Chapter Text
Kirara was used to searching high and low for all sorts of exotic people who lived in all sorts of strange lands—packages in hand, of course—but she had to admit, this Venti fellow was a special kind of difficult to deliver to.
First of all, international deliveries were always a bit tricker; it was hard to navigate an area she didn’t know that well. (Though that alone wasn't awful because Kirara loved exploring new places!)
But secondly, and most odd, the package had his home address listed as the Favonius Cathedral.
She couldn’t deny how she had sat on that one for a long while. As far as she knew, people didn’t live in cathedrals. She was fairly sure that even Mondstadt’s clergy didn’t actually live in their local Cathedral. (Maybe it was a cultural difference?) Or…did the guy just not have a house? Who doesn't have a house??
Technically, Kirara knew some people who didn’t live in houses, but they were all eccentric exceptions, in no way bound by standard expectations.
She had thought about the whole thing for even longer before realizing that he must be a member of their clergy, and the individual who wanted to send the package must not know this ‘Venti’ person’s exact address. There was no reason to be overly suspicious of that. Kirara had been warned he’d be hard to find.
It was her responsibility to see a package all the way from the sender to recipient, and she had no intention of shirking this duty just because she got a tricky assignment. Besides, the package was fairly small, as far as deliveries went. She could hold the brown paper covered cube in one hand if she needed to, and it weighed a little more than an apple. It was barely a burden, really.
So when she got to the Cathedral in question, she wasted no time going straight up to the nuns so she could ask them her important questions, easily locating the most important looking one in a snap.
“Kirara of Komaniya Express at your service!” She said to the girl at the back of the Cathedral with the pigtails and the nice dress. “I have one package for the Favonius Cathedral.”
Barbara, as she then introduced herself as, eyed the package with undisguised curiosity, but she did not move to take it. “I don’t mean to be unhelpful, or rude, but we didn’t order any packages.”
Kirara was quick to clear up the confusion—which she had accidentally put into play… whoops.
“It’s not for the Cathedral exactly,” she rushed to say, “it’s actually for some guy named Venti. But this was listed as the address.”
Barbara’s face soured, and Kirara lit up at the confirmation that at the very least, this girl knew who she was talking about. That was better than not knowing of the guy at all! If that had been the case, then Kirara really would’ve been in trouble. This was the only lead she had.
“Isn’t Venti a member of the Cathedral staff?” Kirara asked. “Shouldn’t he be here right now?”
“Venti…doesn’t live or work at the Cathedral,” Barbara said, plastering on a cute little smile while the silence stretched.
“Are you sure?”
“Uhm. I am the Deaconess of the Cathedral. Yes, I’m sure.”
“Do you know where he does live then?” Kirara leaned very far into Barbara’s personal space, but it was an emergency! Every second that passed, her customer was not receiving his package, and how could she let that atrocity last any longer? She was in the right city for goodness’ sake! And it wasn’t even that large of a city compared to some of the places she’d been.
“I don’t?” Barbara brought a finger to her chin. “Though now that I think about it, I’m not even sure he has a house in the city.”
Kirara pursed her lips. “Why?”
“Why what?” Barbara was talking in overtly soft tones, now.
“Why doesn’t he have a house?” Kirara asked.
“I think he prefers it that way?” Her face was sheepish, as if she had suddenly realized that that possibility should’ve been probed prior to now, without the interference of a foreigner. Kirara certainly thought so, and she would’ve addressed the matter were he her friend. Then again, she couldn’t actually tell what the relationship between Barbara and Venti was, whether they were simple acquaintances or not. The Deaconess was being oddly obtuse on the matter.
“But how is he supposed to get deliveries that way?”
“Sorry,” Barbara said, clasping her hands together and shrinking back even further. “I don’t know.”
Kirara deflated, though she only let herself seep in the unfortunateness a moment longer. There was still a job to get done. Kirara clasped her hands together, pleading, with a face she knew most couldn’t refuse.
“Do you have any idea where I might be able to find him?” She asked. “Even if he’s not here, he must be somewhere in the city. Please?”
Luckily for her, it seemed the Deaconess wasn’t stingy about information-sharing. Barbara stared off into the distance, thinking so many thoughts that Kirara was, sadly, not privy to. But Kirara could wait. She would wait! Even though she hated waiting.
