Work Text:
Barbatos had been to Liyue multiple times in the last centuries, and always, he had sought Morax out so that they, sometimes along with others, could share a drink. Venti, on the other hand, had only been once, and by that time, Morax was already dead.
Though the ground may crack, and the earth may erode,
always welcome are you in the humble abodes
of our hearts we’ve reserved should we carry the load
that you’d borne where you stood, where your love overflowed
Well, he knew he wasn’t really “dead.” The old blockhead was much too powerful to lose his life without causing an intense earthquake that would split his precious harbor into half, and, actually, Venti could still sense him moving about. Admittedly, his presence wasn’t as strong as before (he had the Fatui to thank for that, most probably), but it was unmistakable.
Additionally, it was growing. At first, Venti’d tried to convince himself it was because Morax had somehow recovered his gnosis or something similar, but the more time passed, it became abundantly clearer that the presence wasn’t getting stronger; it was getting closer. Sometimes, Venti would hear glimpses of his whispers in the wind, his familiar voice talking to innkeepers and adventurers about customs only he and the other archons would be old enough to remember, discussing Rex Lapis like he was an ancient relic in a museum instead of an identity he was still learning to let go of. The moment his soles met the land that marked the point halfway between Stone Gate and the Dawn Winery, a chill ran down Venti’s spine, the sense that something divine had stepped foot in his home weighing down on his chest. It never left. It only further approached. And today, in fact, that overwhelming presence and rich voice that refused to stop talking breeched the walls of the city of Mondstadt, entered through the front gate, even.
So, Venti did what anyone would do when faced with a similar situation: he sat himself on the roof of the cathedral, determined to wait for the home invader to go away.
It wasn’t his first idea. Once he realized that Morax was in his city and heading for his favorite tavern, he’d briefly considered going there himself to arrange a proper greeting, even readied the vintage bottle he’d reserved for such a moment and drafted a spiel on how to insist that they drink it together. Make of that master plan and his current situation what you will; Venti himself didn’t know why he’d flaked out last minute and decided to hide out instead, but the thought of a reunion with this particular person made his pulse go crazy, and knowing it would happen so close to home ( at home) only made things worse. All he really knew was that he was staying here for however long he needed to.
But he also knew—once it occurred to him, once he felt the flash of elemental energy mere feet below, once he heard the trademark sound of a Geo construct springing into action—that there would be no running if the intruder found (searched for?) his supposed safe haven and appeared before him.
The normal man by the name of Zhongli was every bit as breathtaking as Morax had been in his prime, even if he was looking at Venti like he’d just been made to wait three hours for an appointment that bore no fruit.
So your majesty and splendor, never will they fade
nor your words bringing wisdom or your might with a blade
The kindness you’ve shown to this nation you’ve made,
we return with our fervor and this sweet serenade
“Leave it to you to stay in a place as far away from the ground as possible,” he said, would have grumbled if only that were his style, as he hopped off of his Geo pillar and onto the concrete foundation of the cathedral’s tallest tower, all to stare down at Venti with his impatient expression and, unfortunately, sit down next to him.
The previously empty space next to Venti warmed up almost immediately. “Well,” he said, keeping his eyes trained on the horizon beyond the walls of Mondstadt, “if you’d told me in advance that you were so desperate to see me, I’d have sent a current to help you get up here, maybe.”
“Had I known that you were going to try and vanish the moment I arrived, I would have thought twice about visiting,” Zhongli retorted in that deadpan way of his, like he was merely stating a fact instead of biting back. Venti supposed that, in a way, he was. “Perhaps I should’ve done the same all those times you arrived in my home looking for my companionship.”
Venti laughed. “Perhaps,” he said, “but no, you wouldn’t be able to handle missing the opportunity to see—” He cupped his own cheeks in his hands, turned to Zhongli mimicking what he thought was the face of an angel, and batted his eyelashes “—this face, would you?”
Morax was never one to laugh at his jokes, and it seemed Zhongli was the same. He did, however, give Venti’s performatively cute display more attention than Venti had thought he would. “I won’t outright agree to that,” he said, effectively shocking the smile off of Venti’s face, “but regardless, I’m here now, and I’ve found you. For you to give me a tour of Mondstadt in the same way I showed you around Liyue would only be proper, yes?”
