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Mona stared at what she’d managed to write; a few vague, unrelated ideas, scribbles and crosses plaguing the rest of the page.
None of the words seemed to flow onto the paper like usual. Everything she jotted down felt bland, irrelevant to the topic at hand. Nothing worked.
It just wasn’t interesting enough for her readers at the Steambird.
She passed a hand over her face, thinking how the word frustrated wouldn’t be enough to qualify what she was feeling right now.
The deadline was coming up soon. Only a couple days left to go, and she had not a single coherent outline in place. To say she was uninspired was an understatement, but that wasn’t going to fly. No, if she didn't put her column out on time, it was going to crash and burn instead.
She practically shoved her quill in the inkwell, and raised her head towards the ceiling, sighing. She needed a change of air.
She stood up, causing the chair to scrape against the floor, loud. She winced, and hoped that the grating sound didn’t disturb her neighbors in the late hours of the night. She grabbed her hat and adjusted her clothes before walking out of her bedroom, leaving a plethora of books and tools strewn all over, and heading for the door.
She felt the cool pleasant breeze on her skin as she locked her house, walking past Wagner’s workshop and the guards, who wished her well, not the least bit surprised. They were used to her leaving the city at such an hour after all.
She crossed the bridge and made haste as she followed the road she’d followed a million times before. In fact, she was quite certain she could get there blindfolded.
The path to Starsnatch Cliff was worn down, coveted by many. And it was no surprise, for the views there breathtaking, be it morning or night.
They were so well-liked, that Marla and Marvin never failed to show up and hog the highest peak for their dates, which seemed to always, always, coincide with the days Mona went to visit.
Waving away her bitter thoughts, she instead decided to focus on what she came for - the starry sky. The moon was nowhere to be seen, which meant that even the faintest of stars would be clear on the dark canvas of the heavens.
Finally, she arrived.
After making sure that the highest peak was occupied - and indeed it was, Mona, not without a twinge of irritation, retracted her steps and instead settled for the next best spot.
She sat down on the rock surrounded by Cecilias, the Thousand Winds Temple on her right. It was comfortable and silent, which was exactly what Mona needed on such a night.
She raised her head upwards in a gesture that’s been done by many generations before her. The passing of years was not lost, rather it was amplified in the stars, and Mona was at ease knowing that she’s staring at the same sky as her predecessors.
The stars were there, and will always be there, be it day or night. And knowing them to be a steady presence had kept Mona grounded when she started to lose her grip on all the things fate threw at her.
Seeing them helped even more. The world was so grand, so much of a behemoth that it allowed her to distance herself and view things from an entirely new perspective, and, more often than not, granted her peace of mind.
Mona pinpointed the constellations of stars, the planets, the way they sparkled and their colors. She adored the way the purples, blues and greens of the galaxy splattered across the otherwise dark painting, bridging the gap between the far and near. The waves crashing against the rocks created a melody that she could never get sick off. She took a deep breath, the air around her pleasant. And the more Mona watched, the more she recognized her decision as a sound one: she sensed her well of inspiration fill up already, overflowing like she was with emotion.
“Looks like this place is no longer mine to keep,” a voice spoke, airy and light from behind her, causing her to jolt in surprise, so absorbed she was in the sky, she didn’t notice the presence.
Mona watched as Venti plopped himself down onto the grass, carefree as ever, before continuing, “Well, it is Mondstadt after all.”
She waited for him to elaborate, but he had nothing more to say, so she said it for him, “Indeed. It is the nation of freedom alright.”
Venti smiled and went back to looking at the sky, and Mona followed suit.
Though she soon found glancing towards him instead.
Truth be told, she didn’t know much about him other than the fact that he was one of Mondstadt’s well known bards and drinkers.
That already was a surprise enough for Mona, having had a natural understanding of people for as long as she could remember. It was disconcerting to say the least. Though she supposed she was alright with him crashing her stargazing session: she knew this spot wasn’t only hers, and besides, he was a friend of the Traveler’s.
She turned, wanting to avoid being rude to someone she only knew in name.
“What brings you here?”
It appeared the interest was mutual.
“Stargazing,” she realized her reply had been curt, but he’d done it a few moments, so he could live with it. “You?”
“The Cecilias' fragrance, the views,” he sighed, sounding almost wistful, “it does a bard’s inspiration good.”
“I do agree on the inspiration bit.”
“Oh?” Curiosity sparked, Venti leaned towards her, eyes expectant. He was obviously waiting on her answer, and Mona decided she was a fool for ever opening her mouth.
“At least I imagine it to be inspiring,” she rectified, proud of how believable that sounded. She wasn’t about to admit she was struggling, and she wasn’t, to anyone, much less a stranger by definition. “It is quite relaxing, which I believe helps artists and the like.”
