seeds of stories, brought by the wind

...and cultivated by time.

[wind-blumes]

wind-blumes; selective & indie roleplay blog for venti of genshin impact, composed by sep 🐟.

dossier // about // ask

notes under the cut:

as this blog was once affiliated with gnostic hymns, I will prioritize mutuals and others that were associated with the group, but I’m open to meeting new people :D feel free to say hi!

all of venti's relationships, canon or no, will be strictly platonic. I am not open to any shipping at this time.

I've made the executive decision to tone down venti's alcoholism, so although he'll happily accompany others to bars and such to have a drink or two, I will not write him drunk.

please be nice, respectful, etc or else I shall block

I also write xiao over at @vigilantyxksha!

will update as needed - last edit 3/7/26

[wind-blumes]

WHAT ENTERS THE ROOM BEFORE YOU DO?

( Venti, )

THE ENERGY

you arrive like warmth does, without asking permission. Before you speak, before you settle into a chair, something in the room softens. Conversations loosen their shoulders. Silences stop feeling accusatory. People don’t always know why they feel safer around you; they just do. Your presence is porous. You feel atmospheres the way skin feels temperature. Joy clings to you easily. So does unease. You often carry emotions that were never formally handed to you - just left in the air, assumed you’d hold them. Still, there is something grounding about you. You remind people that gentleness isn’t weakness, that openness can be steady. Colours: Honey, warm amber, sunlit linen Scene: Sitting cross-legged on the floor while others talk around you, quietly anchoring the room just by being there.

tagged by: @iustitians tagging: you!

[choivenant]

you went clubbing w god wdyd

[choivenant]

Ah~ what a productive day! Out of an abundance of caution, Dahlia had been avoiding the area outside the Cathedral, but there was never a completely still moment in the city. After various favors run, slimes dispatched again, and another lost cat (he's starting to believe that perhaps the cats are less lost than anyone would like to admit), the sun had begun to set. And that meant, of course, it was time for another favored pastime of the nosy youth!

Dahlia swings the door of the tavern open, finding his expression light up at the familiar sights and sounds. The regular patrons have already long since arrived and taken their seats, gathered into their ever fluid groups of friends for the night. Despite being relatively new to the scene, he knows he can take his pick and slip in easily- becoming part of the conversation as anyone else.

But… not everyone finds their solace in the lights and life of others, and so held true for a green-clad bard at his own table, surrounded by empty bottles, presumably of his own make. Curious, Dahlia slides in easily beside him, calling out to the bartender,

"Barkeep! Two ciders, if you would!" A hum, gauging the other's appearance. "I trust I am not interrupting something, good sir? I think cider is always best enjoyed in company."

@wind-blumes

[wind-blumes]

“Haven’t you had enough yet?” Charles asked, regaling the empty bottles strewn across the table with a disapproving stare. “Or were you planning to drink through our entire stock?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t do anything of the sort!” Venti pouted. “I couldn’t possibly take your whole stock for myself! Nay, I declare that this drink should be shared with every citizen of Mond—even Lord Barbatos himself!”

“I hope you have the Mora to back that up,” Charles replied, and left.

Honestly, Venti thought, he hadn’t drunk that much. Gratuitously ignoring how things had started to get a bit fuzzy on the edges, there was still definitely one Charles frowning at him from across the bar. And he wasn’t exaggerating; the wine really did taste much more pleasant than normal—most definitely due to this season’s exceptional harvest—and he intended to savor it as much as he possibly could. Of course, the Mora’s worth of the sheer amount he’d drunk so far would probably catch up to him soon, but… eh, that was future Venti’s problem! 

Besides, this display of wine bottles made a fun impromptu instrument! If the air blew over the top of them just so, they played a lovely tune, though it was lost in the din of the crowded tavern. Perhaps he should compose an ode to this wonderful drink… but maybe after another sip, lest he forget its taste.

As he reached for another bottle to refill his cup, someone slid into the seat next to him. Curiously, Venti turned to look at the new arrival. Peach-hued hair and a boyish face… was this the young man that had been running errands all over the city recently? Well, if supplying free cider was yet another errand of his, Venti certainly wouldn’t complain.

“Not at all—and I wholeheartedly agree! In fact,” he said, raising one of the tankards that Charles had rather reluctantly placed on the table and turning to the other, “I propose a toast to your pure-hearted generosity!”

