THE BARD ALMOST LAUGHED AT THE DUMBFOUNDED LOOK ON THE ELF, OR RATHER ARCHON’S FACE. if he were the one surprised, would he have the same expression ? of course it would, they were quite literally twins now. every show of emotion would be the same, every action, a mimic. but … there would be one thing that would differ between the two : the reasoning behind the smiles, the tears and laughter. that would always be different. he briefly wondered, a very small part of him did, if his friend was expressing more, due to have the means to. as an elf, a little wind spirit, he was without a mouth to smile, and even a voice.
… but his actions, body movements showed his joy. and the sorrow he saw through his glazed eyes back then.
quickly ushering such thoughts aside, the boy waited for reality to process in the elf, barbatos, venti’s mind. watched as a hand shakily reached towards his face and when touched, he would turn his head towards it, pressing his cheek ever so slightly as to not startle his friend. ❝ am i not real ? i feel quite solid. my feet touch the ground, i am able to feel your touch. does it still mean i am not real, my friend ? ❞ his voice was soft, almost as quiet as a whisper but firm.
❝ you ask a very good question that i strangely do not have answers to. all i am able to say, what i am certain of, is that i have always been with you. watching, listening to your songs through the wind. ❞ was it he who became a spirit after that battle ? was it his turn to be a wind spirit, unable to talk and only watch ? but it seems as though the world has given him this chance, a physical body to inhabit. to speak to his friend.
at the sight of tears, droplets that trailed down barbatos’ face, the bard reached out his own hands, fingers catching each and every drop that he could. ❝ there are no need for tears, my friend. at least for me. a smile is what i wish to see from you. for this is a joyous event, our reunion. so, for me, could you smile ? ❞
his hands would cup barbatos’ face, thumbs rubbing gently against his cheeks before drifting lower, to hold the braids, from dark hair to vivid greens. the differences between the two, whereas his eyes were steel-touched, the archon’s were wind-kissed. yes, his friend had a liking for the brightest of greens and blues. ❝ this nation truly is a wonderful place, where the wind is not contained, where people are free. ❞ it was his turn to give a smile. ❝ you have done so well … my little wind spirit. ❞
It was true that, once upon a time, the archon had had no mouth. No voice with which to speak. T'was true that, such limitations, had led to an overabundance of expression - a desire as intense as any other to show all that was held in his heart. That which he could only dream before, but could now make a reality. And yet… here, now, would another's reaction be all that different? Would just anyone gaze upon one who was loved, that was long thought to be dead - gone, never to return - and feel any less than he at this very moment?
I saw you fall, I saw you die. I still remember the first time I gazed upon my reflection in the waters surface and only saw you. The once small elf breaking down as loss crashed into him akin to a thundering wave for the first time in his short life.
A firm voice met his frayed inquiries ( the soft cadence he'd missed so, so much. ) Am I not real? He felt real, he sounded real. The friends of his past, the illusory torments that haunted the archon in his lowest of moments, never had they felt so warm beneath his fingertips. Never had they stayed, nor touched him in turn - gentle thumbs brushing aside the flood of tears that marred his face. Cleansing the battered heart that beat within aching chest, and only asking for a smile in return. He could continue to question reality all he wished, but what was there to doubt when faced with such irrefutable truth? Such soothing kindness?
T'was not only a smile that his friend was given, but a laugh. A watery thing, from he whose eyes shimmered with tears and unshed. " It's just like you to be the calm one while I'm crying my eyes out. " Even as a wisp, he had been an excitable creature. A breath of wind ever asway with the breeze, with emotion. Windchime laughter, and low mournful hums. All for a friend, the sole one who could temper it in turn. ( Things had been innocent, back then. Yet some things never changed. ) " You're right, you're right. Of course you are. " Though a tease, there was a note of fondness there. Ringing warm and true.
The hands that held windkissed braids were laid over with the archon's own, a fact he still had trouble believing. That he was here, real, speaking to him. ( My little wind spirit. ) Such words, such praise, it urged his smile wider. Sheepish, but proud. Honored that the one who had inspired it all could look upon their home and feel joy for what he saw… " Your wish, it was mine as well. For the land to be free - for the winds to guide, not dictate… For you, I did all that I could to make it come true. "
Ginger was the hand that rose to wipe at wet eyes, to brush with a sleeve and dry that which had begun to blur his vision. ( For a moment, a trickling of fear plucked at his heartstrings. Whispering that he'd vanish the second he opened his eyes. Even if he doubted it, even if he knew it to not be true, still was there relief to see that he was still there - that not a single thing had changed. ) " There's so much I wanted to say to you, but now that you're here I have no idea where to begin. "
