Archive of Our Own

For as long as Glory could remember, the wind has always been her steadfast companion. 

Perhaps it’s because she’s always listening to the wind and not everyone does so, but she likes to think it pays a little more attention to her than others. It’s speculation, of course, but she has never heard of another Mondstadter (apart from those blessed with an Anemo Vision) having received quite the same attention she has. Perhaps it was because it was the sense she had relied upon the most since having gone blind as a young child and that the wind had taken a special interest in her, though that was purely speculation on her part. 

She remembered it guiding her for as long as she could remember around unseen obstacles and danger, the whisper of words hardly audible.

Be careful, little one. The second step is a bit steeper than others.

There’s a sleeping cat twelve steps ahead of you. The path two steps to your left is clear.

Your key fell from your pocket. Turn around and you should be able to find it on the ground in front of you.

When she was still a young child and clung to her adoptive mother’s hand or clothes with every step, she had asked Grace if she ever heard words upon the wind. A moment of silence prevailed, stating that while she hadn’t herself, she had suspected it was the Thousand Winds looking after her.

She had accepted that explanation readily as a child given that her adoptive mother was also a nun at the Anemo Archon’s church, but the older she grew, the more she became intimately aware of the voice that guided her through life. While Glory could navigate most of Mondstadt city without assistance, there was always a bit of chaotic freedom that existed in day-to-day life of the city that she couldn’t necessarily avoid that the voice always helped her with. A new merchant that set up along the entrance to the city, a cat that curled up by Good Hunter’s counter, or a gaggle of children running around town were frequent occurrences she always had to be ready for.

Being favored by the wind had turned her into Lord Barbatos’ most devout disciples. She rarely missed a mass, for she did not need sight to feel His presence in the church when they sang holy hymns, nor to offer her heartfelt thanks to Him and the Thousand Winds for protecting her each and every day. Her only gripe, if there was to be one, was the rather limited musical selection as of late due to it being a dry spell between Mondstadt’s many festivals.

Though if that were to be her only complaint in life, it was certainly a trivial one. She often spent her time sitting in one of the many benches around Mondstadt, and it was admittedly a guilty pleasure of hers to eavesdrop on the conversations of others—one she had repented for time and time again, but the deacons and deaconesses of Lord Barbatos’ church were just as benevolent as He, and forgave her each time. 

Anyone looking at Glory would not imagine her to be the gossiping kind given her quiet nature and often underestimated her situational awareness due to her lack of sight, but she liked to think she knew more than most about what was going around Mondstadt.

Her favorite person to confess to was a young man by the name of Dahlia, who had just recently become a deacon himself. She would confess her sins to him every week without fail, and while he would play the dutiful part of deacon and absolve her, they would often confer privately afterwards at one of the main benches around Mondstadt. 

“So, what’re the people of Mondstadt talking about this week?” Dahlia asked, and she could hear the telltale sound of popcorn being chewed. “Cardinal Seamus has been rather busy this week with Grandmaster Varka so I’ve had to pick up a majority of his tasks. Unfortunately, I don’t have much to offer you by means of entertainment other than a few drunks that passed out during morning mass on Sunday that were quickly scolded by their partners.”

Glory chuckled at the mental image. One of those nuns was likely her mother, but she always sat toward the back to make a quick getaway before the aisles became too crowded after mass concluded. “Nothing really interesting apart from an uptick in monsters near those ruins to the southwest of here. Some of the knights have mentioned an ominous feeling when patrolling there, supposedly.”

“Huh, wonder why. It’s not like anything ever happens there.” She heard Dahlia’s munching cease. “Apart from the time Alice decided a little…’redecorating’ was in order.”

Ah, Glory remembered that. It was about a year ago now, and the Dandelion Knight had taken it upon herself to scold Alice and send her into solitary confinement for a week. Not even the Grandmaster could make Alice do that!

