Arlecchino still sees Clervie in Furina. Pink dresses, Lumidouce Bells, delicious cakes that are not her favorite... Almost as if she was trying to recreate something that no longer exists.
// Written in English, 2,1k.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
This is not really Halloween related but i kinda see them to have this .. Halloween aesthetic by default or soemthing. They look like the heart of the Halloween not even trying
small drabble about how arlecchino and signora were both flames in different forms. very similar but contrasting each other at the same time—both were horribly wounded but would never be able to understand each other. which is why, they were never meant to be; for flame meeting flame can only result in an explosion.
but arlecchino is a stubborn fire that burns persistently with no regard for being seen or not.
Months passed and the ruthless winter of Snezhnaya began to calm down. Arlecchino stood on the same dock where she had last seen La Signora, preparing to go back to Fontaine for the Tsaritsa's next plan.
The sea stretched out before her, endless and unyielding, its vast unknowns laying beyond. She closed her eyes, letting the wind whip through her hair, and whispered silently, “Did you know, Rosalyne?”
“Last time, Lyney and the children asked me about you. About how we met.
So I told them about the first time I saw you, standing tall and proud in the dim light of the palace, and how I immediately disliked you.”
A soft chuckle left Arlecchino's lips, the sound almost lost in the wind.
“Your cold stare that seemed to pierce through anyone who dared to look your way—I told them about how it used to remind me of my ‘mother,’ the nightmare I had just barely escaped from, and how I tried my best to not get involved with you.”
She paused, the waves crashing softly against the dock, carrying a gentle breeze to her face.
“But I also told them about how I began to see past that façade, how I discovered the flames concealed within your soul, your resilience, your warmth—and how everything about you simply contradicted the image of my mother, to the point that I felt ashamed for ever associating you with such a person.”
“I told them everything I knew about you. Your past, your pain, your trauma, and how you, despite it all, still managed to stand tall in front of the harshest winters.”
Arlecchino threw her gaze far to the distant sea. She gripped onto her coat, feeling the cold permeating through her veins.
“But I didn't tell them about how I fell for you,” she said, smiling bitterly. “Perhaps because I was a coward. Because I was afraid to speak of the depths of love I'm holding for you. Because no matter how loud I shout, this love would eventually sink down to the pits of the ocean—forever unable to reach you.”
Arlecchino stared down, her fingertips beginning to numb slightly from the chill. But she continued, her voice steady.
“But they missed you, Rosalyne. We all do.”
“I wish I could see you again for one last time, to finish the sentence I had never started. I wish I had lived a bit more greedily while you were still here with me,” she hushed. “But what use is there in wishing now? You are gone, and I am left with this hollow ache.”
The sky above was painted with the colors of dusk, the day slowly surrendering to the night. Arlecchino sighed, hoping to breathe out the suffocating feeling in her chest.
“I will carry on, as you did, with the strength you showed me. But if you allow me to be a little bit selfish, Rosalyne, I don't want to forget you. I will never forget you.”
Arlecchino stood there for a moment longer, the wind tugging at her coat as the memories flooded back to her mind.
Then, with one last look at the dock, the ship sailed, and Arlecchino never looked back again.
Rest now, my beloved.
You are free from the pain of this world, but you will live on in my heart, for as long as I draw breath.
Farewell, Rosalyne.
Until the day we meet again.
***
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
“Didn't they betray you? Why do you still love them?”
—about the Anemo Archon's love for his children, the people of Mondstadt.
Mondstadt has always been a peaceful place. For children just beginning to learn their alphabets, teenagers finding joy in the smallest things, young adults searching for the meaning of life, and weary souls who have weathered too many storms—be it locals, travelers, wandering merchants, or even the animals and creatures... The carefree breezes, carrying the scent of dandelions, will always find their way through your hair, breathing life and hope into you, wherever you go.
It is said that the gentle wind, the safe haven, and the freedom that seeps into the waters beneath the land were all gifts from the God of Freedom himself. Some call it a blessing—a manifestation of the love and affection that the Anemo Archon holds for his children.