It was Venti’s turn to neither affirm nor deny the proposition. He only sighed, looking up at the clouds as though only they could sympathize with his plight.
“I won’t ask that of you, however. Instead, I would like for you to show me what you think is the most scenic and—how do I put this—romantic part of Mondstadt.”
Quickly, his gaze snapped back to Zhongli. There was, as usual, mostly sincerity swimming in his golden eyes, but unlike all the other times Venti had dared look into them, there was something else there too. Nothing that he could identify, unfortunately, but something that prodded at the line existing in his mind between curiosity and suspicion. What a sentient rock like Zhongli would want to do somewhere “romantic,” Venti didn’t know, but not a single part of him was inclined to reject the request. Why that was, he didn’t know either.
“Do I get something out of this?” he chose to ask.
“Of course,” said Zhongli without hesitation. “I am, after all, quite fond of contracts.”
The last, he said with the smallest of smiles on his face. The sun was nowhere behind his head, but Venti found himself squinting in his direction anyway.
Oh, our great Lord of Geo, you are one of a kind
Deep as the blue seas, striking as the sunshine
A wall of salvation for all of mankind
A beacon of hope — gods’, adepti’s, and mine
They conversed as they walked, though it was mostly small talk, but Venti could only dedicate half of himself to the duties of a functional and interactive human, the other half lost in a sea of song inside his own head—a song he’d made himself, no less, the words and melody playing over and over again since he’d first realized that Zhongli’s presence was fast approaching.
In the thousands of years you’ve been here in this land,
many a storm and hurricane did you withstand
When we’re drowning in waves or sinking in sand,
there is no need to fear; we can reach for your hand
He’d composed it to perform at Morax’s Rite of Parting a few months back, and though he had been a few days too late to the ceremony itself, the people of Liyue in mourning seemed to enjoy it. It wasn’t a bad song by any means, and if Venti did say so himself, it was one of his more genuine, honest, and personal compositions, but that combined with the fact that it refused to leave him all the while its object of discussion was here, droning on about some fisherman near Wangshuu Inn, made Venti crave a strong drink. Still, traveling with a partner like this with the sun slowly setting in the horizon wasn’t all bad, repetitive song or no, and he chose to focus on the road ahead.
“Road” was no longer an accurate word, in actuality; it was a bit of a stretch to say that the area surrounding Stormterror’s Lair had carved paths of any sort, but Zhongli had no complaints. This was, after all, the fulfillment of his request. Initially, he had expressed surprise that Venti didn’t immediately head in the direction of Starsnatch Cliff, but Venti was no tourist in his own home. Once night fell, and it would definitely take them that long to arrive on foot, there was really only one place that Venti would want to take a lover for an evening of romance.
Not that that was happening right now, of course.
Even Sumeru’s roses could never compare
—and Mondstadt’s Cecilias would never, ever dare—
to the lilies you breathe life into through the air,
to the drifting lotus that you handle with care
“Ah, while I’m speaking about the people I’ve met along the way,” Zhongli continued from whatever the hell he had been talking about earlier, “I did encounter the Traveler at one of the local taverns. They prepared a lovely cup of tea for me before I sought you out.”
Venti absent-mindedly hummed. “Yes, the Traveler certainly is everywhere and doing everything.”
“There for every conflict and every celebration,” Zhongli agreed. “They’ve told me quite a bit about their adventures, including those here in Mondstadt. I was most amused when I heard that they spent their Windblume assisting a certain bard-turned-teacher in collecting homework.”
“Oh,” Venti said, and then snorted. To think that the Traveler would talk to one of the most powerful beings in Teyvat about even that. “They must’ve told you what a fun festival it had been, then. Anyone would enjoy working under me. I am, after all, quite the delight!”
“Frankly, I’m just surprised any of your people trusted you enough to avail of your services.”
“My people know how to recognize genius, unlike some. ” Venti sent a pointed look in Zhongli’s direction, which the latter returned with a mere glance from the periphery, reeking of a smile he, for some reason, refused to let reach his mouth. Venti wished he would; rare and valuable was the sight of his uninhibited joy, something Barbatos had always been interested in drawing out of him. Venti, of course, felt the same. “You probably don’t know the first thing about Mondstadt’s poetry.”