Barbara bit her lip. “Well…”
…
The fountain.
He’s a bard, a truly talented one. Wears a lot of green, too.
Kirara had begun this search at the bottom of the city, then gone to the top of the city, and now she was back to the bottom of the city again. She was certainly getting some exercise in for the day. There was no shame in a bit of backtracking, but she was hoping this all wrapped up sooner rather than later considering that it would likely set her schedule back the longer it went on.
To begin with, it had been an extra delivery she had picked up solely because the mysterious patron had paid her and her company so much money to do it. Half now and half later, they had promised.
Not that Kirara needed all that money…but it was shiny! Like, really super shiny! She couldn’t refuse it. (And for that matter, neither could her company.) She had already begun conceiving of some fun ways to use it. What if she put a surprise coin in her deliveries for the next couple of months? That might be a nice treat to some lucky people, especially considering she would love if someone randomly gave her a shiny object. Maybe it’d be a good promotional event for Komaniya Express!
Kirara was seriously considering bringing it up at the next staff meeting.
But enough about shiny coins; she had a bard to track down. Barbara had sent her down to the fountain, where she had said the bard often played music, so that’s where Kirara would go.
On the way there, she took a brief stop at no less than five stores—because they just looked so interesting—but she did get back on track in the end. She blamed her unnecessary detours on why the fountain didn’t present her with who she was looking for.
Because at the fountain, there was no Venti. Or, well, there was no person who looked like what Venti supposedly looked like. Barbara had mentioned that he had a bright green hat, and there was no way Kirara would miss that unless she was colorblind.
Which…she didn’t think she was colorblind. She had never bothered to check.
…Should she check if she was colorblind? Was that a thing that might make her a sub-par delivery woman? Because now she was thinking about it, and she couldn’t stop thinking about it, and it seemed like such an obvious thing that needed to be checked immediately—she snapped back to attention before she could spiral about being potentially colorblind because for Archon’s sake, she still had a bard to track down.
She had also apparently been standing around long enough to attract attention, which was a little embarrassing. A man lounging against the wall was waving at her, a sword at his side. When he realized that she had noticed him, he came sauntering up to her, all charm and suave.
“Are you alright, traveler?” he asked. “I couldn’t help but notice you look a bit lost.”
"It's alright," she said, dejected.
"But it clearly isn't. I'm Kaeya, a knight, and it's the job of the knights to help where we can."
“I’m good, I promise,” Kirara chirped back. She hadn’t intended to bother the knights! They were busy, and she wasn’t worth their time. She was having trouble navigating their city and one wayward bard. “I’m just looking for someone, and I don’t think he’s here, is all.”
Kaeya raised his chin and looked her over carefully. “Did some young man stand you up? A pretty girl like yourself?” He clicked her tongue. “How disrespectful.”
Kirara didn’t get it. Maybe she was missing some sort of subcontext in human communication that she hadn’t had the opportunity to learn yet.
“I’m just trying to deliver this package…say!” She exclaimed, “do you know of a Venti?” Of anyone, maybe the knights were better informed about the location of their people.
The man’s eyebrows raised comically high, and he stifled a laugh. “Venti stood you up?”
“I don’t know what that means!” Kirara chuckled back. “I have a package for him.”
The invisible tension immediately vanished from the man’s shoulders, and he hunched down in laughter. Kirara wasn’t sure why any of that was supposedly funny, but she was glad to bring humor into this stranger’s day, even if she didn’t get it.
“Venti, really? A package? That’s a challenge. I’m not sure he stays still for longer than five minutes,” the man said, crossing his arms over his chest, a bit cheeky though also sincere, it seemed. Sort of.
“Got any guesses, then? He’s proving difficult to track down.”
She would take whatever tip she could find. The knights did probably know the best gossip, and Kirara would not, under any circumstance, let this Venti go without receiving his package; it was against her code of business.
“Maybe,” he said, winking. “Though I’m more interested in that package.”
“Customer’s matters are private, even to knights.”
“No need to snap, lovely miss. It’s just…it feels a bit…” his gaze was narrowed, steely and pinpointed onto the small package, as if it were the most important thing he’d ever seen. He shook his head and turned that blinding smile back on and aimed at her.