“And here I thought astrologists and bards had even more in common than I thought,” he quipped back, twiddling with a blade of grass he’d plucked out a few moments earlier.
“What do you mean, more in common?” Mona asked, scanning her thoughts to find anything that could explain his previous statement, “astrologists and bards could not be more different if you tried.”
“Ah, that’s where you’d be wrong,” he stated matter-of-factly, “there are many similarities between the two professions. For one, both have a cultural significance, regardless of what anyone might have you think,” he sounded a bit bitter when he said that, but quickly recovered his usual tone as he went on, “both record the past and present, predict the future in some form or way, and,” he raised his finger, emphasizing his next point, “we're both too broke to settle enough mora for as small as a meal.”
Mona froze up, and her face flushed as she sputtered a reply out, stressing each word, “I, I am not broke.”
“Eh?” He seemed genuinely shocked, which caused her to shake even more with embarrassment, and, with a hint of melodrama, he threw his arms up in the air and cried out, “And here I thought I had a comrade in arms!”
“Well you thought wrong.”
“I suppose I did, didn’t I?” he replied, laughing for a bit before a smile graced his face once more.
She hummed in agreement, and the conversation fizzled away, like the sea foam washing onto the shore.
He left first, saying something about needing to get a drink as he stretched his limbs, and Mona remained there till the stars began to fade away, the sky veering from dark to bright.
The walk back home had been swift, almost robotic, so much so that Mona was surprised when she found herself in front of her house.
She flopped onto her bed after changing into comfier clothes, all energy sapped away from staying up all night. She supposed she’d have to tackle her column after a short nap, yawning and drifting to sleep. And as she fumbled with the covers, she felt as if she had a better grasp of Venti’s person, memories of their conversation flooding back to mind.
He was there yet again the next time she happened upon the spot, strumming his lyre, singing some archaic song of a bygone time, a melody that was reminiscent of faded stars one has to know to find them, but ones that make the heavens’ all the more glorious and lovely to witness. Simply put, it was a chant that was like stargazing, linking times long forgotten to ones still alive.
She halted her steps, not wanting to interrupt.
Even the rustling of leaves, the winds and crashing waves seemed to be waiting on his air, all in quiet harmony with his playing. And had it not been night, she was sure some birds would’ve stopped by to listen.
Soon, the tune slowed, and when it ceased, she remembered how to breathe again.
He turned, and grinning, he spoke, “So, how was it?”
“Quite remarkable,” she answered, sitting down next to him, “you must’ve put in a lot of practice.”
“Not at all! There’s no need after all, for I know all the songs of Teyvat.”
The way he said it rang true no matter how she spun it, and after a small bout of silence, she finally said, “I see…”
“You don’t believe me,” he stated, looking at her with suspicion, unimpressed.
Mona paused for a minute, and then responded, “I do.”
“Are you sure?” he peered at her from below, squinting and sifting for any slip up, his voice utterly serious.
“Yes?”
He mumbled in thought for a bit, and, deciding her to be truthful, he concluded, “Good.”
Mona blinked at the oddity of the entire situation.
Venti simply went back to plucking the strings of his lyre, and Mona, who had long given up on trying to understand, found the musical addition to her stargazing session lovely enough, occasionally gazing elsewhere from the stars.
Mona ate her salad, content.
She’d managed to finish her column just in time, and it seemed to have been well-received.
The good news didn’t end there either, she thought, humming to herself. She’d gotten her hands on the newest of astrolabes and latest editions of her favorite well-renowned books, along with a few other astrology related apparatus, all of them now a part of her ever growing collection, and they provided her with enough material for a month’s, perhaps even two, she dared think, worth of columns.
Placing her fork down, she sighed, pleased with how well the past few days had turned out, staying put for a moment, the very meaning of tranquility.
She then quickly got up, and began cleaning up her plate and table.
She had some reading to do, after all.
Besides, a few books she’d borrowed were getting dangerously close to their due date, and, having been unlucky enough to live what befell those who were late, she wasn’t willing to risk it. Not again.
She gathered them all up in her arms, careful not to drop them as she walked.
Mondstadt’s streets bustled with life, almost drowning out the sound of the gushing fountain at its center. It was a pleasant day, an azure clear of any clouds, the few rolling across it doing so as light as feathers.
She reached Favonius Headquarters, and one of the knights was kind enough to open the door for her when she asked him. But when the door shut behind her, she realized that there was no one who could help her out this time. The knight who was usually there must’ve been on his break, and so she had only herself to rely on.
The library door swung open under the force of Mona shoving it with her shoulder, and had she not managed to lodge her foot in the door handle in the last moment, it would have slammed against the wall, and the ensuing cacophony would awaken a beast that she wished to avoid dealing with at all costs.
Precariously, she inched away from the door and attempted to regain her balance.