Glory supposed it was because Jean was the only authority figure in Mondstadt Klee listened to apart from Albedo and her own mother. Perhaps Alice only went along with the punishment to teach Klee the importance of adhering to the rules (which was a hilarious notion for the infamous witch), but it seemed to have worked on Klee.

Glory sighed. “I’m not sure, though I heard they were sending a more advanced squad of knights to investigate.”

“Interesting, it seems the winds of change appear to be upon us,” Dahlia commented cryptically. 

Glory pursed her lips tighter. She had a feeling about what Dahlia was referring to, but she thought it was only her who had noticed. “What do you mean, Deacon Dahlia?”

Said deacon hummed, and she noticed the distinct lack of popcorn chewing. “Now, Miss Glory, you can’t play coy with me. You’ve noticed it too, haven’t you?”

Glory should have known that Dahlia of all people would know with absolute certainty that she had noticed the change in the wind. It was as if the wind itself had been collectively holding its breath for weeks, its frequent whisperings dipping down to only essential warnings and no longer chattering in her ear like an eager bird. 

It made her uneasy—like when she was forced to navigate an unfamiliar environment as a child before the wind became her ‘eyes’. When she was young, the only place she could safely navigate was her home. The city of Mondstadt contained main alleys, winding streets and frequent dead ends, so she often found herself turned around from that fact alone, not including the frequent music from bards and yells from drunks and shopkeepers that often disoriented her further.

Although she knew the city much better as an adult (and through trial and errors over the years), she still relied on the wind to a certain extent. There was always an inherent sort of chaoticness that resided in Mondstadt due to the nature of Freedom, and she’d rather not gamble on what sort of danger she would walk into.

Not that it would ever be anything truly harmful to her within Mondstadt’s safe walls, but she’d rather not tumble over a shop display or step on a lounging cat’s tail if she could help it.

So she had spent the last few days closer to home than usual listening to the chatter of the city from her open second-story bedroom window. She didn’t want to chance an accident given the wind’s…fickleness these past few days.

“I have, yes.” She folded her hands on her lap, one of her legs bouncing up and down. A part of her hoped was all in her head, but Dahlia voicing it crushed that optimistic thought. “Truthfully, I haven’t sat at this bench in a few days now because it was making me nervous.”

“Can I place my hand on yours?” Dahlia asked, knowing that an unexpected touch from even a familiar person would make her jump. She nodded, and the other’s gloved hand squeezed hers in reassurance. “I think something big is about to happen—in a good way.”

“How do you know that for certain?” 

“I don’t,” the deacon admitted. “But call it a hunch. Plus, Lord Barbatos wouldn’t want us to fret about something as small as this, now would they? The winds ebb and flow with the seasons of Teyvat all the time, so it stands that every now and again the winds too might get eager for some sort of change as well and simply cannot contain itself.”

Glory squeezed Dahlia’s hand and sighed. “I wonder what the wind itself could be eager for?”

She heard Dahlia hum again and another crunch of a popcorn kernel. “Who knows? But what I do know is we’ll be here to find out.” She heard him shake the bag of popcorn with his free hand. “Do you want any? Looks like a love confession is about to take place near the fountain.”

She knew Dahlia was trying to distract her…and it was working. Glory had always been a romantic at heart (as was the nature of many Mondstadters), so whenever anyone attempted a public confessional, she was always secretly hoping for a success (provided it was a good match, of course).

“Really?!” She squealed excitedly, lifting her hand to signal she would like some of his preferred snack as well. Dahlia pushed the small bag of popcorn gently against her palm, and she took a handful before popping a single kernel into her mouth. “Mondstadters or visitors? Spare me no details!”

“Looks like a couple from Fontaine based on their apparel if I were to make a guess. Oh, he’s getting down on one knee…I think it might be a proposal!”

Glory munched on her popcorn and hung on to every word that left Dahlia’s lips. The running water from the fountain obscured most of the sound, so unfortunately she couldn’t hear whatever was being said.