“It’s probably nothing,” he said. “Suspicion is just the weak man’s sword, you know. So about Venti…”
“I’ll take any hint you’ve got!”
“I don’t know everything about him, mind you, and he’s entirely unpredictable. Considering what I do know, I suppose I’d recommend you check…”
…
Angel’s Share
He’s the center of any party, you really can’t miss him.
By general tavern standards, this one seemed particularly nice from the outside.
Kirara…didn’t like alcohol. The smell got up in her nose, and it burned acrid. She supposed it wasn’t all bad, though, as getting drunk made people so unbelievably interesting, and she always did long for the surprising. It was within her realm of skill to expect the unexpected, and it often flourished in places that sold alcohol.
She could, without a doubt, handle searching for a bard in a tavern.
She threw open the door to the rowdy establishment, and let her eyes scrape across every corner and shadow. She had a brief moment of panic, wondering that if she were colorblind and couldn’t see green, what was she supposed to do then? Though Kaeya had also mentioned that Venti was loud, so maybe Kirara could count on that in the worst case scenario.
A red-headed man behind the bar was staring at her with open concern the longer she stood there, analyzing the clientele.
“Need something?” He eventually asked. It came across as a bit hostile, but to be fair, she had been standing in the doorway for an unusually extended amount of time.
“Nope!” She responded.
Now then, back to searching for green bards. Green, green, green, green…I wonder if my luck is just bad today. There was no shrine where she could check, so she just figured it must be bad and decided right then and there that she’d have to roll with it. No job waited for good luck to come around, anyway.
And then it struck her—perhaps this red-headed man’s luck was better than hers, in which case, he might be able to aid her in her quest, just like the other Mondstadt people had done, even though he was scowling so hard it looked like he wanted to gut her. They had all been helpful so far. Maybe he just wasn’t good at smiling.
“As it turns out,” she said, “I’ve just decided that I could use some help.”
The man set the glass he was polishing down and gestured she join him at the bar, so she did.
“Do you want a drink? Have any particular request?”
She shook her head and made a silly face. “I’m not looking for a drink, I’m looking for a person. I’ve run all over the city today, but no luck.”
His gaze was sharper now, but he seemed wholly uninterested in Kirara’s little quest, which was kind of nice. It meant she was doing a good job blending in, and she’d take any compliment, even if it could only be found in apathetic gestures and a sideways glance. It still counted as a compliment to her.
“I might be able to help,” he said. “It depends. You’ll need to give me more than ‘a person.’ Who are you looking for?”
“Do you know of a Venti?” She asked. She placed her small package on the table gesturing with both arms in a deliberate, excessive fashion. “Green, loud bard is what I was told to look for. My customer wasn’t nearly specific enough about where to find him, though.” A thought occurred to her, and she had to ask. “Do you know if he has a house?”
All of this had the man raising an eyebrow and smirking, his strict facade melting away. “I don’t think he does.” He squinted at the small brown package on the bar. “You’re trying to…deliver a package?”
“Yes!” She lamented, head falling to the table with a quiet thwack. This job really had become ever more precarious as the day dragged. “I can’t find him though. The sender put Favonius Cathedral as the address, and he obviously doesn't live there. I think your Deaconess might not like him very much.”
The bartender stiffened, and he tried to cover it up by grabbing a new glass to fiddle with, but Kirara’s keen senses didn’t miss it. He must agree about the Deaconess and Venti and not want to say so, she imagined.
“You said the package had The Cathedral as Venti’s address.”
“That’s what it says.” Technically it wasn't confidential information because it was clearly untrue.
“How peculiar,” he gritted out.
Kirara thought it was an odd response, but maybe he was just having a bad luck day, too and she had read him wrong.
“Right?” She agreed, tapping on the package. After all this, she had become even more curious about what was worth all the trouble. But it wasn't her business, and she could stay strong! Just for a little while longer.
The man fell into a relaxed position, leaning against the counter. “As it turns out, I actually know Venti very well. He doesn’t normally get packages, so this might be important.” His eyes spoke of sincerity. “You know, I’d be willing to deliver it for you.”