A shame, really, that one of the books she held slipped from her arms when she thought the looming omen had passed.
She watched it plummet to the ground, as if time itself had slowed. The spine would no doubt be damaged. Bent or indented, big or small, it wouldn’t get past Lisa’s eyes, and then, and then…
She didn’t even want to think about what would happen next.
And as she resigned herself to her fate, the book floated upwards and away.
Into the library, to be precise.
“My my, are you alright, dear?”
“Yes, I’m-”
“Oh I wasn’t asking you, Mona,” Lisa explained, “I was asking the book. It must have been terribly frightened from such a fall.”
Mona just stood there, unsure of what to say, offense prickling at her mind. Lisa smiled, and, extending her hand out, explained, her eyes speckled with mirth, “I’m kidding dear, here, let me help you.”
All the books in Mona’s arms flew out of them, twirling in the air for a bit, as if in a grand ball, before settling down onto Lisa’s desk, lifeless once more. Lisa sat down, and got to work registering them.
And just when she began selecting the next books she wanted to borrow, Lisa called after her, “Ah dear, before you go.”
Mona paused, and she didn’t need to divine anything to know she wasn’t going to like what was going to be said.
Mona trudged her way through Mondstadt, looking for each and every last person on the list, the people on its borrowed books all almost too late to return.
Lisa had said it was to repay the favor she owed her: saving her from the punishment she would have had to face had the book really been torn in some form or another. In other words, she didn’t want to do the work, and was instead lumping it on Mona with nothing but a thin veil of an excuse.
It wasn’t too hard though.
Most people handed their books over with the haste of a Dendro Slime hiding away when she mentioned it to them, and so she was swift in finding and placing every single book of theirs in the bag that Lisa had provided her, beaming, “Try to not drop any this time, would you?”
Her eyes scanned for the next book on the list, and it was one already past its return date by a few days.
Six-Fingered José and volume one of Breeze Amidst the Forest.
Reading his constellation, she was quick to narrow his current location to the plaza near the cathedral, right next to the Anemo Archon statue, and there she went.
She approached, and said, “Six-Fingered José.”
“Hey Amiga! Here to hear my latest composition? You’ve made the right choice, for I-”
“Uh, no,” Mona interrupted, “I’m here for the book you borrowed from the library.”
“Oh.” José replied, sounding awkward, “Which one was it again?”
“Breeze Amidst the Forest, volume one.”
“...”
“Well? Where is it?”
“I gave it to the Traveler.”
Mona’s face paled.
She was never, never, going to get that book back. The Traveler’s a hoarder in and out, and like a dragon from the fairy tales Sucrose was fond of, refused to part with any item previously acquired.
“Please head to the library.”
“What?”
“The library. Tell Lisa what you just told me.”
José left, the library his destination, probably regretting the fact he even engaged in conversation. She knew she was sending the lamb to the slaughter, but at this point it was either him or her, and that choice was a fairly simple one.
Mona started as she mused these thoughts, checking the next person on the list when she sensed a shift in the air, and recognized it.
She turned, and sure enough, he was there.
At the feet of the statue, Venti stood, getting ready to put on a show. He looked different from usual, she noted.
She chalked it up to it being a change in atmosphere, but even then she was still unsure.
She leaned against one the pillars of the roofed path, deciding to take a small break from her book collecting, curious on what he was going to show. From afar, she watched Venti start playing a song, different than last time, and before long a crowd gathered around him.
A shame that it wasn’t only people, for the song was quite pleasing to the ear.
She recognized the distinct miauling within the crowd’s quiet chatter of awe and before long, the rhymes slowly turned into coughs and sneezes, until it was the only thing that he seemed to be able to utter.
Soon, he ran past her, a litter of cats chasing after him as he tried to contain his allergies, yelling at the cats to leave him be.
Mona walked up to the pillar he’d clambering atop, the fastest one to react, and began shooting all the cats away, under the exceedingly grateful eyes of Venti, before helping him down and handing him her handkerchief, trying hard to stifle the laugh that was about to overcome her when he blew his nose, a sound akin to that of a reverberating trumpet. A musician through and through, she thought.
Unable to stop herself, she teased, “A cat magnet allergic to cats?”
“Try living with this monstrous ailment before laughing about it,” Venti replied, eyeing the cats that were still in his visual field, sniffling still, “I don’t even know why they follow me around.”
“Perhaps they recognized you as one of their own.”
“Me? A cat? Oh that’d be terrible…”
“You’d be sneezing left and right.”
“I wouldn’t be able to swallow a glass of wine again!”
“Let alone sing,” Mona’s eyes sparkled. “Unless you can rhythm your sneezes, in which case you could become the very first sneeze-strument.”
“No thanks,” Venti shuddered, like the very thought of that being his reality scared him.