He may not be the God of Love, as it is a title reserved for the Snezhnayan goddess, but his love for his children is enviable, and it is reflected in the way the people of Mondstadt reciprocated his love. Some say that the people's faith in their archons is the main source of their power—which then would mean that the Anemo Archon is exceptionally strong, given how much his people love and trust him. Not a single person in Mondstadt is irreligious, the popular phrase ‘may the Anemo Archon protect you’ that every Mondstadtian would sneak in every conversation and the grand statue specially sculpted for him in front of the Favonius Cathedral were clear giveaways to it.
Why?
Lord Barbatos' name was never associated with grand titles. In fact, little was known about him—especially to the outsiders—aside from being an absent archon ruling the City of Wine and Freedom. What were his goals? His ideals? How did he secure a seat among The Seven? Was he immensely powerful, like the Electro Archon who could cleave an entire island with a single strike? Or was he as influential as the renowned Rex Lapis during the Archon War?
No one ever truly knows.
Then why? A certain Traveler once pondered to themself.
What is so special about him, that his people's faith never shakes, even without his presence for such a long time?
The Anemo Archon was never one to talk about himself, nor would he answer if the Traveler ever asked. So, no matter how curious they were, these questions could only linger unanswered in their mind as they wandered through the nations.
At least, that was the case, until they found the answer on a random sunny afternoon.
“Didn't they betray your trust in the past? Why do you still love them, even after all the horrible things they did?”
The Traveler asked Venti as they sat beneath the great Windrise tree, watching the skies of Mondstadt gradually turn orange.
Venti simply smiled. A gentle breeze wove through the strands of his dark, aqua-tipped hair, as the warm sunlight cascaded over his skin. It was a sensitive question to anyone hearing, but there was no sign of displeasure on his face. Just like the wind, he was always calm, carefree and serene. Not a single person had ever seen the playfulness leaving his eyes, never, except in the presence of those who posed threat to his children.
“My dear Traveler,” Venti purred, his voice akin to the sounds of birds singing in the woods. “Children are bound to make mistakes. Stumbling across a rock, tripping over their feet, scraping their skin... It's all part of growing, isn't it?”
“It would be too cruel to deny them, mere humans who struggle to find their paths yet still find joy in the smallest things, the chance to learn and grow from their mistakes.”
There was a comforting silence as Venti's hand reached for a fallen leaf on the ground, turning it gently in his fingers. The leaf was vibrant green, still holding onto the life it once had when it was part of the tree.
“Look at this leaf,” he said, his voice gentle and thoughtful. “It once clung tightly to the branch, part of something greater. But now, it has fallen, carried by the wind to new places.”
He held the leaf up to the light, its delicate veins illuminated by the setting sun. “Just like this leaf, my children sometimes fall and drift away. They may lose their way, make mistakes, and face hardships. But even as they fall, they are never truly lost,” Venti said, a twinkle in his eyes. “Because the wind will be there to support the leaf, just like how I support my children. I lift them up and help them find their path again.”
He then released the leaf, watching as it floated away on the breeze. “Every leaf, every child, has its own story, its own purpose. And just as the wind carries the leaf to new places, so too does my love carry my children, helping them to grow and flourish, no matter where they land.”
The wind felt exceptionally warm that day, as they watched the leaf drift away, fading into the twilight.
Somehow, the Traveler understood the reason why the Anemo Archon was so loved.
After all, those titles were never necessary.
Venti may be absent, and most, if not all, of his children have never seen him in person, but no one ever doubts his presence. They feel his love in every whisper of the wind, every rustle of the leaves, and every joyful song sung by the bards. He is there, always watching over them, lending his hand to those in need of his blessing, while allowing them to find the meaning of life on their own.
Just like the wind, ever-present and unchanging.
“For in the heart of every gentle breeze lies the boundless love of a guardian watching over his children, guiding them toward their own destinies.”
***
in honor of venti's birthday. may (or may not) upload a longer version on ao3, work is still in progress.