“No!” She exclaimed, taken aback, gripping her package so tight, her claws almost punctured the brown paper. “This is my mission, and I cannot let anyone else take on this responsibility. I am a courier, a respectable one, and that means seeing a package from start to finish.”
The man seemed hesitant, but he backed away anyway. “…Alright.” He scratched the back of his head. He avoided her gaze, looking to the floor in thought. “Do you really need to find him yourself?”
“Absolutely.”
He let out a passionate sigh. “If you’re that sure,” he said, crossing his arms in abject frustration. “Well, I don’t mean to send you on another wild goose chase, but if you’ve checked all across the city already and you’re that determined, I’d suggest going to…”
…
The Windrise Tree
Follow the music. He’s the only one that plays a lyre all the way out there. It is far…you sure you don’t want me to deal with it?
Despite the red-headed man’s insistence that she shouldn’t have to go out there to find one wayward bard and that he would be happy to handle the rest for her—he was oddly persistent on that front—Kirara declined any further assistance.
If Venti was likely at that big tree, then that’s where Kirara would go. Third time’s the charm, right?
And finally, it seemed her luck actually had given her a break. When she approached and was a mere couple steps from the tree, she heard the gentle ring of a lyre.
Kirara hadn’t needed to get very close to hear the music, and it was, without a doubt, music—a pure sort of song that seemed to create worlds in between the notes. If she had never heard music before, she might’ve thought it magic taking the form of sound, or a possessed lyre conjuring the essence of a traveler’s heart.
Kirara could relate to whatever he was playing, though she had no idea what the song was about nor had she ever before met the individual coaxing such notes from a common instrument. She didn’t need to see him to know he was smiling.
When Kirara made her way around the tree, she saw a figure nestled in the roots, one in mostly green. (She wasn't colorblind after all!) He had twin braids that danced in the wind, and he was perfectly serene there, sitting upon the roots of the tree like an old garden spirit balancing on the tip of a flower.
She didn’t want to bother him, but her schedule waited for no man, ethereal magic playing bard or otherwise, and he wasn’t the strangest person she’d come across in her travels, anyway. So she strutted forward on heavy steps. When the boy spotted her, he paused his playing, the last note ending on a delicate hum.
“Why, hello there!” He called. “I’ve never seen you around, before. Are you a traveler? From distant lands, perhaps?”
She grinned right back, though it hadn’t been on purpose.
“If you consider Inazuma distant.” Her sense of scale tended not to match with that of others.
“I definitely would! That’s very far away.” He began to pluck out a tune that she recognized as one she had heard many times in the streets of her home capital, one played on the advent of the blooming of the sakura trees. She almost asked where he’d heard it before—but it didn’t really matter. It was a beautiful rendition, and it was simply nice to be able to hear it, even all the way out here.
Bards were special existences that she didn’t meet as frequently as she would’ve liked to on the open road. She felt a need to savor this. Meeting the new was, after all, one of the best parts about traveling. There was no point in trying to make it happen the same way twice, nor in questioning how exactly it had come to be.
“Are you Venti?” She held up her package, hoping to make the message clear that she was here for this one simple thing. She wanted to interrupt him as little as possible.
“That I am,” he said, placing a hand on his chest in display.
Thank goodness. She mentally thanked all the people that had helped her thus far—but the red-headed man most of all. It had been him who had known. She would’ve had no chance at finding this place otherwise. Though this clearing wasn’t horribly out of the way, it did constitute an area of the nation that she hadn’t thought was populated or a common place to frolic.
“I have this for you,” she said, lifting the wrapped box to eye level.
“A package, eh? Who sent it?”
“They didn’t give a name.”
“Ooooh! A mysterious sender? Really? What a delightful happening.”
Kirara couldn’t help but smile right along with him. “Yeah! Even though you were really hard to find. I recommend investing in a mailbox. Or a house! Whoever sent it had to put the Cathedral as your address!”
She laughed, but he didn’t laugh.
In fact, for some reason, this had Venti shooting off the ground, anemo at his fingertips, which startled her, but not badly. He grabbed the box from her and inspected it curiously.
“What do you know, it does,” he said, the violet ink in shapely letters on the front, as they had been from the beginning. “That’s such a strange thing to do, considering I’m just a lowly bard.”