In the midst of Dahlia’s narration, the wind suddenly stirred. It caressed the back of her neck with the tenderness of a guardian, as if apologizing for its absence before the sensation disappeared as quickly as it arrived.

She shivered, which didn’t go unnoticed by Dahlia. “Are you okay?”

“...I’m fine,” she answered after a moment, cataloging how she felt. “Did you feel the wind too?”

He gave a sheepish laugh. “Ah, no, sorry. Did something happen? I was too fixated on the couple.”

“Erm, not really. It just seems to be back to normal is all.” At least, that’s what it felt like to her. She wasn’t quite sure how she knew it, other than she did. “What happened with the couple? Was it a proposal like you thought?”

Dahlia excitedly regaled her that it was a proposal. The woman had heartily accepted and the ring had been placed on her finger, her partner lifting her and spinning her around before kissing her passionately.

Glory, as always, listened intently, though she remained distracted about the sudden…calmness in the wind now. Days upon days of eager anticipation…only for it to culminate in nothing more than a brief brush against her flesh.

Surely a proposal by two Fontainians wasn’t what had the wind on edge…right? She had witnessed hundreds of confessionals during her vigil over this specific part of Mondstadt, but she could never recall a time when the wind had been off for a few days as a result of it.

No, it was something different and this was merely coincidental. Glory didn’t exactly have the means to investigate it thoroughly apart from keeping her ear to the wind, but in Dahlia’s words, Lord Barbatos (and knowing seemingly the wind itself) wouldn’t fret over this, and therefore, she shouldn’t either.

Everything was seemingly back to normal, including the wind itself. It continued to guide her once more as if nothing had ever happened, and with each passing day the worry that had filled her slowly became nothing more than a passing memory.

As per her normal Wednesday morning routine, Glory had walked down to the merchant stands near the entrance to Mondstadt to buy several Dandelions to offer in prayer to Lord Barbatos. Flora knew her request well—four Dandelions for 2,000 Mora. Dandelions were not a part of Flora’s typical inventory, but the girl insisted it was no trouble at all for her to make the quick detour outside the city walls to grab her a few, which Glory appreciated. 

With a pouch of Dandelion seeds in hand, Glory took the main road toward the top of Mondstadt to offer her bi-weekly prayer to the Anemo Archon. 

The streets were strangely empty for the time of day. Well, at least she assumed so. The din of the city was quieter than normal other than those haggling for goods or purchasing food from the nearby stalls. Even the wind itself seemed quieter, not needing to direct her around any unseen obstacles for once.

Many Mondstadters tended to be up late due to the ingrained drinking culture, but apart from the Dandelion Wine offered in tribute during mass, Glory rarely partook in any sort of libation. She found the taste overwhelming apart from the cocktails mixed by the young bartender at Cat’s Tail, but already being blind made any sort of alcoholic intake much worse on her sense of balance. 

So, naturally, she was an early riser that woke up to the warmth of the sun on her face each morning. The only other Mondstadters that were up at this hour were the Knights of Favonius, members of the church, tourists, and those with shops to run. 

But even then, it was quieter than usual.

When she made it to the plaza in front of the church, she could hear the morning prayer group ambling away. It was perfect timing as always and intentional on her part. There tended to be about thirty minutes between morning prayer and the first bards busking beneath Lord Barbatos’ statue, so she utilized the time to utter prayers without the fear of anyone eavesdropping–her mother included.

She pulled the seeds out of her pouch and clasped them tightly in her hands, wishing for a variety of things: health and safety for her family and recent crush Godwin, as well as continued peace for all of Mondstadt. Glory inhaled and blew the seeds into the wind, hoping that they would reach the Anemo Archon and that her simple prayers hadn’t bothered them too greatly.

She’s startled by the sound of a lyre a short distance away. The tune is one she doesn’t recognize, the style being more simplistic in nature than most bards preferred, but she’s soothed by the sound nonetheless.