“Hm,” was all Zhongli had to say to that, and the mirth in his tone was so audible it was almost a physical squeeze in Venti’s chest.
Long have we yearned to be graced by your laughter
A grin with shrunken eyes and a contented sigh after
Sure enough, by the time they neared their final destination, the moon had risen to the sky, and the stars were shining around it, but somehow, still not as brightly as the glow of Zhongli’s golden eyes. Venti couldn’t help but peek at them whenever he could, the contrast they created against the blue of the night sky no doubt an image that any painter would love to capture. He did still manage to stop before he ultimately fell down a relatively shallow clifftop, and thank the heavens for that, and as Zhongli came to a halt next to him, he gestured downward.
“We drop down here,” he said.
“Here” was a place with no name and one that Venti doubted anyone other than the most seasoned adventurers of Mondstadt knew about. He summoned a wind to carry him down onto the rocky ground, abundant in crystals glowing different shades of blue, where one end of a bridge, hovering over a shallow pond, stood. The other end was fixed on a small island in the middle of the water, home to a great tree that towered over everything below, leaves rustling in the gentle breeze Venti brought with his arrival. The location was no Qingyun Peak, and even the centerpiece fell flat when compared to the Dragon-Queller, but Venti was confident that the scenery—of still water, of butterflies in the grass, of the mountainous cavern that surrounded the place, concealing it like a best-kept secret—would be enough to give his guest whatever it was he was looking for.
Next to him, quite tactlessly, said guest plunged to the ground, his impact decimating the crystals at his feet. A shard bounced off of Venti’s leg.
Soft as silk, tough as rock, straight out of a dream
Like the rush of a river into a gentle stream
To earn your gaze of favor, all would do the extreme,
You are close but ever so far, it would seem
Venti rolled his eyes as Zhongli straightened up and examined the area. It was but a humble dwelling, but it seemed to suit his tastes. He looked pleased enough as he took in the sights Venti had specifically brought him here to see, and it didn’t take him long to decide that he wanted to cross the bridge, situate under the shade of the tree, and invite Venti to do the same with a vague hand gesture.
“All right,” said Venti as he took a spot next to Zhongli, “this is the spot. Is it scenic and romantic enough for you?”
“It’s perfect,” Zhongli said, his smile illuminated by the fireflies that drifted between them. He looked to Venti, then, without putting on a different face. “You’ve fulfilled your end of our bargain. It’s now time for me to fulfill mine.”
How a man could look so majestic and serene even while talking about contracts, Venti didn’t know, and he had scarcely enough time to think about it; his attention could be nowhere other than Zhongli reaching into his coat pocket with the grace of a (perhaps a bit amateurish) bard and pulling out one of the last things Venti expected to find in his possession—a floral zither.
His eyes grew wide.
“You earlier said I know nothing about Mondstadt’s poetry,” Zhongli said, holding the instrument in one hand and plucking at a few notes with the fingers of the other. “That may have been true before, but thanks to the Traveler’s account of Windblume, I can now say that I’ve learned to make love poems, though indirectly, from the best. Allow me to offer you this performance, as thanks for both today and the past.”
His fingers pulled on the strings—one… four… seven of them—and as he struck the eighth, an image formed before Venti’s eyes.
He stood on the steps of Yiyan Temple, lyre in hand, facing the expanse of the Yujing Terrace. There was no longer an altar for offerings and candles to pay respects, but the people were abundant, and grieving. He introduced himself as a mere bard who traveled far and wide, sensing the distress and sadness of the people of Liyue, to offer his own brand of parting gift to the Lord of Geo, a magnificent archon if there ever was one. He sounded his lyre and opened his mouth, sang with all his heart his first lines
Though the ground may crack, and the earth may erode,
until his last,
Though true it may be that we’ve run out of time,
for you, whom I love, I will always have rhyme
Anywhere you may be, bells of joy will chime
and I will sing of your deeds and of your life, for I’m
glad, and will be forever, that we’d met
Though I do have my sorrows, I do have my regrets,
I believe that, one day, you will join my duet:
a song of eternity not a soul will forget.
and opened his eyes to tumultuous applause and tear-streaked faces. To see Morax’s people longing for his presence was a heavy weight on his own heart, but with a smile, he graciously thanked them for their reception, wished them all the best, and began to walk around the harbor playing with his lyre the same song for everyone to hear.