Kirara hadn’t thought it was all that strange until he specifically made a point of it being so. Now she was curious, but curiosity wasn’t going to get the rest of her packages delivered.
“But you’re definitely the correct recipient?”
“I imagine so! I don’t know any other Venti besides myself.”
“Great!” She said, giving a customer-friendly thumbs up. “Then, thanks for using Komaniya Express’ International service!”
“Thank you as well,” he said, strumming a quick, random chord to go with the words. “I have no idea what this is, but I’m glad it made its way to me, anyway.”
“Well, I’m thankful that you’re thankful,” Kirara said.
"Sorry I don't have anything to tip you with," he added, suddenly bashful. Then his eyes shot to the sky, and they went wide as dinner plates. “And look at that, it’s already midday, isn’t it!”
“Just about.”
Venti’s face went bug-eyed, and he sheepishly stared at the sun, as if he could coax it move in the opposite direction through willpower alone. “I promised someone I’d help them out right about now, so I really must be going. But!” He said, hopping off the tree roots, “if you come to Angel’s Share tonight, I’ll play any song you like.”
He patted dry leaves off his cape and straightened his lyre on a hook at his waist—near a vision, she noted.
That promise, surprising even Kirara herself, sounded like a really nice reward, but just because she could take on international deliveries on occasion didn’t mean her other duties were entirely waived.
She wasn’t meant to stay here. Kirara wasn’t meant to stay anywhere for long at all. So she said as much—even though his music truly was a beauty to listen to. If she could hear music like that whenever she wanted, she was unsure whether she’d never want to leave this place again or if she’d suddenly become inspired to take on a life of even more adventure.
It was a real toss-up, and better not to tempt it.
"I've got places to be, I'm afraid. Though I appreciate the invitation," she said.
Kirara waved a fond farewell. No package was any more special than the rest, though she knew that some of them had a stronger impact than others, sometimes good, sometimes bad. She hoped this was the good kind. She had done her part, but it had been a group effort, really.
She stretched her arms over her head, basked in the warmth of the sun for a moment—the sun gave good hugs no matter what nation she was in—and she carried onward, the bard and his package behind her.
________________________________________
The package was weird, but out of his mind in record time because he was late!
Venti had specifically promised to help Marjorie tune some old lyres she’d recently acquired from a foreign antiques dealer, and it was not at all polite to blow her off just because he’d forgotten. And he had indeed forgotten. Entirely.
He should’ve thanked that kind courier for reminding him of the time—even if indirectly. When he got it in his mind to play an old tune he hadn’t touched in a while, he had a bad habit of getting stuck in it, detangling what parts he remembered no matter what that entailed. It could take a while to wholly reconstruct a song he hadn’t played in a couple centuries. Unlike nice, spirit-girl couriers, Marjorie wouldn’t be willing to tramp all around Mondstadt looking for him.
As it was, he had to use a bit of a boost from elemental energy to get back to town in a somewhat timely fashion, letting his wind glider catch a breeze that had been entirely self-made and a bit stronger than strictly possible for a mortal. Not that anyone was paying that close of attention.
Marjorie was unsurprised when she saw him vaulting through the streets, hat clenched in his hand, hair so wind-strewn it must’ve been embarrassingly obvious what had happened. He decided to just go with it and pray to himself for clemency.
“You’re late,” she chided when landed, barely catching himself from face-planting into stone.
“I know, I know! Sorry about that. We still have time, though, right?”
She narrowed her gaze. “I’d hope so. You better be fast at this. I have an appointment with someone else later.”
“I’m the fastest there is, don’t worry.”
Tuning lyres was, perhaps, one of the least intimidating tasks that existed in all of Teyvat, as he had more experience than literally anyone. He didn’t know of a single other immortal that spent as much time on music as him, and it did give him an unfair advantage, even if he’d rather claim it was his own personal skill deserving of the credit.
He knew music very well, and tuning an instrument was merely reuniting it with music itself. He was good at getting these two things to see each other clearly, and that was it. That, and a lot of time spent working at it.
Marjorie led him into her backroom, a dark dusty place where she collected various wares that she either planned to sell in the front of the shop someday or that were simply waiting for the right customer. All sorts of artifacts and goblets and ancient scripts and monster parts lay in vaguely organized heaps. The lyres in question were all stacked together on the largest table, ready for tuning.
