Work Text:
Venti’s hair and clothes whisked upwards as he hopped off the branch, then fell back into place as he landed with the grace of a feather. He’d used the tree as a resting spot for his snack break, but it’d already served his purpose, the sunsettia seeds he threw joining the tree’s litter of fallen leaves.
Venti stretched his limbs once, twice, then let out a contented sigh.
He wondered what awaited him that day as he listened to the wind’s sough, in wait for something to catch his attention. It made for spontaneous and interesting happenings, days brimming with adventure.
He stood in place for a while, but nothing of interest reached his ears.
Well, that wasn’t a problem for him.
He strolled back to Mondstadt, a tune on his lips, a plan of how the day was to be spent already done and drawn as he pushed Angel’s Share’s heavy door wide open.
“Morning Charles,” Venti called, voice filled with cheer.
“Morning,” he replied, not needing to raise his head to recognize him, “what’ll it be today?”
“The usual,” Venti answered, taking a seat at the bar, resting on his arm.
“That much?” Charles raised his brow. “It’s barely been a day.”
“I can handle it.”
“I wasn’t talking about you, I was talking about your wallet.”
“What,” Venti stilled. “What do you mean?”
He didn’t like where this was headed.
“I told you yesterday,” Charles explained, exasperated, “It’s about time you paid your tab.”
“...Let’s negotiate,” Venti attempted, lifting his finger, “One drink, as many songs as you’d like.”
“It’s morning, no sane person is gonna drink,” he gave him a pointed look, but Venti ignored it. “And with the size of this tab, you’d be singing for a month or two,” Venti beamed, about to accept, but Charles didn’t give him a chance to speak, “we didn’t have an agreement though, so it's a no.”
Venti wasn’t sure if he was physically or mentally deflating - a bit of both, he settled - and tried one last thing.
“Puppy eyes ain’t gonna work on me,” Charles told him as he went back to cleaning the cups on display, “better try your luck elsewhere.”
Venti's features pulled into a frown, and he hopped off the stool, his cape fluttering like the falling of a curtain at the end of a dramatic play as he turned to leave.
He marched off to the Katheryne’s booth, and, without wasting a second of time, asked her to give him the list of commissions that’d been posted for the day.
“Anybody home?”
Venti stared at the door he just knocked on.
No answer.
“Hello?”
Nothing still.
He wasn’t sure what to do: he couldn’t just abandon this commission, it paid well; but he also couldn’t spend his entire day on this.
He knocked one final time, ready to move on to the next one, and the door creaked open.
“What is it?” sounded Mona’s sleep-riddled voice, her eyes squinting when they came in contact with the bright morning sun. She was still wearing a simple sleeping gown, and her hair was down; anyone could tell she just woke up.
“It’s rent time!” he replied with a smile, “I’ve been sent by Goth to-”
The door slammed in his face.
“Eh?”
Then opened again, in less than a minute.
Mona stormed out her house, properly dressed this time, determination in her eyes as she grumbled about how absurd and fast time flying by was. Venti stayed on her heels as she twisted and turned, navigating Mondstadt’s streets mindlessly.
“I can’t believe it's today…”
“Where are we going?” Venti asked, curious.
Mona halted in her steps, and turned towards him, quickly recovering from the surprise that flashed through her eyes for a moment.
“Right,” she sighed, voice a bit rasp from sleepiness, “look, I’ll give you the money soon, I just need to get a few things in order first. Give me a moment.”
“Okay!” he replied, saluting.
He watched her as she walked over to the adventurer’s guild booth and began talking to Katheryne, shaking with more and more outrage as the conversation went on, before snapping her head in his direction when Katheryne pointed him out as the culprit, eyes accusing.
She regained her composure soon enough though and asked, “Give me a list of the commissions as well, please.”
Venti tilted his head to the side as Katheryne fulfilled her request, wondering what Mona was up to.
“Thank you,” Mona smiled at her, scanning the paper, calculating, before turning her gaze towards him, declaring, “First come, first serve.”
And she was off, leaving a flurry of droplets and sparkles in her wake. Venti took a minute to process her words, but only a minute: he was already scrambling to his next commission.
He wasn’t usually this petty -okay, maybe he was- but he wasn’t going to be the one to back down from such a challenge.
The next commission on the list was simple: All he had to do was get rid of a few cryo slimes near Dawn Winery. And maybe, on his way, he could grab a bottle from Diluc’s stash… No, he had to keep his eyes on the prize.
Venti made his way there, passing by the statue of the seven depicting him, and deployed his wing gliders to soar down the cliff quicker, settling down on the ground and continuing his trek.
He stepped onto the lake’s soft bed, alerting the elemental beings of his presence.
They hopped around, the surrounding chill emanating from them growing stronger. They were now on offensive, the large one generating and launching several ice balls towards him, but he dodged, swift, the ice shattering into crystals as they hit the ground.