[wind-blumes]

𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐬 & 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬.

what does your muse smell like ? ⸻ cecilias, apples, and, if you catch him in the evening, dandelion wine. where’s the apple smell coming from, you ask? he’d squirreled one away and hid it on his person.

what do your muse’s hands feel like ? ⸻ cool and soft, like a light breeze on a warm day.

what does your muse usually eat in a day ? ⸻ venti doesn’t need to eat, per se, but he enjoys apples—baked, juiced, candied, or whole. there are plenty of apple trees surrounding mondstadt to pick from, but if he’s offered any inside the city, he won’t refuse. 

does your muse have a good singing voice ? ⸻ yes. he learned from the best.

does your muse have any bad habits or nervous tics ? ⸻ venti has to watch himself at the tavern because the alcohol doesn’t affect him as much as it does to the typical human being. if he’s not careful, he could drink through diluc’s entire stock. (call it an offering to the anemo archon!)

what does your muse usually look like / wear ? ⸻ as a wind spirit-turned-archon, venti is free to choose how he looks, theoretically, but he has looked the same for thousands of years, lest he forget his face.

is your muse affectionate? how much ? how so ? ⸻yes! venti holds a love in his heart for humanity—especially mondstadt and its people. just like the wind, he’s a very touchy person by nature: grabbing hands and shoulders, patting heads, hugging from behind. he’s also quite observant and will quietly give helpful nudges or pull favors for anyone that needs it.

what position does your muse sleep in ? ⸻ venti could fall asleep just about anywhere, but if it was up to him, he’d sleep nestled in the roots of the tree at windrise or in the hands of the barbatos statue—two places where he feels the safest, cradled by his old friends.

could you hear your muse in the hallway from another room ? ⸻ of course, if he’s trying to be heard. but ordinarily, his steps are quiet and soft, and all of the bits and bobs dangling from his clothes that you’d expect to be clinking around hang suspended in the air—it’s as though he’s gliding rather than walking.

tagged by: @phantomiaou, @iustitians tagging: you!

[wind-blumes]

[KARAOKE]

"When's the last time we've sung together?" A rhetorical question serves as an invitation as the two of them pass by the stage, currently occupied with an enthusiastic opera fan singing her heart out to what Dahlia could only assume was her favorite song- despite not quite having the range for it.

The edges of a smile play in his voice, clear eyes watching the performer make up for what she lacked in skill with passion, the birthplace of the most breathtaking of arts.

"How about a duet or two? We can line up there!"

Without truly waiting for an answer, the deacon swiftly maneuvers the bard to join the queue- with how quickly each song goes by, he thinks they'll spend ten minutes at most waiting.

"Surely you've already got something fun in mind~?"

“What an honor! This humble bard, being invited to sing by Mondstadt’s very own cantor of the church choir!” 

Venti grinned and followed Dahlia to the queue snaking around the stage. The current singer was quite impressive—with a bit of training, maybe she could even start a professional career. “How could I ever decline? Ah, but you’ve left the song choice to me? I’ll have to pick out something good! They might throw us off the stage if we do our usual rendition of '99 Bottles of Wine', ehe...”

There were countless songs to choose from, of course, but the main factor was how much he wanted to throw Dahlia under the bus.

"Hm... actually, I've got a song in mind! How good is your Liyuean?"

[wind-blumes]

STARGAZING

The beauty of festivals could never be undersold. I’ve seen many pass, often bittersweetly as their participants have yet to realize that I, the harbinger of their demise, had already set the gears of the destruction of their happiness into motion. Some others, put together with the small hands of my siblings and my own weak claws, spelled out disaster on purpose. Celebrating my own presence was the same as celebrating a new start to Sa’s samsara.

Now, though, I’m free from all that suffering. Free to save everyone I wish to, free to enjoy myself. Free as a bird, free as a gust of wind, free as a flame laying waste to a bone-dry forest, free as the greenery that sprouts up afterwards, free as a spore, free as the stars. 

I look up at them now, foreign stars, familiar stars, all shining their light down on me. One of them isn’t a star, but rather my beloved ship, my dearest friend. I can’t quite tell which one, and I don’t feel like looking closely enough to bother. I give the sky an absentminded wave as I settle down on one of the blankets laid on the lookout. I’m not quite sure if they’re set out to let the weary traveler observe the bright orange lights of the moon city below me, or to let the amateur astronomer enjoy the beauty of the asterisms above. Painfully, the stars continue to call me, never can I feel comfortable in one place for long.