“I have a tuning key,” Marjorie remarked, handing him a wooden piece with a hole cut out on one end. “It’s not very fancy, but it fits on the pegs.”
“That works for me. I’ve used worse.” Venti was literally used to turning the pegs by hand and using anemo as a crutch—which had varying levels of success. He couldn’t keep a hold of a small object like a tuning key over a long period of time. He lost stuff too frequently to even try anymore.
He set the small package he was still toting around onto the table, exchanging it for the first of the vintage lyres, but before he could begin, Marjorie’s eyes landed on the small parcel.
“What’s that?” she asked.
“Hmm?” Venti plucked a string. Sour note. “Oh, I don’t know. I must have a secret admirer,” he said, gigging. The topic dropped as Marjorie rolled her eyes at him, and he continued the task.
He plucked at each lyre, one string at a time, twisting them to just the right frequency as he went through the stack. There was a somewhat uncomfortable, crazed monotony in going down the table and doing them all one right after the other, but he really enjoyed that final moment when he could strum each and hear its unique sound. Lyres had fingerprints, a unique quality just like the shape of a snowflake, and they just needed a bit of attention to show off their one-of-a-kind qualities.
Marjorie didn’t seem as enamored with the discovery of each lyre’s personality as him, but she was obviously enjoying how much he was enjoying it, contently sitting off to the side and working on her ledgers.
When Venti was just about done with the last, Marjorie went digging in her drawers. “How did you want to be compensated for this, exactly?”
“Hey,” Venti said, “I’ve already said I’d do it for free. Making the lyres easier to sell is enough. By doing this, more people may have the opportunity to experience music, and that’s what matters.”
She looked at him blankly, as if she didn’t care in the slightest for his crusade for the sake of music! (Though Venti supposed he might’ve laid it on a bit too thick to sound serious. He was being serious, though.)
“That’s good and all, but I can’t give you nothing. It’s against my morals. I may be a penny pincher, but good work deserves equal payment.”
Venti tapped a finger on his chin. “I suppose…I could keep one of the lyres?”
“That’s a start. What else?”
What else? Really? That was more than enough! They would clearly fetch a high price for any collector, and they were a good enough quality to sell as normal lyres, too, depending on how Marjorie wanted to advertise them. He was fairly sure she had gotten them for free, so no matter what price tag she put on them, she’d made money, which meant she shouldn’t be trying to give him one just for making this already profitable product slightly better.
“I wanted to help,” he said, “no strings attached.” He made his best pouting face before brightening with a sly smirk. “Well, I suppose you could cover my tab at Angel’s Share!”
She raised an eyebrow at that. “Don’t push it, bard. I said equal. And I can tell you’re avoiding the point.”
“There’s just not a lot I want.”
It wasn’t entirely untrue. Besides, he didn’t think it was fair to put a price on helping spread music in any of its forms to others. Sure, normally he’d accept compensation for any job he did considering how broke he was on an average day, but this was a different situation. It felt a little wrong. He had almost missed their agreed upon time slot for doing this, too!
“I’ll just pay you in mora then,” Marjorie huffed. She turned her back to him so that all he could hear as the chink of coins landing in a pouch before she tied a string atop it tightly. “No peeking,” she said. “I won’t have you tell me how much this service is worth. Trust my professionalism.”
Aw. Venti had been planning to count them in front of her and try to change her mind that way. He accepted what was offered. Not entirely by choice.
At least he could tip any couriers he met in the near future. Though he should probably give it to Diluc. Celestia knows they hardly knew how to handle each other these days.
Marjorie pushed him out of her shop, one lyre and a mora pouch heavier, before he could try refuting her decisions any more than he already had.
…
The next step was, obviously, deciding who in Mondstadt should be treated to a free lyre.
Which is why when Venti spotted Kaeya lurking around the back alleys near Marjorie's shop, he didn’t hesitate to shout a greeting. It was fate, had to be! That’s what he’d tell himself at least while he decided how to go about doing this.
Venti did believe that having a plan for this operation would be for the best, but he was nothing if not an improvisational master; and if the world was going to put Kaeya right in front of him, he’d take the hint.