After a few moments, the music ceased and she turned her head in the direction where she heard it come from. “That was a beautiful song.”

“Thank you!” A jovial androgynous voice called out, one that she simultaneously knew but also not. It was strange—it was as if the answer was dancing in front of her before being swept away by the wind itself.  “Ah, I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of meeting before. I’m Venti the Bard!”

Oh, Glory had heard his name in passing the last two weeks. He was apparently a bard that had appeared in Mondstadt virtually overnight with a repertoire of songs that outshone any other bard’s and a voice that soothed even the most weary of souls. Other tidbits she had heard from him included hailing from Mondstadt (though where, she didn’t know), a slight mischievous streak for scaling the Anemo Archon’s statue (much to the church’s disapproval), and that he sported braids similar to Lord Barbatos (something most Mondstadters included in their hairstyles).

She heard a whoosh of fabric—most likely a cape—and the faint jingle of trinkets of some kind. “It’s nice to meet you, Venti. My name is Glory and, if it weren’t obvious from my blindfold, I am, well, blind.” She gave a small, self deprecating chuckle. “So please excuse me if I don’t face you properly or if I accidentally bump into you.”

“Now, now, none of that! Let’s not fret over such small things, shall we?”

She was reminded of Dahlia’s words a few weeks back of how the Anemo Archon themselves wouldn’t worry over such trivial things and cleared her throat. “R-right!” 

Glory heard the bard giggle, something of an ‘ehe’ filling the air over the chattering of city birds. 

After introducing herself, they made a bit of a small talk. Venti was…surprisingly easy to talk to. Relaxing, one could even say. People often treated her differently due to her disability, and it often extended to something as small as carrying a conversation with her.

But Venti didn’t seem bothered by it at all, something that was admittedly more of an oddity than a norm (which Glory wished the reverse were more often true). They continued to make idle chatter for a few more minutes, the bard asking about her hobbies and interests, and he responded in kind. He spoke of his fondness for Cecilias and Dandelion Wine, as well as a penchant for nicking ripened apples from the trees around the nation.

It was then that Glory remembered something else she had heard about the bard. He was, at least according to the rumors she had heard, homeless.

Homelessness was essentially nonexistent in Mondstadt for a variety of reasons, but those that were homeless were so by choice. Some pilgrims stated that they felt closer to Lord Barbatos’ definition of ‘Freedom’ by doing so, others content to simply allow the currents of life to carry them to and fro without anything to tie them down. 

It was a common practice for Mondstadters to look after their own, as well as those that arrived on their doorstep, in search of a new beginning. For those that chose to live an untethered life, Mondstadters would often placed their extra food on the windowsill for Lord Barbatos’ winds to carry the scent to those in need of a meal, and the church and Knights of Favonius both had public areas for people to rest and cleanse themselves.

She could already feel her stomach on the verge of protesting audibly from her lack of breakfast, and an idea hatched in her mind. “Venti, would you like to grab breakfast—or I suppose an early lunch—with me?”

“Oh?” The surprise in his voice was genuine. “I think I have enough Mora—”

“No, no,” she cut off hastily, wringing her hands together. “It’s my treat!”

She imagined the silence was Venti registering her words. “No, Glory, you don’t have to!”

“Don’t worry about it. Think of it as payment for the song.” Then, after a moment she added, “Though if you paid me back in the form of another song, I won’t say no….”

“Deal!” Venti agreed readily. “Do you want me to guide you there, or are you fine on your own?”

Normally, Glory would refuse help from another as the wind always steered her true, but for some reason, she felt like indulging the bard. She extended one of her arms out. “If you wouldn’t mind, I would appreciate it.”

“Of course,” he said while snaking his arm around the crook of her elbow. She felt the light cotton shirt he wore against her skin and the tails of what she assumed to be his cape tickling the backs of her legs. “Let’s be off!”

