given they ran from the Cathedral to the entrance of the city, with the occasional use of gliders.
“Well, that was relaxing!” he commented once on the bridge. He was panting, and so was she.
“We could’ve walked! Why the need to run?” she asked. Surprisingly enough, it wasn’t the sudden hand-holding that she decided to chastise him for, but rather the run he forced her into participating. Their hands were still clasped together.
“You were much too tense, Barbara. You aren’t anymore,” he explained simply, giving her one of those charming smiles that always had her looking away. He wasn’t wrong…
“We’ll walk the rest of the way, don’t worry,” he added with a small laugh. His grip on her hand loosened, but he didn’t let go. An invitation, she realized immediately—he was giving her the opportunity to let go if she wanted.
She didn’t.
So, she squeezed his hand and wordlessly began walking. Luckily for her, Venti didn’t say a word, not even a teasing joke, and followed along.
They made their way to Windrise like that and in spite of the occasional enemy they encountered that forced them to let go, they would always link their hands again in the end.
And your scent is a fantasy
If one were to ask Venti why he had replaced one of the cecilias on his lyre for a sunflower, he would reply that he’d recently found out about its scent and that he quite liked it. He would decorate his answer with rhymes about how it was exotic, and in his heart, also symbolic.
It was a disguised truth, if anything. He did like the scent of sunflowers, but not for the plain reason of them being exotic.
Windrise very quickly became Barbara’s place of comfort, once Venti managed to convince her that she wouldn’t be ‘stealing’ it from Jean. More often than not, their free time together would be spent there, talking or humming along to nature’s song.
One time, in their usual position of Venti leaning against the tree trunk and Barbara using him as a backrest, she leaned her head on his shoulder. Her eyes were focused on the crystalflies that fluttered around them and while Venti was focused on that, too, the foreign scent that reached his senses made him turn to Barbara.
“What fragrance are you using?” he asked. It wasn’t sweet and soft as he would’ve expected from the sweet and soft Barbara, but rather… similar to wood. Like stepping into a garden full of fresh trees, leaves and an earthy atmosphere.
It was a surprise, for sure, but definitely not an unwelcome one.
“Sunflowers,” she replied, dropping her hand and looking for his own hand to intertwine them together.
“Why do you ask?”
Venti didn’t answer immediately. He buried his nose in her hair and inhaled, sighing after a second. Barbara giggled lightly, and he smiled.
“I like it. A lot. Where do you find sunflowers, anyway?”
“Fontaine. It takes a while for the orders to get here, but sunflowers are my favorite, so it’s worth it,” she said with a small shrug and Venti nodded. Finally he turned away from her head to fiddle around with her fingers.
“You wouldn’t mind ordering one for me, would you?” he asked then, and even if he couldn’t see her face properly, he knew she was scrunching her eyebrows in confusion at his request.
“No, but what for?”
“I believe it would look good on my lyre,” he murmured and brought her hand up to place a feather-like kiss on her knuckles.
Your taste I can only pursue
If one were to ask either Barbara or Venti what their favorite flavor was, then whoever asked would get a different answer than if they’d inquired the same thing before the two musicians met each other.
Barbara would most likely blush and simply say she’d taken a liking to apples recently, whilst Venti would chuckle and comment that spice, when served with the right meal, was great to enjoy.
Only people who knew the two would notice the connection. However, nobody but themselves would know the reason.
“I can’t believe you finally convinced me to come up here…” Barbara whispered, holding onto Venti’s arm as if her life depended on it and if she wasn’t careful, it did.
“The sight is breathtaking, isn’t it? And I won’t let you fall, no need to fret. Relax and enjoy the view, my darling,” he was quick to reassure her and slowly moved so that, instead of holding his arm, she was holding his hand.
There was something about Mondstadt at night that was… mysterious, in a beautiful way, and up there, sitting down on the hands of Barbatos’ statue, the whisper of the wind was louder, clearer, carrying stories of the past with it.
“You’re right, it’s really pretty,” she admitted a minute later, finally not tense, her hold on his hand not iron-tight anymore. If it wasn’t for the proximity, Venti wouldn’t have heard her.
“It’s prettier when you have someone you cherish by your side to enjoy it with,” he said, shifting his gaze from the night sky to Barbara and at his words, she met his gaze. They stayed lost in the sight of the other, of their soft smile and their tender eyes.
It was him who moved first, bringing his free hand up to cup her cheek. Barbara leaned into the touch.
There was a squeeze on her hand and she found herself slowly closing the distance. Venti followed her lead, his eyes alternating between looking at her half-lidded eyes and the invitation that were her lips.
They were a mere breath away, noses brushing.
“Are you sure?” he asked in a whisper, afraid to shatter the moment between them, but he knew of her boundaries and he didn’t want her to cross them unless she was certain.
“Yes,” she breathed and it was all the confirmation he needed before their lips were sealed together. It was saccharine and as the wind picked up, so too did their desire for one another. They reveled in the taste of apple and spice, a mixture that had them both giggling breathlessly once they pulled away.
“Kiss me more,” Venti playfully teased, leaning in to fulfill his own request just as Barbara rolled her eyes at his antics.
“I thought you didn’t like spicy food?” she asked, deciding to tease him back, but she didn’t pull away when he was close enough for his breath to graze her skin.
“It’s you, so I don’t mind in the slightest,” he grinned with mirth and swallowed her embarrassed squeak with another kiss.