It seemed too good an opportunity to pass up.
“Bard,” Kaeya said in response. He was looking chipper this evening. “I assumed you were already at the tavern. Apparently not. We can head there together, if you'd like.”
“Nah, not tonight.” Venti threw the pouch of mora, and Kaeya snatched it out of the air easily enough. “Though if you could give that to Diluc on my behalf, that’d be great.”
Kaeya shook the pouch, disbelieving even as the chink of coins sounded from where he stood. “Since when do you have spare mora?” He asked, teasing. “Did you steal it?”
“I’m an upstanding citizen, I’ll have you know," he boasted. "I helped Marjorie out with a little something, and she wouldn’t let me say no.”
Kaeya gave an unimpressed reaction. “I’m more surprised that you would try to say no in the first place.”
“It’s not like it’s hard.”
He scanned Venti with a discerning look and shrugged his shoulders. “If you say so. And I see that courier girl found you," he said, gesturing to the package. "That’s good…though I can’t help but be curious—who’s sending you things, exactly?”
Venti scrunched his nose curiously. “How did you know a courier was looking for me?” It was a sudden change of topic, meaning Kaeya actually wanted to know. All the more reason not to tell him! Just for the fun of it.
“I ran into her, of course," Kaeya explained. "Gave her directions. She seemed awfully lost.”
Oh, now that was a convenient good deed for Kaeya to have done. Very convenient, indeed.
He had a good idea—one that Kaeya was not going to like at all. Which is exactly why it was such a good idea.
Venti smiled slyly. “Did you, now? Well, seeing as I’m in the mood to repay debts, I must do the same for you!” He grabbed the second lyre, the one Marjorie had foisted upon him and lifted it high and then panned it down slowly as if it were sacred.
“I don’t play,” Kaeya remarked, deadpan.
“Not yet, you don’t!”
“Venti. No.” He said it casually, but there was nothing but tiredness behind those eyes. Oh, how mischief made the heart sing!
“Then I insist you learn, seeing as you now own a lyre. They sure can be expensive, but there’s no reason not to learn anymore! Since the only reason you haven’t yet must’ve been because of the price.” Venti patted him on the back, nodding as he did so. It wasn’t polite to leave gifts to gather dust—everyone knew that—and they also knew just how persistent Venti could be when it came to music.
“That’s…Venti, please, this is entirely unnecessary. I have my hands full with my responsibilities to the knights.”
Venti wasn’t buying that for a second.
“But you helped that poor girl find me, even though I’m a horribly difficult person to track down. It’s only right that I offer you something in return.” He pushed the lyre all the way into Kaeya’s hands. Kaeya, for his part, was either entirely resigned to the entire thing or in the middle of some nefarious plotting, as he didn’t even try giving it back. Venti didn’t really care either way.
Everything Marjorie had forced upon him had become Kaeya’s responsibility, and that felt a lot better. Venti couldn’t help but giggle at the image of his friend, teeth clenched and wearing a fake smile, saddled with money that wasn’t his and a lyre he definitely didn’t want.
“It was nice running into you,” Venti said. “Really nice.” It was nicer for Venti than Kaeya, in any case. “When you get good enough at playing it, let me know, and we can perform a duet!”
This would result in something funny, he was sure of it.
Kaeya finally came back to full awareness, eye widened. “Wait right there you damn bard,” he hissed.
And Venti? He did no such thing.
…
Once he was solidly out of sight, hopping through the streets in delight, he slowed down and looked up at the sky, finally catching a moment of calm.
It had become late evening during the time he’d spent wandering about, and most shops were closed for the day. The tavern wasn’t of course, but he really didn’t want to be there when Kaeya tried to give Diluc money on Venti’s behalf.
His initial plan had been to go to the tavern himself to do it, but he didn’t want to fight Diluc on whether the man needed to accept his money or not. It had gotten exceptionally awkward being the Archon of his favorite tavern owner. As it was, neither Venti nor Diluc knew how to deal with the other. Oh well, he figured it’d all right itself with time, especially when Kaeya was there to play the unknowing intermediary.