She allowed herself to be guided toward the lower part of the city where a majority of the restaurants were. Venti’s steps were steady and matched her own pace, something she was incredibly grateful for as many people tended not to realize this small detail.

“Be careful,” she heard Venti say from beside her. “The next step is steeper than the others.”

That simple sentence is what made that nagging feeling at the back of her mind finally click for Glory. She knew this voice. Oh, oh, of course she did! It was the one that’s been guiding her for as long as she could remember—though not as ethereal sounding as it normally was—but the tone, cadence, and manner of protective speaking were the exact same.

She hadn’t realized she had stopped on the steps. Venti’s arm was still linked with hers and she heard him gasp in surprise as the motion pulled him back slightly. “Glory? You okay?”

“It’s you,” she said, not elaborating further.

“Huh?” Venti, no, Lord Barbatos replied, obviously confused. “Me?”

She listened for a moment to see if anyone was around them, and sensing none, she uttered: “You’re Lord Barbatos.”

The wind suddenly stilled and she felt a shiver crawl up her spine. For a single moment, there was no noise, no sound at all, and then everything came back the moment she heard Venti give a loud laugh.

“I’ve been complimented on my singing voice before, but no one has been so bold as to say I’m on the Anemo Archon’s level. That’s high praise indeed, my lady!”

It was a deflection, she knew it was. Glory thought back to the teachings of Lord Barbatos her mother had instilled in her, and the one at the forefront was how the Anemo Archon always took a supporting role in major events and hadn’t been seen since the time of Lady Vennessa. Rumor had it that Lord Barbatos had adopted the guise of a humble bard several times throughout history, who was to say they hadn’t done so again?

She refused to back down. This voice, this person, this god, had been watching over her for so long that both excitement and nerves about meeting them in person made her more daring than she normally would be. “That isn’t what I mean and you know it Lord Bar—”

Glory’s yelp of surprise is immediately smothered by the other’s hand against her mouth. “Shh,” he hissed. “Not here. Hold on, this may feel strange for you.”

And then she was overwhelmed by a strong sense of vertigo, one so powerful it caused her to lose her balance only for the wind to catch her. She felt Venti’s—Lord Barbatos’?—hand move to the small of her back and the other to support under her knees. 

“I’ve got you. Just take a few deep breaths and the sensation will pass.”

Glory did as the other instructed her to do, desperate for the nausea and dizziness to pass. After a few moments when her head no longer felt like it was spinning, she nodded her head and felt Lord Barbatos’ hands retreat.

“What,” she began, still searching for the words in her confused mind. “What did you do?”

“I used the wind to take us somewhere more remote where no one could eavesdrop on our conversation.” Lord Barbatos’ tone was suddenly much more serious, the playful bard tucked away for the time being. “Especially since it seems you’ve already figured out who I really am and there appears to be no dissuading you.”

And there it was. Lord Barbatos confirmed it so readily that it almost shocked her. She expected him to deny it more, weave some sort of elaborate tale to convince her that she was wrong, but he didn’t.

“Why?” She asked succinctly.

“...why what?” He replied hesitantly.

“Why did you admit to being the Anemo Archon so readily? You could’ve tried to dissuade me, I don’t know, wipe my memory or something.

“Because even if I were to resort to such…horrific measures, you would always be able to unravel my true identity in due time, Glory.” She heard him plop down in the grass beside her, sighing loudly. “You’ve heard my voice guiding you for your entire life. If anyone were to figure it out, it would be you.”

Glory scoffed. “You give me…far too much credit, Lord Barbatos.”

“Ah, none of that please,” he requested gently. “Please call me Venti. It’s…the name I prefer to go by.”

Glory swallowed nervously but nodded. “Right, Venti. Can I…can I ask you something?”

“It depends on what the question is. I may not be able to answer it.”

She wasn’t surprised by that. Obviously, there were some secrets the gods couldn’t speak about.

“I don’t mean to pry, it’s just….” Glory pulled her knees up to her chest, the words stuck in her throat.

