@a-venti-sized-problem asked:
-Plays lyre off in the distance- OuO -sneaks closer- -Plays lyre a bit LOUDER- -Closer still- -Plays ly-
"Is that...really necessary?" He looks up from his current sketch, a single brow raised.
a-venti-sized-problem:
Peeking over Albedo’s shoulder at the incredibly lifelike sketch of a quaint little abode, Venti felt a slight twisting in his gut, a pang in his chest as he recognized the architecture of the building, more so, where it hailed from.
“Eh heh, you used to live in a place like that?”
Eyes shifted to peer at Albedo from the corner of his eye as the impossibility of such a case bled into his thoughts. At least, while working under the popular assumption regarding the alchemist. However, if the secondary option was considered more closely…..
Things may have just gotten far more interesting.
“Its so cute!”
Venti exclaimed, doing what he did best and cutting out any sound of thought from his tone as he gave the sketch another look-over with a note of amusement.
“I can practically see a little Albedo running around, examining the hedges for their secrets~”
“I did,” he hums, looking over the home in question and recalling many different memories that were both born and grown within its walls. All things considered, he had thoroughly enjoyed his time at Rhinedottir’s side. Or rather...he enjoyed having such companionship on his travels. Being taught the art of alchemy and all that it entailed. Glancing at a wide, expansive scene in front of him and being told the innermost secrets of its creation. From what he could remember, it was a quaint life. Although, if anyone asked, he would likely admit that living in the same home as Alice and Klee was-- greatly preferred.
Laughing gently at the bard’s sincerity and humbleness when recounting a little Albedo, he feels a familiar twinge of both confusion and somberness. Yes...that was the normal life journey for humans...wasn’t it? Starting out so small, so new to the world, and growing alongside your body. Discovering the world’s secrets alongside that of your own.
Inhaling deeply as his sketching slows, he replies flatly, “Unfortunately, I can’t recall any memories like that.”
A quick shift away from the topic at hand as he adds, “But...I do remember the breeze that would blow every now and again. So gentle in its nature, yet so capable of pushing in storms that were unlike anything I’d ever seen in Monstadt.”
With a nostalgic sigh, he chuckles gently and carries on with, “The home, in particular, isn’t terribly missed, if I’m honest. We spent so little time there, after all, but...every now and again I’m struck with a flash of memory that I just can’t seem to grasp. And, thus, I thought sketching out what I could remember would assist but alas...it’s nothing more than another sketch.”