For now, Venti would do this for the both of them and avoid Angel’s Share tonight while Kaeya took care of the whole thing, entirely oblivious about the underlying tension. Or…maybe he wasn’t entirely oblivious, but he was at least uncaring about it. Which was good enough!
As he considered starting up a nighttime serenade for the moon, he remembered with renewed clarity--the package! He had been carrying around for the better half of a day and had yet to open it. So Venti immediately plopped onto the ground, pressing his back against the fountain, package in hand.
“How could I forget about you?” He said, holding the little thing up to the moonlight.
It was about time he figured out who had bothered shipping something to him—and he was horrendously curious. It had been sent to the Cathedral. That wasn’t as inconspicuous of a choice as most would assume.
Not many knew he was still around in Mondstadt, and even fewer knew to call him ‘Venti.’ Another Archon, perhaps? He wasn’t exactly on speaking terms with the lot of them, though—not because he was unfriendly, but mostly because they were territorial. (They could use an overdose of freedom once in a while.) So, the signs pointed to probably-not-an-Archon, but that wasn’t a very helpful limit.
Out of all the mortals and immortals in Teyvat, he had only crossed six of them off his list. Yay. And really, this could’ve been Zhongli being his usual oblivious self and uninterested in traveling a short distance. Venti could see that happening. So he could cross out five and…a half. And that was still amusingly unhelpful.
He hoped the item itself would be forthcoming.
The tied twine and brown paper came off easily enough, stripped away to reveal a wooden box tinted a deep violet color. He couldn’t place anywhere that had purple wood, so he deemed the clue irrelevant. It must’ve been dyed that way.
The box had a metal clasp that was easily clicked open, and so Venti went for it. Boxes weren’t nearly as interesting as what was inside them. Though when he lifted the lid, he was treated to nothing but confusion, as he couldn’t see anything in the box. Just black. He was about to tilt it when the black interior shifted by itself, like a living block of nothingness.
That’s a peculiar effect. What was—
As Venti sat crouched alone by the fountain, holding what appeared to be a small wooden box with nothing in it, the darkness came pouring forth—waves and rivulets of shadow matter. It flowed onto his arms and then around them, wrapping itself around him like a snake, a living tattoo, and Venti’s breath caught, a voiceless gasp jumping from his throat.
He jumped off the ground and shook his arms frantically, dropping the box as he did so, and it went clattering across the cobblestone. The shadows, however, they stayed put right where they were, elongating so that they could hold on tight, still uncontrollably gushing from the box, though going no further than a small radius from the epicenter, rising upward as if gravity was a negligible fact.
Venti began to act. Anemo gathered at his fingers as he spun it, whirlwinds working to throw the darkness off of him, to push it back in any way, but it stayed glued tight as if completely unaffected, no matter how fast he spun the wind. And he spun it fast, a veritable storm speed, thrashing and chaotic, almost too much so. It wasn’t working, so he just pushed the winds harder.
The shadows anchored him in place, their touch like the weight of iron.
His control shook just a fraction as a black inky curtain crowded out the stars, rising higher and higher, and the coiled wind raging against an invisible enemy brushed against his own fingertips. He hadn’t moved them out of the way in time—and the wind was fast enough to draw blood. And it did. Though that didn’t stop Venti from lashing out at it with even fiercer attempts to destabilize the darkness.
The red mixed with black, and the shadows seeped into every self-inflicted cut, a parasite seeking the heart.
Venti collapsed, vaulting forward onto his hands, stones digging deep imprints into his palms. He suddenly felt…fuzzy. A dangerous kind of calm. And he might've heard a voice that could be Kaeya…but that didn't make sense. Venti had sent Kaeya to Angel’s Share…right?
The sensation had changed into something like floating, but specifically the way that floating felt before he had stuffed himself into a human-ish body, the way floating felt eons ago. The darkness was everywhere now. He realized, with only the vaguest dregs of awareness, that he hadn’t made any progress on cutting it away, though he would keep trying no matter what, as he was not helpless regardless of what anyone thought, even as the floating developed into a full-blown lack of sensation, numbness spreading like wildfire. But he could handle that just like he could handle anything because he wasn’t so weak that he couldn’t make it out of this strange situation alone, even if he had lost his gnosis. It wasn't that bad—
And he blacked out.