I project my silent thoughts outwards, a little lament to rest in the minds of the festival-goers. Perhaps someday, the mayflies will take my song and hold it in their hearts, not knowing where the thought came from. It’s an embarrassing habit I have, leaving too much of myself behind. Even so, I cry. It’s a plea to the stars, whose gazes scorn me, yet whose beauty calls the star voyager forevermore. A wordless, emotionless sound, but I can barely hide my smile.

I return to silence as I feel a presence nearby. I let my smile escape fully, pointing up at the constellation I’m quickest to find. “The Greater Bear,” I say, half mumbling. My vocal chords are worn out from the chill. “As opposed to the Lesser Bear. On Earth, this is a useful constellation to know, for it contains an asterism that points to its pole star.” I move my finger southwestward. “The Dragon. Where my people are from, we didn’t have a pole star, but it would be somewhere here.” I sweep my hair over my shoulder, turning away from the endless sky and towards this person. “Which way is north here?”

Sprawled on a blanket laid over the grass, Venti watched the lanterns drift into the night sky. A thousand wishes, drifting towards the heavens, lighting the way to the future. How poetic, he thought with a smile. Sure, he had celebrated many Lantern Rites in the past, but the sight never grew old. Softly, he began to hum: a traditional Liyuen melody that had begun to resurface in recent years...

...Then grew quiet, as he heard another. Someone was singing an unfamiliar song; strangely, rather than being carried on the evening breeze, it reverberated in his head—

Rather abruptly, he stood up and picked his way around the people clustered on the mountain top. Inherently, there was no danger in the action of projecting thoughts—especially since he knew a certain someone that often did the same—and of course, Liyue was not his domain, but the act of doing it so openly piqued his curiosity. Now, where to find the source… It would be harder, without the wind to guide him, but Venti would take the challenge.

Luckily, the search didn’t take long. Among the outskirts of the gathering was a lone figure, gazing up at the sky as he had been, her features shrouded by the night. As he approached, the song faded away. It seemed he had been noticed in turn.

…Perhaps this was just her way of passing the time. Venti supposed the least he could do was hear her out.

“North?” he repeated. “I do believe it is that way—” he pointed vaguely in its direction—”but I’m afraid our stars won’t be much help with direction. Unless you are looking for your own direction; in which case, as they say: ‘in Teyvat, the stars in the sky will always have a place for you’.”

He smiled and looked up at the sky again.

[wind-blumes]

it's sad to see GH go, but venti will stick around! I plan to finish all existing threads, and if you'd like to plot new ones, feel free to ask! however, I will restrict this to muns/blogs that were affiliated with GH for the time being.

see you in the stars, gnostic hymns!

[enflarable]

we're cooked

[enflarable]

[NEW!] This is an odd request. The Cat’s Tail’s number one employee, the poster-kitty, the ultimate meow meow, Prince, has developed this, um… attitude problem. Now he spends his days perched atop the highest shelf, staring down at customers with what can only be described as imperious feline disdain. Why, if a subtitle could appear right now, his would probably read (”Do not look at me, pesky lowlife!”) Archons, please, EVERYONE misses petting Prince! starter for @wind-blumes

On one peaceful sunny morning, a little dragon found himself outside a witch's hut, but found himself unable to go further. For you see, this hut had a peculiar guardian- the prince of cats, royalty himself! And, unfortunately, he was in a bad mood- worse than usual, and his limited tendency to grant permission to enter was all but gone.

"Um…" Durin's tail swings back and forth nervously as the number of cats guarding the entrance to the Cat's Tail grows, feline eyes all fixed on him. "I'm here… to make a delivery?"

No dice.

"... Please let me in."

Naturally, nothing. Despite negotiations falling through, the dragon's eyes catch sight of something unusual- or rather, the lack of something usual.

"Huh? Where's the black-cat leader of yours?"

Unfortunately for the little dragon, that was the wrong thing to say. The cats, already on edge from their leader's current attitude, give their vocal warnings first, and- well-versed in what would come next, he makes his escape.

… Right into the central square of Mondstadt, where luck finally smiles on him! There- the one person who could most certainly solve a simple problem like this, the Anemo Archon himself! It is as if a switch is pulled, and he perks up at the sight.

"Lord B- I mean, Mister Venti!" Stumbling forward, unheeding of the packages balanced precariously in his arms, he comes to a stop right beside the bard, "Are you busy right now? I'd like to ask you a question, or maybe a favor."