He charged two shots, and made quick work of the first couple of smaller slimes, priding himself on how each arrow found its mark, causing them to explode into a whirlwind of ice.
The rest of the slimes bounced away, whether to escape or to attack, he didn’t know, but that didn’t matter, for his shot was almost done being infused with anemo energy. If he timed it right, he might be able to skewer the remaining slimes in one go.
Out of nowhere, the sun was overcast.
Venti raised his bow, and his arrow ripped through the large slime’s soft encasing, the shield useless. He created an upwards wind current, the few slimes remaining sucked in and sent flying, leaving nothing but a gust of snow and condensed goo as he stuck the landing.
He picked it up, deciding that he may be able to sell it, all while listening to the sounds that the wind carried to his ears, to figure out what commission Mona picked.
She was helping out Ellin practice on the dummies, which meant she was working her way from the bottom of the list, in hopes to avoid overlap and wasted time. And while he could’ve picked his next commission at random, he knew she’d pick up on it and follow suit, which will cause more useless travels than not.
He made haste returning to the city, and ran up the stairs, on the lookout as he power walked through the streets until he spotted his next commissioner.
Venti grabbed the milk bottles from Michelle’s hands after hearing out her request, skillfully bypassing all bystanders as he rushed to Quint’s fruit stand. He hopped off the stairs he’d climbed prior, and reached the fountain with no interruption.
From afar, he noticed Mona arms were full with wheat, her destination the bridge, and she did too. He stuck her tongue at her, and she responded in the same fashion, freeing one hand to pull her bottom eyelid down as she did so.
This continued as they completed more and more commissions, taunting each other like immature children every time they came across each other, until only one was left.
“Good morning, sir, I’m here for your commission-”
“I was here first,” Venti interrupted, shoving her aside, “Hey there! What do you need me to do-”
Tsarevich watched them as they kept pushing each other away, his brows furrowing as his face contorted into a deep scowl, “Will you seize your charades? Or are you here to waste my time like those knights?”
They both froze in place.
“Good. Now, let’s get down to business. I need you two to get rid of those monsters blocking roads. Let’s see,” he paused for a moment, recollecting his thoughts, “that blondie already got rid of the ones on the mountaintop and the mountainside, so you go get rid of the eyesore plaguing the foot of the mountain, right there,” he concluded, pointing behind him. “You have one minute.”
“That’s insane!” Mona gawked at him like he’d grown a second head and Venti agreed with her; the man was being absurd.
“Your time is ticking, so I’d recommend you to move along if you want to be properly rewarded.”
“You-,” Mona protested, though she quickly stopped when she noticed Venti taking the chance to get a headstart.
Venti heard water splashing from behind him, and he sped up, materializing his bow into his hands as the hilichurls came into view.
“Oh no you don’t!” Mona overtook him, emerging from a portal of water she’d spawned, and, with the flick of wrist, attacked the pair of hilichurls he’d set his eyes on.
“Hey!” Venti cried out, taking out another one, “No fair!”
“I didn’t see your name on them,” Mona retorted as she finished them off, but her eyes widened when she looked in his direction, smirk faltering. “Behind you!”
Venti twisted his head only to see the mitachurl swing a flaming axe at him.
Mona cast a constraining spell, slowing the attack down, and Venti grabbed her hand, sending both of them up in the air as the axe came down. Mona grabbed her hat in bewilderment, gasping, and her grip on his hand tightened.
She glanced up at him, gray eyes reflecting him, and nodded her head, understanding what to do.
They both plunged, the mitachurl stumbling, and finished the monster off with a swirl.
Their time was almost up however, and, without another word, they scampered off.
“We’re back,” Venti called out when they reached Tsarevich, panting slightly, “They’ve been cleared out, and in less than a minute too,” he finished, beaming.
The man responded, displeased, “You’re not getting paid to take your sweet time.”
“I beg your pardon?” Mona’s eye twitched as she argued, “We’ve done exactly as you asked!”
“I said you have one minute,” Tsarevich explained, rolling his eyes, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, “there’s two of you, so it should’ve been thirty seconds, at most. You dragged your feet, so you’ll be rewarded as such. Five hundred mora each.”
“If you meant thirty seconds,” Mona yelled, “then say it!” She took a deep breath, and continued, “Your first demand was already crazy enough, so quit making it worse.”
“You’re quite lucky I’m the professional type,” he lectured, scowling at her as he extended the mora towards them, “This attitude would have cost you elsewhere. Take your mora and leave.”
Venti could tell this was about to turn even more sour, and quick. Something told him that Tsarevich’s condescending attitude and Mona weren’t going to mix well.
And indeed, they didn’t.
