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The Guili Plains haven't changed much.
Although Teyvat has carried on after the fall of Celestia, after the departure of the two Travelers from another land, some things just never seem to change. He'd always been convinced that erosion would come for everyone. It was foretold by all the other gods, and he had no reason to doubt them, for he had seen the results of erosion in action for himself. It came as no surprise to him, then, when the others began to crumble, or seclude themselves in hopes that they could cheat death, or at least spare themselves the humiliation of being seen in such a sorry state.
To date, Venti is not sure if it is a blessing or a curse that he is untouched by time.
It is a blessing in that he can carry the past to the future, that he can remind the world of what once was. Old traditions and songs can be replayed forever, the new world can brighten its future evermore with the knowledge from eons before. It is a blessing that his own memories remain largely intact, that he still knows who he is, what he once was, and that he can shape who he wants to be with each step he takes forward. It is a blessing that there is someone in this world who can visit the graves of old gods and offer them fruits and flowers, wine and quality time and words of affirmation.
But it is a curse to always be the one to say goodbye.
The road he walked to reach the marsh is still made of trodden dirt. Yes, the main roads are indeed paved and lined with electric street lights, but those winding worms of tamped earth are merely desired paths; there is a beauty to how humans hold their desires so true throughout the ages. The marshes have the same scent as they did thousands of years ago, too, the water still meets the banks in puddles of mud, his feet still sink with each step, squelching where the boundary between earth and river is blurred. He's been here often enough to know the marsh is still very much a marsh, and that it is very much in his best interest to wear some decent wading boots. It doesn't suit the rest of his get-up - but then again, fashion was never a preoccupation for their encounters, anyway.
"Oh, there you are! I've been wandering all over this place looking for you. Look how muddy these boots are! Are you proud of yourself?"
"Mrrp?"
"Haaah, I'm sure you are, you ol' blockhead."
There is not very much left of Morax.
Venti - Barbatos - he sits down on the rock that Morax is laid upon himself, sunning in the sunset upon the slate slab. The god witnessed the fall of his own companions, the erosion of the Stove God into the mere echo called Guoba, the way Azhdaha's mind slowly whittled away into little more than insanity. Barbatos knows that Morax saw it coming from miles away, oceans and mountains away, but he still wonders if it was frightening when it happened.
"Ahhh, what a beautiful sunset," he breathes, eyes fixed on the horizon. "Whaddya think, Morax? Is tomorrow another day of scuttling around in the mud?"
No answer. He glances over, at the form Morax has taken. The little lizard body is quite sluggish and still.
"Well?" He places a hand against his scaly back, gently as he can so as not to startle the lizard. In this form, Morax has become far less lucid, most all traces of sentience have been lost, and so he is very much like an animal more so than an adeptus or a god. He's usually quick to startle nowadays, and yet… "Oh, you're not even flinching this time… is today the day?"
"Brrrrgh." What strange noises for a lizard to make. Barbatos supposes he is technically a dragon but when he's this small and harmless, he's basically just a lizard.
"Mm…"
He dares to scoop Morax up into his hands, sets him on his lap. With a bit of a higher vantage point, Morax can lift his head up and see the sunset more clearly. His tail swishes, perhaps with curiosity or appreciation for the natural beauty of Liyue.
"You can see a lot more from up here, huh?" he asks. "It's amazing what a little help from someone else can do for your perspective."
The sunset really is beautiful.
"I think it's just you and me, now," he says, "and I guess Baal is still inside her puppet. Hah… it stinks, though. She's afraid of eroding again. It's a shame, too. It sounded like she was making some good progress, but then when the battle against Celestia happened, it got her spooked. Now, I'm just here mourning the loss of someone who's not even technically dead yet. Ambiguous grief, they call it. I wonder if you ever felt that, too… but we never really those mushy heart-to-heart talks, did we?"
The little lizard lays his head down on the bard's knee.
"And - And you know, I guess that's where I'm at with you, too," he continues. "Ambiguous grief. You've been like this for a while. You could still seem a bit more lucid until a few years ago, and suddenly, it's like you started to fall apart all at once, and… here you are now. You're not quite you anymore, you know?"
His tail swishes over his thigh.
"I mean - no, I guess that's mean of me to say," he backpedals. "You are still you, somewhere inside there. But… I don't know how to reach you. All I've got left of you is a lizard. Ehe, I used to call you a lizard back when you were strong enough to throw boulders at me in retaliation, do you remember that?"
"Mrrrp."
"Yeah, you do! That was probably the most fun you'd ever had - albeit, at my expense. But I'm not opposed to being the butt of a joke if everyone else is enjoying themselves." Pause. "Hey, Morax. I hope we've taken very good care of you in these final days. I heard the other reincarnated adepti and this cycle's Hu Tao have been keeping an eye on you."
No answer. Barbatos runs his fingers along the lizard's bumpy back.
"I wonder if you could still understand them," he muses. "You're an adeptus, too. You never told me if you had any kind of secret codes amongst yourselves, you know. Xianyun always says, one thinks this, or one will do that, and I'm telling you, one of these days I'll crack the code!"