“Ask,” he encouraged gently. “You have nothing to fear, child of Freedom and Mondstadt.”

The way he chose to describe her sent heat to her cheeks. Although it was true she supposed, it was still embarrassing to be called diminutive by the god she had prayed to all her life while he sat beside her like they were out for an ordinary meetup between friends.

…though she supposed that’s exactly what this was regardless of having only ‘met’ him less than an hour ago. Despite whisking her somewhere outside the walls of Mondstadt , he hadn’t made any sort of threats or demands from her. Hopefully that was a good sign.

“...why haven’t you informed the people of Mondstadt of your return? Surely they would be overjoyed to know their god walks amongst them once more?”

She felt the wind brush against her exposed arms and legs. It was warm at first, then, beneath the first layer and almost entirely missable, was a sharp coldness that reminded her of profound loneliness.

“Can you keep a secret, Glory?”

Her voice failed her once more, so she settled on nodding her head.

“I never wanted to be a god,” he confessed, so quietly that she had to lean closer to hear it. She scooted closer to the god, her fingers accidentally brushing against his. They both gasped, but something within her whispers to return the care he has bestowed upon her all her life, and she threads their fingers together in a supportive gesture. She squeezed once, and the bard sighed again. “And I never sought to be worshiped as one. I only did it because…because….”

Words, normally the best friend of a bard, were futile for him at this moment. Glory vaguely registered that the noises emanating from him were a vain attempt to conceal the fact that he was crying. “Venti….”

“S-sorry, I’m still a bit…disoriented too I suppose.” One of his fingers began to tap against her knuckles anxiously. “I only recently woke up, you see. So the events from the Cataclysm are still fresh for me as if they only happened a week ago.”

Glory didn’t know how to respond. She had lived her entire life in safety within the walls of Mondstadt, something she knew had almost fallen five centuries ago during the height of the invasion from the Abyss. Records from that time were spotty at best. The Favonian Library had burned, the Knights decimated, and the fields they relied on their food supply had been razed…. 

“I’m sorry, Venti.” She moved her free hand to the other’s back, rubbing soothing motions in an attempt to alleviate his pain. “I…wish there was something I could do to help.”

“No, no, please don’t feel guilty. I shouldn’t have said anything!” She felt his body shake with anxiety as she continued to rub his back. “Ugh, I’m still not completely awake yet….”

Glory blinked. “...but you are awake? That’s the second time you mentioned that.”

She heard Venti groan. “It’s…never mind. It’s complicated.” The bard cleared his throat and she felt him straighten his posture. “Anyway, I prefer to remain in the shadows and only intervene if absolutely necessary. Simply being Venti the human bard that gets drunk in taverns and serenades the people with finely crafted poetry is my preferred way of life.”

That…made a lot of sense. Of course the Anemo Archon, the one Archon that didn’t directly rule over their nation and instead left the people to forge their own path ahead, wanted to live in anonymity. 

And it made even more sense that Venti too craved freedom from his title as a god.

“Actually that explains a lot. You yearn for freedom too, don’t you, Venti?”

He’s silent for a moment before she hears a quiet chuckle. “You’re sharp, Glory. Perhaps I have the deacon to thank for that.”

 “...deacon? You mean Seneschal Seamus, surely?” Glory pulls her hand away from Venti’s back “Wait, does he know who you are?”

Venti’s chuckle becomes an all-consuming full-body laugh at her line of questioning. “Oh Lord Barbatos, no. Seamus has suspicions about who I am, but I was talking about Dahlia—”

“Dahlia?!” Glory yelled in surprise. “He’s the deacon you mean?”

“Technically, soon to be Herald of Barbatos.” There’s a brief pause, and for some reason she felt as though Venti was winking at her (not that she could see it). “Varka and I spoke about it last week and agreed it would be a good idea for ‘Lord Barbatos to have a more direct line of communication to the people’.”