She threw her head back in derisive laughter, then responded, pointing a finger at him, “If you’re going to jeer at us, I’d like to see you do better. Since you’re so efficient, let’s go find you a few monsters to take out, hmm?”
“Are you threatening me?”
“It was just a suggestion, kind sir,” Mona stated, innocently placing her hand on her chest, using the same patronizing tone he’d employed talking to them, which caused Venti to snort. He disguised it as a cough, but he could tell she noticed, for her smile became slightly more genuine for a moment.
“Listen here, you-”
Venti took note of how the man’s hand clenched slightly over the mora and, in a flash, grabbed it, tugging Mona along with him as he pocketed it, saying, “Thank you for your patronage sir, have a nice day!”
“Hey,” Mona scoffed at him when they got far enough, “why’d you interrupt? It was getting good.”
“He was about to send us away without a dime,” he explained, shrugging, “his fatui buddy was coming over and I didn’t want to pick a fight.”
“So he isn’t the professional type,” Mona noted after a bout of silence, grinning.
“It appears so,” Venti replied, knowing full well that his expression mirrored hers, “Here’s your share, by the way.”
“Thank you,” she pondered for a moment, before asking, “Truce?”
“Truce.”
“Oh right.” Mona fumbled with her wallet for a bit, and, after adding a bit mora to a small pouch, handed it to him. “I believe this should cover rent.”
“I almost forgot about that,” Venti exclaimed, and cheekily added, “would you like to split? After all, this commission would’ve been impossible without your contribution.”
“I’ll have to decline the offer,” she said, trying to play it off coolly as she messed with her bangs, but he noticed that her ears had reddened, a chuckle escaping his lips.
“Are you sure? This is a time-limited offer.”
“While tempting,” she started, clearing her throat, deploring her first choice of words, “the commission was to deliver rent, not have it paid. So I have no reason to have a share in that mora.”
“Whatever you say,” Venti replied, but he noted her shoulders had somewhat drooped. “Are you hungry?”
“I mean, it is way past lunchtime, so…” she trailed off suddenly, looking dazed.
“I’ll take that as a yes then! Hmm, what do you want? I’m thinking of northern apple stew, maybe even a sweet madame.”
“A salad would be fine for me, I guess.”
“That won’t do! We’re celebrating!”
“Celebrating what?”
“Our truce,” he declared, “peace is incredibly important, you know.”
“Uh… I suppose so?” she answered, still avoiding eye contact.
“...You’re acting weird.”
“Wh- whatever do you mean? I’m acting perfectly fine.”
“Really now?” He leaned in, in an attempt to glean the truth from her.
“Well-”
“Yes?”
“It's just,” Mona coughed, and, after an instance of hesitation, said, “my hand.”
Venti looked down, and, sure enough, he was still holding her hand.
He let go, scratching the back of his neck, and tried to wave off the awkward tension, “It appears I’m forgetting a lot of things today!”
She hummed in reply, thoughts elsewhere.
The stroll back was silent save for the sound of her clinking accessories that followed each step she took.
Venti swirled the drink within his cup.
He was bored, bored out of his mind. Not even the usual buzz alcohol gave him helped. All his friends were busy doing something else. What were the odds?
Whatever they were, they were being particularly unfair.
He laid his head on the table in defeat.
He didn’t have anything else to do.
It took a few minutes, but he finally gave up on entertaining himself with the way the liquor reflected the tavern lights, as well as trying to create a rhythm by sloshing it around.
One thing’s for certain, he wasn’t going to get any less bored if he stayed.
With one big gulp, he finished whatever remained in his glass, and left the tavern, an acute sense of déjà vu overtaking him for a moment.
He made his way outside the northern side gates, deciding that a walk outside would be the perfect cure for boredom. He turned towards the bridge, but a distinct clink from behind him stopped in his tracks.
From yonder, he saw Mona sitting against Mondstadt’s wall, brows knitted together as she worked something with her hands. Her hat was off her head, placed near her as she leaned over her handiwork, concentrated. Without warning, a gust of wind rushed by, and a dozen dandelion seeds were carried with it, at which point she threw what she held away in front of her, groaning in frustration as she held her face.
“What are you doing?”
Mona looked up from her hands, surprised for a bit, before regaining her frown, “Nothing worth noting, I’m afraid.”
He plopped down beside her, and picked what she’d abandoned a few moments prior. Green stems had been entwined to the shape of a crown, but its flowers were nowhere to be seen. Upon closer inspection, he realized what went amiss earlier.
“You’re making dandelion crowns,” Venti concluded as he looked at it, the feathery seeds long gone, leaving nothing but the stubs, a relic of what once was there.
“Indeed,” she confirmed.
“Can’t you use these instead?” he asked, pointing at the dandelions that have yet to fully mature, still as bright as the sun beaming above them, “they’re a lot less fragile.”