Those words just tumble out, nothing quite connecting together. When he feels the pulse slow, when the breathes become shallow… When it is his friend, it is hard for the ferryman of death to be brave and soothing.
"I dunno what to tell everyone. What do you want me to tell them?"
"Mrrr. Rrrrgh…"
"Yeah, I hear you." He looks down at the lizard in his lap, still running his hand over his back. "You know, you should be nice and warm from your time bathing in the sun, but you feel a bit cold."
No answer. Slow pulse, shallow breath.
There are no right words for one's final farewell. Barbatos instead hums a gentle tune to his friend as the sun falls below the horizon.
Everywhere he goes, the god of wind and ferryman of the dead hears music. He should be a god of song, perhaps, if he so chose, but music and expression are not domains to be ruled over by the divine. Each region has some kind of leitmotif to it. That of Liyue is a beautiful melody, but in this region… The traditional instruments of Liyue dancing over a tender piano, like algae swirling on the surface of the marsh's waters - it evokes a sense of melancholy; bittersweet. It seems appropriate as a parting tune to the man in his lap.
The mighty Rex Lapis, the Deus Auri, Morax, Zhongli. This little lizard holds more history than the wind spirit could ever hope to record. He could write down every single word of Liyue's history and sing it to its people on repeat day in and day out, but he wouldn't know where to begin to express Morax's affections. The pride for the people of Liyue, the love for his adepti family and friends, the gentle longing and peace made with those who passed well before his time. His disdain for seafood, his fondness for newfound trends and slang (though he was never a natural at any of them), the innate fascination he had with craftsmanship, poetry, all forms by which humans express themselves. Mora, cor lapis, chenyu adeptea, glaze lilies, silk flowers. Stone pillars, earthen terraces, sky-piering mountains, vast seas, soggy marshes. Adepti and humans, birds and butterflies, life.
It would take more than I am, Barbatos thinks, to share the word of your heart about all these things.
Though, maybe it is not necessary. Every journey has its final day. Every epilogue has its final word. Every sun sets.
The body on Venti's lap has gone still and cold.
"Oh… am I too late?"
He looks up. His eyes meet with that of this cycle's Hu Tao.
(Cycles, they call them cycles nowadays. The Samsara was the same dream over and over, but the Samsara shattered when Celestia fell. The cycles are merely a conglomerate of ambitions that just won't quit.)
"I'm afraid so," Venti quietly confesses in the dying sunlight. "It was just his time to go."
Hu Tao gives a quiet, sad little hum. "Very well, then. Was he comfortable?"
Venti gestures to the spot on his lap. "You tell me."
She hops around in the mud, making sure to get a good look at every angle of the corpse of her nation's god. "Hm… hmmmm… he certainly looks like he's got the best seat in the house!"
"Oh, Director Hu, you flatter me so!"
The girl giggles, chipper as ever in the face of death. Though, she doesn't respond straight away. She instead squats down, hovering just above the mud, and stares out to the horizon. Her eyes seem to meet the sky at the point where the lizard's gaze would have been fixed. "What a view."
"It's lovely, isn't it?" He comments. "Although, I don't think there's such a thing as a bad view in Liyue."
Another airy laugh, another tentative pause. "Yeah. I think you gave him a lovely send-off."
His eyes drift to the cold little body on his lap. "I hope so. I know we weren't the best of buds, and he probably would've preferred if I were you, or Xiao, or…"
"Oh, please," she huffs. "Who's to say he could even tell the difference between any of us at this point?"
"Ehe," a light yet bitter sound. "I was wondering."
"Hm… well, no matter." Yet something is amiss, still. This Hu Tao has the memories of the final Samsara's Hu Tao, and she knows that he was Rex Lapis, and she knew him well. "Can I hold Mister Zhongli? I'd like to say goodbye."
But to every Hu Tao he's ever met, Mister Zhongli means more than Rex Lapis.
"Go ahead."
Venti scoops him up, passes him gently into her hands. She cradles him against her chest as if he could actually cling on with his claws, resting his head against her shoulder.
"Oh, Mister Zhongli… I suppose this is our farewell. You're gone like an ocean swell. When the sun is high and alight, when the moon shines at night… Through every sky, over every sea, you will remain like gold in my memories."
Ehe. She's got a better knack for poetry today than he does.
"Hehe, that last line is his," she giggles. "I hope he doesn't mind; I couldn't think of a better way to end that one."
"I bet he'd be honored."
"I hope so." She nuzzles the cool body against her cheek. "Mm… Do you think death is comfortable, Venti? Is it like being cradled in somebody's arms, and carried away to bed? Is it like a warm cup of tea, or the summer breeze in your hair, or hot sand and cool sea foam on your toes?"
Hu Tao is usually well adjusted when it comes to loss, grief, death. This is the first time Venti has seen her so teary-eyed.