The song whose melody Zhongli, in the here and now, recreated to accompany the sound of his own voice even while never taking his eyes off his zither.
Though the earth may erode, the wind will never cease
Be it a great hurricane or a gentle summer breeze
Never had Barbatos heard Morax sing. Venti could feel a drum beating inside his chest as more of Zhongli’s sweet, rich voice flowed into the wind, rhapsodizing about—
It blows throughout the land and over Teyvat’s seas
For the God of Anemo truly never fails to please
—him?
You shine bright as you did all those centuries ago
Ever quick are your quips, ever sharp is your bow
The beauty you've shared with the people you know
and the joy you create, I return with a show
For thousands of years, with your presence, we've been graced
Those from all walks of life, you've sweetly embraced
Many a trial and tribulation, you have faced
But steadfast, you remain; your warmth never replaced
Venti swallowed. He definitely did feel warm right now.
Liyue's lillies are certainly fair
And Fontaine's Marcottes are renowned for their flair
But the flowers in your kingdom are the answers to my prayer
From your delicate asters to the dandelions in the air
For a while, I have longed for your verses divine
And now I have been blessed, I now call the honor mine
You've gifted me your voice in a solemn goodbye
But for you, whom I love, I wish to live and not die
Though the world may lament, though the people may cry
Till the world falls apart, I will not cease to try
to reach for your hand, to stay by your side
For my joy and gratitude, I can no longer hide
Fate may wash all away, but we can turn the tide
I will sing of forever, if you will be my guide
Zhongli finished with a flourish, and only then did he finally look away from his instrument and into Venti’s eyes, both stretched thin and practically watering from how long and broadly they’d been open. There were no words to be said for a while, not after the onslaught Zhongli had brought, but they flooded Venti’s mind, swam in it, drifting and colliding endlessly such that they could form no coherent thought. He could barely make sense of the things he’d heard; he could only search for hints—the fire burning in Zhongli’s eyes, the one lightly staining his cheeks, the way he meekly put away his zither and his lips briefly curved inward as he waited for a response other than silence.
“You were there?” was the first thing Venti managed to say.
“I was,” Zhongli admitted, and quietly chuckled, “though you may not have noticed because I was—as you were hours ago—not quite in an accessible place. Your song was so beautiful that I was moved to create my own. It was my first time writing a Mondstadt-style poem, so you may not think much of it, but that’s fine by me. I intend to keep writing similar ones from here.”
He met Venti’s eyes as he said the last, and it took all the strength Venti had left not to immediately look away. “Oh?” he said once he’d cleared his throat. “How come?”
“Well,” said Zhongli, once he’d cleared his throat as well, “thousands of years’ worth of emotions and more to come can hardly be contained in a single song.”
It felt as though the water that surrounded them had turned to flames, and every firefly that fell into view was a firework launched into the sky, and yet Venti wasn’t looking at any of it. He couldn’t, not when Zhongli’s words both from the poem and no had him by the throat and pounded inside his chest and danced around where his stomach should’ve been. For a moment, Venti could do nothing but open his mouth in an attempt to speak and fail quite miserably, but in the end, he was the bard between the two of them.
“I suppose that’s true,” he said, “but there is a way to express all of those emotions without saying a single word, and definitely without the need to write a whole song.”
All it would take, he didn’t say, was a few steps, a tender touch or two, and either tipped toes or a bent posture or both. It was so easy to paint a picture of it in his mind, even easier than it was to bring their millenia of memories to surface, and from the look on Zhongli’s face, it was clear he already had. Venti didn’t and would never miss the way he swallowed, how his eyes left Venti’s for a moment to look inches below. He could take a single step forward now, or Venti could, and they could make it a reality, no words necessary. They hardly ever were. Barbatos could toss a bottle of wine in Morax’s direction and Morax could chuck a few boulders in Barbatos’ and that would be that.
Still, it was nice to hear the words themselves sometimes, partnered with action. “I was thinking of proposing that we go to a meal together first,” Zhongli said, “but I would hate to imply that all the meals we’ve shared previously mean nothing.”
Venti smiled. “I was hoping you’d say that,” he said, and decided—somehow, at the exact moment that Zhongli had decided he would lean down—that he wanted to stand on his toes, after all.