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Summary
“Lord Barbatos—”
Venti ignores the protest, and keeps playing to lure the bird forward. The bird flutters, hopping momentarily into the air and aiming to land right on top of Xiao’s bent knee.
Except Xiao flinches. He flinches, and darkness rears up around him. An acrid miasma, cutting to even breathe in the presence of, enough to steal even Venti’s breath away for the scarce moment when it first takes him off-guard. His music sputters out as he coughs, hand flying to his throat—
—and the bird falls to the dusty blue tile of the roof, dead.
“I’m sorry,” Venti says, and presses the back of his hand to his mouth. It looks awkwardly like a gesture of sympathy, but—he’s just trying not to throw up. “I’m so sorry.”
Series
- Part 27 of Zine Fics
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Bookmark Notes:
oh my god