[wind-blumes]

Perched atop one of Mondstadt City’s walls with lyre in hand, Venti watched the water bubbling from the fountain sparkle in the sunlight. The fire of Good Hunter’s stove crackled merrily, producing a rich aroma of meat and veggies and other lunchtime delights, and the cool winter breeze played gently with his hair.

“Hmm,” Venti mused, strumming his lyre with a flourish. “As brilliant sun shines brightly over Mond/The world around doth swell in joyous song…”

In the distance, he saw a small figure carrying a rather large stack of packages slowly approach the entrance to the Cat’s Tail. Ah, it was Mondstadt’s newest resident dragon, little Durin! Venti watched him linger in the doorway and then suddenly bolt away—directly towards him.

Dismissing his lyre, Venti hopped off of the wall and landed gently on the ground, leaning forward just in time to catch a wayward package as it leapt out of Durin’s arms. “Why, hello, Durin! Oh, I’m not—”

Eh? Wait a minute! Durin’s question-or-maybe-a-favor didn’t have to do with going back to the Cat’s Tail, did it? Venti would be perfectly happy to assist Durin with whatever he needed, but if it involved facing any of the cats… ugh, his nose was itching already! Surely it wouldn’t!

“—not busy at all!” Venti continued cheerily, hoping a smile would hide his momentary stumble. “Ask away, ehe~”

[choivenant]

bugs when you

[choivenant]

The deacon was not in possession of an Anemo vision, and thus had no mastery over the wind. But the people of Mondstadt knew well that he had an ear of their Archon, and the Archon his- else he would be a poor herald indeed- even if they didn't know how or why he had been so uniquely chosen.

So who could blame him if his prayers were answered with an opportune breeze? His faith unwavering that even now, his words would not go unnoticed by the wind (especially since said Archon was only a few feet away). At the god's go-ahead, a cheeky wink, the deacon tosses the final throw.

Even if its trajectory was off, which it was, it is guided to its proper destination by a gust of wind. Dahlia lets out a cheer as the mechanism activates, swiftly and mercilessly dunking Venti into the water. He would be fine- in fact, the two of them could very easily dry him off with their combined (ahem) visions.

"Congratulations, good sirs!" The coordinator claps politely, clearly having expected the two to go for another round. "Here are your vouchers for a month of free drinks! The exact terms are written on the paper- so be sure to read it thoroughly."

Dahlia takes the prize, scanning the terms briefly (one drink per day, and no pricier than a cider) as he waits for the bard to climb out of the tub. "As promised, my friend, the prize is yours!"

[wind-blumes]

A bright green cap bobbed up to the surface of the water, followed by a certain now-hatless bard.

“That was quite the throw, Dahlia!” Venti said, paddling to the edge and leaning over the side of the tank. “I knew you’d pull it off!”

He looked between Dahlia and the coordinator with a sheepish smile. “But ahem, a small issue… how do I get out?”

It seemed his little trick to improve Dahlia’s aim had also knocked over the ladder leaning out of the tub. With some assistance, he was freed from his (temporary) watery prison, and soon a soaking-wet Venti rejoined Dahlia on solid ground. As the two of them made their way back towards the center of Mondstadt (marked by a trail of water droplets left by Venti’s dripping cape), Venti took the chance to closely examine their hard-earned vouchers.

“One drink per day and nothing pricier than a cider?” he exclaimed. “How stingy! Although it’s certainly better than no free drinks, I suppose~ What say we go partake in our hard-earned reward? Or maaaybe... we think of strategies to convince the other taverns to do something similar? Perhaps Master Diluc will be amenable to the idea if we both ask him, ehe!”

As they walked, the wind danced through the trees, plucking wine-red leaves from their branches and whisking them into the open sky. The rattling of the windmills and calls of children playing in the autumn daylight rang out around them—all in all, another bustling afternoon in Mondstadt.

—end.

[grannyitztli]

Cat Cat Cat Cat Cat Cat Cat Cat Cat Cat Cat Cat Cat Cat Cat Cat Cat Cat Car

April Commission

Word spreads around Inazuma: The Seirai Island's Asase Shrine is open once again and welcomes the faithful of the land of Narukami and beyond alike to pay their respects. Both curious about the resurgence of this long-forgotten place, and attracted by the promise of a shrine full of cats, people flock to the location to check it out. Of course, with many visitors comes a full offertory box, and with a full offertory box... come bandits. The self-proclaimed Provisional Priestess, Neko, is recruiting brave volunteers to put those crooks back in their place, desperate to get back the first offerings she's seen in years. Lend her a hand, would you? I mean - who wouldn't want to help a talking cat?