"Do you think," said with only the slightest of tremors, even with her eyes so weepy, "he'll be reunited with his old friends? Will he be able to see us from beyond? Did he do everything he wanted to do? Did he leave behind any regrets? Have I always had these questions… or did the me from the Samsara know better than the me of today?"
Venti stands up from the stone, slogs over to Hu Tao through the mushy earth. He takes the cuffs of his sleeves and wipes the tears from her eyes.
"Death is a realm of infinite possibilities. To those departing, it is whatever they need it to be. I may not be able to answer everything, my dear friend, but I can promise you this: no matter what we consider to be the end, what awaits us is never amiss."
That forced smile on her face crumples for a moment, and she lets out a few good sobs. The next smile is accompanied by tears streaking down her face.
"You really have a way with words," she croaks.
"As do you, so I've heard!" he winks. "We should set up another poetry festival one of these days. He liked the last one; it would be a nice little in memoriam for him, don't you think?"
"Mhm!" she nods, sniffles. "Just give me a little time to prepare, b-but I'll have my work done in no time flat! Do you want to be my co-organizer again?"
"I would be honored to work by your side!"
"Then it's settled," she declares. "Speaking of working by my side, can you hold Mister Zhongli, now? I've got a shovel to carry."
What? He looks at her, at Zhongli, at - at a shovel that fell into the water.
"So you do. You knew today was the day, didn't you?"
"I just had a feeling."
"You're intuitive to these kinds of things," he comments, takes Zhongli and cradles him as she did.
"I've always worked around the veil between this life and the next, have I not? If I didn't gain an intuition about it by now, oh, I would be sorely disappointed in myself!" She picks up her shovel. "Come along, now! We discussed long ago where he would like to be laid to rest!"
"Well, I'm glad one of us was thinking ahead!" Venti follows along behind her. "I was so preoccupied with making it to him in time that I never thought to figure out what his last wishes were. See, this is why you're the director of the funeral parlor. I'm just a humble little bard."
"Oh, do you have to use such archaic language nowadays?" Hu Tao asks. "Look at you, you're dressed up all nice and cute for the modern age, but you still call yourself a bard?"
"Hey, we have tons of Renaissance fairs around Mondstadt! People know what I mean when I say I'm a bard!"
"Yeaaaah," Hu Tao drawls sarcastically. "So do I get out my phone and look for a new music artist online, or do I look for a digital bard?"
He groans. "Come on, Tao, I'm doin' my best here!"
"Do you even have social media?"
"Who needs it?"
"Not you, apparently!" He huffs at her. "Don't be such a stick in the mud! I bet if Mister Zhongli had time, and if he wasn't a lizard, he'd be more than happy to try and figure out this whole internet thing!"
"He'd stink at it," Venti says, "but he would definitely be happy to try, I'll give you that."
"Mmhm!" Aw, she sounds so smug, but in a cute and silly way. "So, hop on that, mister! You don't wanna be the only one left in the dust!" Pause. "On another note, Venti… how much time do you have left?"
"Either a lot," he replies, "or not much at all, and I just can't tell. The other gods of old have all succumbed to their fates of erosion over time. Somehow… somehow that hasn't happened to me."
"Hm… well, that's good, right? That means we have more time to hang out together!"
"We certainly do! I gotta get down here more often - and you should come to Mondstadt sometimes, too. Oh - it's especially lively during our festival seasons! We even have live music… you know, like a bard would do?"
Hu Tao laughs. "You're so stuck on that bard thing! But yes, I would love to visit Mondstand some time."
He does wonder. He wonders if the way the winds of time wind together has left him like this. Wonders how truly inseparable Istaroth and Barbatos are. Wonders if the wind does blow on forever, if that wandering puppet boy was wrong after all.
(Every journey has its final day. Don't rush.)
"Here!"
"Right here?" Venti asks. "Seems pretty unremarkable… but, somehow, that also seems pretty fitting for Zhongli."
"Mister Zhongli had a way of making the quaint and mundane seem romantic and charming," Hu Tao hums. She begins to dig a nice little grave; not too wide, of course, for the body of a lizard. "At any rate, though - this is the site where he used to have tea with Guizhong, just the two of them. Though, he says the others would often find them and interrupt their peaceful afternoons. While he wanted a place to finally reunite with her, to be at peace and among the sounds and sights of Liyue's natural majesty… he wanted everyone to know they could come visit him anytime."
"It's a nice, easy hike, isn't it?" he breathes. The night sky is bright in the moon's glow, a faint dusky light still tinkering with the horizon. "I'll be sure to bring him some wine from our next Windbloom Festival."
"Hah! You can't just bring him a gift you would like!"
"Why not? Then I get to keep it!" he laughs. "Oh, Zhongli. I can already imagine you getting some boulder ready to throw at my head."
"Think fast!"
"Wha - woah!" He manages to just barely duck away from a hunk of dirt Hu Tao nearly hurled at his face. "Aw, come on! That blockhead was a bad influence on you!"
"Hahaha! You've gotta keep your head on a swivel! Who knows what phantom boulder might haunt you from beyond the grave!~"
Every journey has its final day, but the sun will always rise again.