Mona chuckled, and Venti soon joined in.
He stopped and cleared his throat. “Where are my manners!” he exclaimed, placing his hand over his chest, earnest, “ I have yet to thank my savior: your wish is my command.”
Mona’s cheeks went hot, suddenly conscious of what was happening. She took notice of how his hair shined, how bright his eyes looked as she looked into them, almost shimmering like a pair of jewels, reflecting the sun's rays in a way that rivaled Cider Lake’s luster.
“I suppose that is true, however, I am quite merciful,” she couldn’t trust herself with this much freedom to choose, so she settled for whatever, glancing to her right, gulping. “You may repay me however you see fit.”
“A kind soul befitting a hero! I shall see it done, then,” he answered, before bidding her goodbye.
Mona resumed collecting Lisa’s library books, though her mind was elsewhere, pondering what the bard in green was planning.
Perhaps he’d invite her for a drink?
Mona was sure her ears were bright red, and tried her best to shake those thoughts of her away, hoping to avoid imagining the warm lights of Angel Share’s reflected in his eyes.
Mona swung her legs, gazing at the cliffside underneath her feet. It’s the fourth day in a row she visited this spot, and she couldn’t for the life of hers tell why. Whenever she attempted to sleep, some aching feeling wormed itself into her mind, a grasp so tight she couldn’t unclench its hand.
And each time, she’d stick around for a bit, restless, before giving up on whatever and heading back home.
No, deep down, she knew what, or rather who, she was waiting for. What bothered her was the growing disappointment that slithered around her once more when she started losing hope that he’d show at all.
It wouldn't be too much of a reach if he never did. The planets’ whims were incomprehensible: perhaps this was the end of their intertwined fates, a simple tangle untangled.
But the plain thought of it upset her, and she hated it.
She half-considered going up to him tomorrow and urging her favor to be repaid, but that’d be way too petty and vain for her own liking.
“Quite the stroke of luck for you to be here.”
Mona turned, and, in record time, composed herself, hiding the surge of emotion that had rushed up, “The stars must’ve favored it, then.”
He agreed, thanking them, then took his place next to her, and continued, “I’ve thought long and hard about it, and I’ve finally found the best way to return your favor.”
“Oh?”
“What better way to thank a heroine than to immortalize her and her valiant acts in a ballad?”
“Let’s hear it then.”
“Of course, of course, just one thing,” Venti smiled sheepishly. “Could I have your hat?”
“My hat?”
“For special effects,” he explained, “to complete my performance!”
She handed him her hat, and crossed her legs, facing him as he stood.
He began singing, telling the story of that day, though it was hyperbolic in nature: the cats had become a band of evil monsters, him a helpless, powerless bard who spent his entire time whimpering under the effects of their curse, and her a powerful mage - the most accurate part, if you’d ask her - who came to the rescue. All the while, he shifted the hat on his head using his anemo powers, the other floating behind him, whenever the person talking in the tale changed.
Within the story, she scared off the kittens of doom with her magic prowess and broke the spell using her handkerchief - now clean and fluttering in the wind, and he made a great deal about how powerful an artifact it is, which caused her to laugh out loud, sides almost hurting.
When he finished, he took a bow, dramatic, and returned her hat and handkerchief to her.
“I take it my debt has been repaid?”
“I think that sufficed, yes,” she answered with a lopsided smile.
They then fell into yet another conversation about the most mundane of things.
She glanced at him, in an attempt to satisfy the ever growing curiosity she’d harbored for a while now. It was strange, in a way, seeing him sit with the backdrop of the night, voice quiet and peaceful, almost mystical. A stark difference from how he was usually seen, laughing and drinking his life away, singing to a crowd. A clear dissonance in the otherwise harmonious chord. She wondered which one was the one he thought himself, one or the other, or perhaps a combination of both.
It suited him, she thought.
The softness of the scene her eyes beheld seemed crafted with time and patience, hopes of being a masterpiece met.
It truly did suit him.
His voice strummed on, its hum like a pleasant, trance inducing melody helping her get more and more lost in his eyes, his smile, his closeness, his everything.
It was a beautiful picture, one she'd dare say rivaled the most stunning of stars.
She'd seen different sides of him for the past few days, yet she knew to not arrogantly think she understood him. No, he remained shrouded in mystery, even to her.
And something about the unknown had always, always, inexplicably drawn her in.
And Mona found herself answering and replying to things he said, just to keep the conversation going, just to keep hearing his voice.
Mona trekked back home that night, heart in a frenzy, head in a daze, barely registering the click of the door opening like every other time she had such an encounter. She slumped on her bedroom floor, laying her head on her bed, her handkerchief held in hand.
She was but a fool, she thought.
A fool with yet another sleepless night ahead, a fool with a mind refusing to forget the Cecilia scented breeze.