[grannyitztli]

Orange cats, black cats, white cats, cats with patterns, moody cats, playful cats, cats with an oddly fierce tendency to wreak havoc, all these various different cats were present, living their best lives laid out for them on this island. One cat with a black and white pattern walks up to the granny, rubbing its entire body along her leg like it was trying to push her over. Years, years and years of stoicism, acting, and proper principled behavior was almost toppled but such a small critter.

But the granny holds on. How could she show such an unbefitting side of herself. With a sobering cough, she clears her throat, calming herself and refraining from petting the clump of love currently rolling around on her sandals.

She turns to Venti, her expression back to her normal stern look, "You. Don't think we just came here to play with the cats. How could you have forgotten why were are here? Are you that free-spirited? Sorry that is too kind. Are you that stupid? We are here to protect these adorable bundles of love and kindness. So stop your idling."

She begins to walk deeper into the island, before stopping, still facing away from Venti, "And don't even THINK, about running away now. No matter where you go, I will drag you back by the scruff of your neck."

In all her years, granny has had quite the experience in disciplining younger bratty children. People constantly challenging her at the ungodly hours of mid-afternoon. This twerp proves to be the same. But, he seems kind in nature. Maybe he would make for a good friend for Ororon...

[wind-blumes]

“Hey, I’m not idling!” Venti protested, hands raised. “I told you, if I step any further, I’ll be afflicted with a terrible, debilitating bout of sneezing! I can protect the cats—and your bags—over here just fine.” He eyed the cats as they lazed about the grass. “Though, from my experience, cats are perfectly capable of protecting themselves.”

He set Citlali’s bags down on the ground and sighed. Was she really so bothered by him sneaking up on her at the docks? Perhaps she was someone who greatly valued honesty and social etiquette; unfortunately, Venti wasn’t a shining example of either, but it was something to keep in mind if he wanted to repair their relationship. 

As Citlali finally left to go enjoy her cat time, he amused himself with people-watching. The other passengers of the ship seemed to have been looking forward to meeting the cats just as much, if not more, than Citlali, and soon the island’s cats were swarmed with cooing onlookers. In the distance, the Asase Shrine’s cat statue had garnered its own crowd of admirers. Venti smiled.

 After a while, he decided that he might as well sit down if he was going to stay here for a long time—but just as he was about to do so, he heard voices come from the docked ship behind him. Were there still passengers aboard the ship? Venti turned his head to listen. 

“...remember the plan,” someone was saying. “The rest of ‘em are already out there, making sure people are distracted.” “Yeah, just making sure everything’s ready,” another voice replied. “Ha! The perfect heist! No one will know!”

And that, Venti thought, is where you’re wrong.

“Sorry, Citlali,” he said with a sigh. “There goes any chance of making amends.”

Hitching her bag over his shoulder, Venti quickly darted towards the ship.

[wind-blumes]

the spilling drops of time

Commission Board: Preservation | @mydcimos

[mydcimos]

Too often, people hailing from outside of Amphoreus enjoyed long explanations that made somehow less sense than the ‘prophets’ that liked to stand around the marketplace. What was happening ahead was a different kind of festival … but not so unfamiliar. He would still vastly prefer the sound of clashing steel, the fevered chant of a crowd of warriors – a proper Kremnoan Festival – over swaying drunkards caught in unending merriment…

Nonetheless, it was not so foreign. He crossed his arms over his chest as he looked down at the much shorter man. Despite the jovial pitch of his voice and the odd luminescence adding layers of color to his eyes, he seemed… “Fine.” At the very least, he was dressed separately from the other denizens of this place. If he was the enemy, then Mydei might as well keep him close.

Together, the walk. Music swelled in and out of his concentration. Food, drink, hot springs…not terrifying in the least. After a moment, he leaned to dip a hand in one of the springs, feeling the warm water shift warmer to match his preferences. “Hm…” Short of someone drowning in the bubbling pools ahead of them, there was little danger. “A slow and uneventful death. If blood is sought, I’d rather it be swift. If you are familiar with these, then make your way. I will follow your methods.”

[wind-blumes]

“Eh?” Venti looked towards the man, startled. Sure, they could be walking into a trap, but he doubted that any youkai would put so much effort into crafting such an appealing environment only for it to be a long con resulting in death. “I’m sure this is nothing like that! Here, let’s look around a bit.” 