“Huh,” she said articulately. Then, upon realizing that she had seen Dahlia since that time, he hadn’t confessed this piece of news to her. “Dahlia knows who you are? And the Grandmaster?”

“Yup!” Venti said happily. It appeared that his melancholic mood was fading the more they spoke. “It was actually Varka making a racket here which is what woke me up, ehe!”

And where ‘here’ was, Glory did not know. “Where are we, exactly?”

“Oh! Right, sorry. We’re at the Thousand Winds Temple.”

Glory choked on her spit. Venti had teleported them across most of the nation in a mere moment? She supposed this was the power of a god at work. “Wow….”

“Aha…yeah,” he finished lamely. “Anyway…um. Can you promise me you’ll keep this a secret for now? I kind of…want to keep being Venti the Bard for as long as I can.”

Glory didn’t even need to think of her response. “Of course, Venti. I was already planning to even if you didn’t ask me.”

A sigh of relief. “Thank you Glory…you don’t know how much that means to me.”

She nodded in acknowledgement of his words and they lapsed into silence, neither quite knowing what to say.

Glory could feel the wind on her face, now tinged with a hint of sea breeze. She hadn’t been to the sea in, well, she couldn’t remember. The closest she got were the few excursions to Cider Lake with her mother and brother, and those had been growing fewer and fewer as of late.

She had never been able to wander freely unlike most Mondstadters due to her disability, but she still yearned to feel the open air just as she was now. Her mother had been busy with an uptick in refugees from Snezhnaya and Timmie was at that fiercely independent age where he didn’t want anyone—especially his sister—to be following him around. She had even debated asking Dahlia, but he too had been much busier as of late, though now she knew the true reason why.

Perhaps….

“Venti, may I ask something of you,” she asked, then suddenly thinking he may get the wrong idea, hastily tacked on: “As a friend, not as well, you know?”

“Sure!” He said without missing a beat. “What is it?”

Glory licked her lips nervously. “Would you…mind accompanying me outside the city walls sometime?”

“Huh? That’s it?” He asked, seemingly bewildered, and Glory had a feeling those that knew of his true identity in the past had tried to extort more from him than a simple walk around said Archon’s nation.

Her response came out more as a question than an answer “...yes? The sea breeze is…really nice. I haven’t felt something like this in…well, ever.”

“You mean to tell me you’ve never been to the coast? Dornman Port? Dandelion Sea?”

She shook her head. “My mother…has always feared for my safety, and the last time I left Mondstadt city was several years ago to visit a well known physician in Liyue.” Oh, her knee was bouncing again. “She and my brother have been busy as of late and I just want to…go out and explore, you know?”

Venti smiled. “Ah, I should have suspected a child of Freedom would too yearn for the freedom beyond the walls of this city. How about now? Shall we take a stroll and bask in the open fields of Mondstadt proper?”

“Really?” She asked, not caring how desperate and hopeful she sounded. “W-would that really be okay?”

“Of course, of course! No time like the present!” She felt his breath ghost against the shell of her ear as he whispered almost conspiratorially: “And perhaps I may indulge you with a song or two for listening to an old bard’s woes.”

She pushed her shoulder against his fondly, causing the bard to fall back a bit with laughter. Glory could feel a smile work its way to her face. “But really, I’d love that Venti.”

“May I have your hand, my lady? I have so many great places to show you!”

She placed her hand in his, and she was swept away by the wind.

A few days later after her weekly confessional with Dahlia, the pair were sitting near the peak of Starsnatch Cliff—a recent change in venue inspired by a certain bard.

“So,” Dahlia began, popcorn in hand as always. “Any interesting rumors this week?”

“Wait, wait! Don’t start without me!” She heard frantic footsteps and the snapping of twigs, the newcomer quickly sliding to the vacant opening on her left while the deacon sat to her right. “I didn’t miss anything, did I?”