“I know that already,” she muttered, “it's just-”
She paused, and, realizing that the wind was no longer swaying her hair, plucked a couple of untouched dandelions with careful movement.
“Fischl read this book,” she continued, while slowly, oh so slowly, wrapping the stems round one another, “I’ll spare you the details, but she complained about this alleged fan favorite scene.”
Venti gathered a few wild flowers of his own, and set to braiding them together too, though they were buds of yellow rather than the delicate white tufts Mona had favored.
“Apparently, the protagonist makes a crown just like this, and wears it.”
Venti drifted closer, careful not to disrupt her, close enough to admire the movements she chose after split second planning.
“She said that it was ridiculous and unfeasible, that she already tried it a few years back and it never worked. And, I don’t know why,” she seemed to regret that moment even now as she recalled it, “but I said that it could be possible with enough skill. Fischl then told me that I had to prove those claims, and here I am, with this kamera, because she said she felt bad sending me on a quest for the impossible and making it evermore arduous or something.”
Venti didn’t bother asking why she didn’t refuse. If anything, from how he had to order her food a few days ago, he’d have been more baffled if she had rejected the dare. She’d insisted on a simple dish, and he had to keep reminding her it was a celebration till she gave in and got a proper, full meal. He thought over her story as he tied the final knot in his crown, setting it aside.
“Perhaps the author meant it symbolically,” he commented, “A crown-full of wishes, who wouldn’t want that?”
“Maybe. I haven’t read it yet.”
Mona looped the stems ends together after another minute of mere half tugs. It was done, and the flowers had remained full throughout the process.
“Hold it!” she instructed, gently passing it to him, fingers brushing.
She grabbed the kamera, and softly pressed the button down, as if any brisk move she made would destroy her hard work, the resounding snap announcing her victory.
Mona cracked into a manic grin as she reviewed the result. “This is going to wipe the smirk off her face.”
“Do you want it back?”
“Hmm?”
“The crown,” he repeated, prudently lifting the stems up.
“You can keep it,” Mona answered, then with a smile, added, “after all, you’re the one who said anyone would want a wishing crown.”
“Really?”
“Really,” she replied, nodding.
He let her take the crown and took off his hat, a clear gesture, eyes closed as he lowered his head. He heard her clothes rustle against the grass as Mona moved to place it there, her hands tousling his hair for a fleeting moment as she separated them from the flowers, languid so as to not damage it.
It was brief, yet it lasted forever.
When Venti reopened his eyes, he beamed at her, and asked, “Does it suit me?”
She answered after a moment of hesitation, ears red again, “It does.”
He chuckled, a warm feeling making home within his chest, earlier ennui forgotten.
Mona picked her hat, ready to leave, but Venti interrupted her, grabbing her sleeve, “Wait.”
“What is it?”
“I can’t be the only one with a crown.”
He picked the one he made up, and set it on her head, the mellow gold contrasting against the ethereal shade of purple her hair exulted. It was like silk, flowing down her back like water, held back by her black ribbons. He loosened his fingers from the stems, and sat back down against the wall.
“There we go. Now we’re matching!” He announced, fumbling with his hat and the cecilia he adorned it with, “Shall we commemorate the moment?”
“You, beyond the shadow of a doubt, like celebrating,” she teased, acting as if she were exasperated, “The flowers will wilt, unless I dry them, and those dandelions will be long gone before sunset, so how do you suppose we do it?
“Pictures don’t wilt nor fly away,” Venti countered, adding, “unless you’re holding them in a storm, of course.”
“Fair enough. That is a pretty good suggestion.”
She held up the kamera, and snapped a photo. And another. But it was too heavy for her arm alone, and the device kept shaking throughout.
“These are terrible,” she stated, laughing after seeing their smudged faces.
“Third time’s the charm! Here, I’ll help,” He picked up the kamera with her, stabilizing it.
Mona clicked away, and this time, the photo came out well.
“The saying seems to have some truth to it.”
“I told you so.”
Mona left soon after, and declined his offer to keep the photo, saying she preferred the first two’s blurriness. She carried her hat in her hand, occasionally touching her crown, as if to make sure it was still there as she walked back to the city. He saw her switch it with her hat at the last moment, and he giggled as he figured what she thought of. She still handled the crown he’d given her with care, and it seemed to be more a matter of not attracting attention to herself than anything.
Venti looked at the photograph they took, and realized the space between them was almost non-existent. It’d been done to ensure they both fit in the kamera’s frame from up close, but with the flowers and their smiles, it looked strangely… intimate.
And that was without mentioning his pink tinged cheeks, and how his gaze was directed at her as she focused on maneuvering the apparatus. Things that were easy to miss at first glance, but were painfully obvious upon another once-over.
Maybe it was for the best that she chose the blurry ones, he decided, humming to himself, covering his warming cheeks with the photo from no one in particular, the breeze picking up again.