The two of them made their way through the festival, passing stalls upon stalls of lavish food and drink. As they walked, a familiar scent—apples?—caught Venti’s notice, drawing his gaze to a stall peddling a selection of baked apple treats. Suspicious. But just one wouldn’t hurt, would it? For only a moment he was gone, returning to the other man’s side with a baked good in hand. 

Further into the forest, the air began to grow heavy with a thick, sweet scent, and the guests they passed started to become less human and more mystical. Venti stopped in his tracks, brow furrowed. 

“The youkai magic here is stronger… I think this is a good spot for a more thorough investigation,” he said. “I doubt we’ll get any straight answers from anyone here, but any new information will certainly be helpful.”

[choivenant]

bugs when you

[choivenant]

"Not to worry, my friend! I'll be sure to win you those drinks yet!" Dahlia claims- an unfounded assurance, though that didn't quite matter in the moment. After all, if he fails to get the target at the end, he knows where they'd come from, anyway.

That being his wallet, of course.

Perhaps driven by this reminder, the second throw is better than the first- at least this one could be reasonably said to be heading in the target's direction. Still, it goes wide, depriving both him and the willing victim of their prize.

"Ah-! So close!"

Close was a relative term. Still, the deacon studies his last remaining chance before he would technically have to pay for more attempts. He clasps his hands together and mutters a quick prayer.

"O' Lord, may your winds lead me to a better tomorrow." Then, louder, to the bard above the tub, "Alright! Last try!"

[wind-blumes]

Venti watched the ball soar over his head this time, but still far from the target. Well, he noted with amusement, at least the ball went towards the target this time. Swinging his feet idly, he watched as Dahlia hyped himself up for the final throw. Mm-hmm! That was the spirit.

Then he struggled to keep a straight face as he hears Dahlia’s voice carry to him as a prayer on the wind: O' Lord, may your winds lead me to a better tomorrow! Oh, Dahlia, ever so devout! Perhaps Lord Barbatos will take pity on you for your less-than-desirable throwing skill; after all, who would he be to deny you of this wonderful opportunity to partake in one of his sacred gifts!

So as Dahlia calls out to him, Venti gives him a knowing wink, and as the deacon takes aim and threw the next ball—closer to the target this time, but still nowhere near the center—the crisp autumn breeze blew through the streets of Mondstadt, stirring leaves and ruffling skirts and hair—and nudging the ball just so, causing it to land squarely in the center of the target.

The small target swiveled backwards with the creak of hinges, causing the little seat to swing down with it—and Venti to fall into the pool of water below.

[wind-blumes]

through wires and waves

Commission Board: Elation | @frostingmoonlight

[wind-blumes]

“Help Wanted,” Venti read aloud. “Crewmembers for Whale-Spotting Sailing Voyage. Hey, Mr. Bartender,” he said, leaning over and waggling the flyer at said bartender, “d’you know what this is all about?”

The bartender of The Flagship peered over the counter, dishrag in hand. “Some sailors put it up,” they said. “Said they spotted a big whale but they lost it, and now they’re trying to find it again, so they’re hiring help. It’s a good sum of Mora they’re offering, too.”

“They’re paying people to get on a boat and look for a whale?” Venti asked, suddenly sitting up straight. “When are they leaving?”

The bartender thought for a moment. “Today, I think.”

“Oh? Well, I’ll get going, then!” Venti said brightly, hopping off the barstool and making towards the door.

“Hey, bard! Pay for your drink first!” the bartender called after him.

“You can put it on Varka’s tab!” Venti called back. “And tell him Venti says hello!”

Venti darted through the streets of Nasha Town, nimbly avoiding what might have been a couple of head-on collisions as he headed towards the docks. He’d only stopped by the town for a brief visit, to look around the place he’d heard about in bits and pieces from the Knights; what luck, he thought, to happen upon a rare opportunity like this! 

The docks were crowded. Among the bustle and chatter, the clanks and thuds of chains and rope rang through the air—the sounds of a boat being undocked. Hoping that he’d managed to catch the whale-spotting sailors, Venti hopped over a railing, wriggled through the throngs of people, and emerged on the other side, sidling up to one of the crew.

“Hello there! Would you happen to be the crew in search of the great behemoth of the deep?” he asked. The sailor nodded. Venti grinned. “...Room for one more?”

And thus, Venti found himself among the crew of The Scop. He watched the dock of Nasha Town as it slowly receded into the distance, the ocean glittering in the sunlight and the sea breeze playing with his hair. Ah, what a lovely day to go sailing! 