“Well, well, look what the Anemo Archon dragged in.” Glory tried to contain a snort at Dahlia’s choice of wording, but failed. “It’s Venti the Bard.”

“Hello to you, Deacon Dahlia,” Venti chirped. “Wonderful weather we’re having.” 

“Indeed it is, I suppose we have Lord Barbatos to thank for that.”

She didn’t need sight to feel Venti’s gaze on her and Dahlia as if trying to deduce something.

“I’m here too, you know,” Glory chimed in. “Sitting between you two and everything.”

“Sorry,” they muttered in unison.

“That’s better.” She crossed her legs and arms. “And no Venti, we just started, though I didn’t know to expect you.”

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly. “The wind told me and well…I couldn’t resist the temptation to join in.” 

“What do you say Glory, should we let him join us?” Dahlia asked.

She made a show of fake pondering. “Only if you brought some interesting news or rumors for us….”

“Ha!” Venti shouted, suddenly from a lot higher up. Was he standing up? Floating? “I have so many things to share I could make your heads spin.”

“Sit down and stop hovering, Venti,” Dahlia chastised. “We don’t need the Church or another Knight of Favonius to scold you again after what happened two days ago.”

Now her curiosity was piqued. “What happened two days ago?”

Dahlia gave a snort of laughter. “This one thought it was a wise idea to sing ‘salacious songs about Lord Barbatos’ in the church plaza and the nuns weren’t exactly fans of the content. It caused such a ruckus the Knights had to be called to dispel the crowd.”

Oh, Glory had heard about that particular incident from her mother, though she hadn’t imagined it to be Venti of all bards. “That was you?”

“T’was me indeed,” the Anemo Archon confirmed. “And it was the truth! I swear it!”

Dahlia nudged her side conspiratorially. “And how do you know it was the truth?”

“Because I was the—” The bard hastily coughed. “Because I have a firsthand account that the Church deems too ‘blasphemous’ for their curated selection…as well as the Favonius Library.”

“And what is this firsthand account?” Glory asked, piling on Venti further.

“Ah, well…” he trailed off. “Hey! Didn’t you say you had something to share, Glory?”

And he played right into our hands, Glory thought to herself, nudging Dahlia back.

“Rumor has it,” Glory began, a smirk on her face. “That Lord Barbatos is just a humble bard busking around Mondstadt.”

“Well, well, well, I’ve heard that rumor too.” A crunch of a popcorn kernel from the deacon. “Have you, Venti?”

She heard the bard grumble. “I don’t know what you two are talking about.”

“And,” she continued. “He drank 38 glasses of Dandelion Wine before Diluc cut him off and threw him out for the night.”

“I heard it was 39 glasses and that Diluc put him in one of the wagons to sleep it off,” Dahlia added.

Another groan from Venti. “Guys….”

“And when he woke up the next morning, he flew a dozen feet in the air because a cat had decided the wagon would make for an excellent basking spot.” Now, that part was slightly exaggerated from what Dahlia had told her, but it held a grain of truth nonetheless.

“It had to have been higher than that—he cleared the rooftop!”

“GUYS!” Venti shouted. “Okay, okay, you both made your point. You’re in cahoots and are out to tease me.” He sighed dramatically and she heard his back hit the ground behind him. “Woe is me!”  

Dahlia caved first, breaking out into a laugh at the Archon’s expense, and Glory couldn’t help but follow suit.

“Sorry,” Glory said through her laughter. “We couldn’t resist the opportunity to mess with you a little bit—though Dahlia started it.”

“I did, indeed,” the deacon said proudly. “I have to get back at you for those cryptic messages you sent me along the wind currents while you were drunk.”

“Betrayed by my own Herald!” He cried dramatically. “Whatever shall I do?”

“Repent,” Dahlia’s smooth voice cut in. “You can start by offering us the tasty morsels of gossip you’ve been holding out on since you’ve woken up.”

She heard Venti snicker, and a wide smile spread across her face. “With pleasure!”