Though, considering this might be a long voyage, maybe he’d best get acquainted with some of the others. Maybe there were other adventurers who had seen the flyer and joined, just like he had! Venti strolled around the deck, looking for someone to strike up conversation with—perhaps that lady over there, with the beautiful deer antlers?

“Good day!” he said as he approached. “A question, if I may ask—what drew you to board this sailing craft?”

[bloodbxrn]

givin’ ‘em the ol’ razzle dazzle

[bloodbxrn]

Well, if he knew what he was looking for, then he wouldn't be looking, now would he? 

It was awfully tempting to shoot that back in the kid's face after his snooty little tone, but that was engagement of a different problem that was distracting him further from the initial problem – ie, the thing he didn't know about that he was following, or trying to. 

Kalpas wrinkled his nose up at the kid, and then as he rose to standing once more down at the kid, eyes narrowed in response to the expression the boy was wearing as he proudly proclaimed he was not merely stronger than he looked, but older. 

The crowd had begun to spiral back in this direction again, no longer cushioned by the pocket of secrecy that they'd had before, and if he wanted to get behind this wall – and he did, very badly, knowing in his gut that this was where the muscled suit had gone to – then he would have to do it before too many eyes were on them. 

"If you get your ass beat, it's on you," Kalpas promised, leaning forward and prodding a finger in the child's direction, before he shoved his shoulder with some force against the wall – it shivered in response, unused to such rough treatment but sliding open a few inches nonetheless to reveal the chamber behind the false wall. "I won't come running if you find yourself in deep shit. Now go on – go!" 

He ushered the boy inside with a hand before slipping in himself and sliding the wall back into place behind them, squinting a bit as his eyes adjusted to the change from great sparkling ballroom lighting to the softer near-dark of the corridor they now found themselves in, faintly humming from the din of the party just a few feet separate from them. 

"Damn, lost him - " 

[wind-blumes]

Propelled by the force of the man’s hand, Venti stumbled into the corridor beyond the hidden wall. Huh. So there was some sneaky business going on. Well, two could play at that game. 

He stood still and listened, feeling how the air flowed through the dark passageway. The tips of his braids glowing faintly with the effort. Hmm… the corridor appeared to split into two different hallways, each wrapping around the ballroom and down underground, and coming from the one to the right, aha! - the rustle of movement and a hushed whisper.

“Hey,” he said quietly, waving his hand in the man’s direction - could he see in the dark with that mask on? “I hear someone this way.” 

Not waiting to see whether the man would follow him or not, Venti set off along the passageway, ensuring that the sound of his footsteps was only audible to the two of them. Truthfully, he felt a bit bad for inserting himself into this man's business, but if he had conceded to working alongside him, then helping the investigation along was the least Venti could do!

To the right and down the hallway, turn and turn again. Idly, he wondered what the original purpose of these hallways were. Maintenance for the building, maybe? 

At the end of the hallway was a door, from beyond which arose the sound of quiet conversation. Silently, Venti stood beside it, and listened.

[wind-blumes]

[SNOWBALL]

The snow of Belobog was almost as thick as the winters of Siberia. The Silver Wolf of the Urals was well accustomed to the crunch as she stepped through, hunting whoever her target had been at the time. However, Bronya Zaychik was accustomed to the recreation of a snowball fight. She had found herself in the middle of plenty at Matushka’s Orphanage. 

Packing together a bunch of snow, Bronya began to stealthily crunch through the snow, as though muscle memory after years of inactivity came flooding back all at once. Each step was quiet, as she stalked around to find her target. Who would be the recipient of balled up snow? 

And then, she saw a familiar head of highlighted hair. That bard from Teyvat, who bore an eerily familiar look to a ghost of Bronya’s past, caught in the wind. Her hand shakes, as she stares at the young bard, contemplating whether or not he should be her target. For a moment, she considers just walking away, finding another target, and not allowing something fun to be tainted by grief.

But in the next, the snowball is already leaving her hands, with a familiar precision, as though she were back in those Siberian winters once more. 

Already, she is packing together another snowball. She supposes that she would enter a snowball fight today. ‘I wonder if Wendy would’ve liked to have a snowball fight too, just like this one.’

“If you’re quick enough, prepare to dodge some more, Mister Bard. Otherwise, I’m a very good shot.”

The heavy snowfall had failed to put a damper on the enthusiasm of Belobog’s children—if anything, the ongoing snow war had expanded in size and complexity, with the extra snowfall used to build makeshift home bases with stocks of ammunition. Venti had spent a fair bit of time on the front lines earlier, sending waves of snowballs towards the opposing base; he was now a ways away, poignantly hatless, packing the untrodden snow into more balls.

(The leaves on his hat made him an easy target, he’d been told, as they stuck out against the white snow; so he had abandoned it somewhere he couldn’t quite remember. Ah, well, he thought, as he readied another snowball. I’ll just find it later.)

His work finished, Venti stood back up. Something whizzed through the air behind him, and a clump of snow burst on his back.

“How dedicated you must be to follow me all the way out here!” Venti said, turning to face his assailant. “Why don’t we—oh?”

It wasn’t anyone from the snowball fight. It was the silver-haired girl who he had seen once, in the Angel's Share.

"I see that we've met again," he said with a smile, picking up a snowball from his stock and idly tossing it into the air with one hand. "In that case, I hope you'll be just as good at dodging as I am."

(Replenishing the stock—and finding his hat—could wait.)

[wind-blumes]

SONG.  /  “don't you want to dance too, mister bard?” a beaming smile in greeting as march 7th drifts away from the crowd of dancers toward one of the musicians. she gives his instrument a cursory glance, but she doesn't know the first thing about playing an instrument, really. the most musical she gets is switching the music in the parlor song and pulling pom-pom along to spin around with her. “it doesn't seem fair if everyone but you gets to.”

the nameless holds out a hand with a laugh in invitation, the corners of her eyes creasing. “do you want to dance with me? my other partner got tired, but i've still got lots of energy to go around! ...though i'm still not that good at dancing yet, but i promise i won't step on your feet!”

Throughout the campsite the steady rhythm of the music beat like a heart; the soaring melody its voice and the joy of the dancers its soul. He’d been here for the past hour, or two, or three—he’d lost count but wasn’t particularly keeping track in the first place—accompanying the Belobogian troupe with Der Frühling until someone handed off a fiddle and he picked that up instead.  

Truthfully, he would be content sitting performing into the wee hours of the morning, but it would be rude to decline such a thoughtful invitation! Venti grinned and accepted the pink-haired girl’s hand. “I’d be delighted to join you, ehe! Well, then… shall we?”

The dance they shared was clumsy—true to her word, there was no trampling of feet, though there were some near-misses—but full of life, and Venti had to admit, it was certainly just as fun being on this side as it was on the other.

[wind-blumes]

[RING] - The air is thick with the smell of sweat and your ears ring with the sound of loud cheers and disappointed yells. There’s no place for elegance here, only who could land a clean hit first! The rules are simple: bring your weapons, your gadgets, and what have you! Today is special, today you can go all out. Just be sure you don’t kill each other.

THE FIRST IS GOING TO ENJOY THIS, stepping into the ring with an almost vicious posture. Unlike the conflict with the Pyro Archon, born of a deep seeded necessity, the match with the Anemo Archon can only be called a grudge, the same grudge Rozalyne once held and one he intends to see fulfilled.

"Barbatos." A name growled in disgust for the Archon who he remembers so vividly, a hatred as deep-seated as that held for the shades as the blade of ice, of frozen hopes, manifests by his side. He is here as witness and reminder, to carry on the life of the Crimson Witch of Flames, as his gaze looks to the shorter god.

"Or is it Venti? Or the nameless bard? No matter, I, Il Capitano, First of the Fatui Harbingers, challenge you here and now. Come, God of Freedom, let us see if your reputation is as deserving as those that survived claim." A thrown gauntlet, bringing the blade high as the arts of a dead people envelop him, life, hopes, dreams and the remnants of distant souls becoming one within him.

One would think that the First of the Fatui Harbingers would have enough decorum to not be throwing an Archon’s name everywhere. Venti sighed. A flash of green, and a burst of Anemo energy - and he sidestepped the Harbinger’s icy blade.

To be honest, he wasn’t sure what action of his would warrant such behavior; after all, the memory of gods was a fickle thing. But, he decided, it would be better to calm the situation than to add fuel to the flame. Especially here, in the middle of a mortal establishment.

“I would rather that you called me Venti,” he said quietly. “And I don’t want to fight you here, regardless of what grudge you have against me. This festival is held to celebrate new life, no? This is not the place to dwell on the past. Find me after returning to Tevyat if you wish - but I’m sure you have better things to do than to go picking fights with Archons.”

With that, he raised his arms in surrender and climbed out of the ring.