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good-to-drive · 3 months ago

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Abuse, Silence, And Why Kevin Can Fuck Himself

I recently finished watching Kevin Can Fuck Himself on Netflix, and, aside from being the most brutally honest portrayal of domestic abuse I have ever seen, I discovered a beautifully written examination of narrative as power and silence as abuse and how this manifests in our larger culture.

Without going into too much detail, the show is filmed in two distinct styles that are interleaved throughout each episode to tell a cohesive story. Allison and Kevin’s relationship as seen by the rest of the world is told through a multi-cam, laugh-track sitcom that depicts a very typical “goofy husband, shrewish wife” mainstream comedy. Allison’s life through her own eyes is told through a single-cam drama/thriller about Allison planning to murder Kevin to escape his abuse.

It’s an absolute masterclass in screenwriting, but more than that, every episode explores the difference between truth, fact, and reality, and how none of these things are quite as much or as little as story. But while the process of transforming the chaotic and plotless reality of life into a story is as involuntary and essential as breathing, misogyny and the degradation of women is just as ubiquitous in our society, and a story that exists at the expense of another person’s lived reality is a refutation of their humanity.

It's also just a great show for anyone who likes to engage with history (or reality TV or true crime or “real life stories” in general), because while we have to tell ourselves stories about her own lives, we have to tell ourselves stories about other people as well. Eternal silence is narrative death, and the perpetual silence of an unspoken narrative is often the last death we can visit on someone whose story we’d rather ignore.

I also pulled up some books – Lolita and Disgrace – that dealt with similar themes, but from the perspective of the abuser. And what strikes me the most is that, across three beautifully written stories about narrative and silence within a culture that normalizes abuse, Allison, who began her story within a state of narrative death, was the only point-of-view character who had any chance of surviving.

One of the main themes of Kevin is that a compelling story is often a story that reinforces what we already believe or like to believe, and while the story may be factual and true it often also exists at the expense of someone's lived reality. The exact same series of events can be a silly joke or a harrowing tale of abuse depending on the lens through which we view it, but historically we've only been willing to see the multicam, laugh track, sitcom perspective on unbalanced relationships.

The alchemical process of turning a series of disjoint facts and experiences into a narrative creates something new and compelling, and erases much of what previously existed. In this way, it’s entirely irreversible. We spin our experiences into a very thin thread, a story we can tell ourselves that elicits something within us, something we need in order to live with the complex, uncertain, and unsatisfying reality of life. In think in many ways the thing we elicit in ourselves is truth. But truth is both more and less than fact, often more a reflection of our own beliefs and desires than the events of our lives. And in telling that truth we may never stray from the facts, but we almost by definition cannot give voice to another person’s reality.

There's a scene in season 2 of Kevin when Allison is hit by a door – a la the classic excuse – because of Kevin’s carelessness. And while he absolutely did not hit her, the way it's written is such an incredible allegory for how Kevin has curated their story and curated their friends' and family’s perceptions of their story such that even if she tells everyone the exact, unvarnished truth of what's happening to her and begs for help, they will only be capable of seeing the laugh-track, sitcom, “Kevin is a harmless goofball and his wife is a total shrew” perspective on the events of their lives.

As so often happens with abuse, their friends and family saw Allison being hurt because of Kevin. But the alchemy of creating a narrative around Kevin and Allison is irreversible, and the series of events they witness can only be spun together to a joke, an accident, a silly, childish mistake. Allison’s reality, Allison’s pain and fear, is completely elided. Like a lost sound in the middle of a sentence, her experience goes silent, and their larger understanding of her relationship never has to change. And you feel so acutely how Allison lives her entire life in that silence.

Storytelling is human, it’s essential, there’s no other way to engage with our own lives. And it’s not lying. It’s never lying to tell the truth. But it doesn’t reflect every reality, either, because another person’s reality can’t be reflected within our own narrative, because that’s what it means to be another person. To spin two different threads.

And because narrative is the essential process by which we understand our reality, denying someone their own narrative, or denying that this narrative be heard, is inherently abusive. To allow someone a voice is to give them humanity, and to suppress it is to strip that humanity away.

Disgrace, by J.M. Coetzee, follows the story of a professor, David, who rapes a student and then fails to protect his daughter, Lucy, from being raped by intruders in their home. He destroys his daughter’s life – not through failing to protect her, but through twisting her rape into a story about why the rape of his student wasn’t wrong. The main theme of the book is generally considered to be exploitation, but Coetzee doesn’t deal with the exploitation of the rape. That’s too direct, too immediate, too easy for the reader to understand as misogynistic and wrong. Rather, Coetzee delves into “the innocuous-seeming use of another person to fill one's gentler emotional needs” (Ruden).

The rape is how we understand David as a fundamentally exploitative person, a person who denies others their humanity by converting them into a vessel for his own desires, who erases their voice in order to speak through them and give himself the things he needs. And that’s how we recognize that the way he absorbs and claims the stories of his daughter and his student is another kind of violation of their humanity. Another way of turning women into vessels for men’s pain and fear and need.

What’s fascinating is that David's student finds her voice – files a complaint against him – and is eventually able to continue with her life. The woman he raped is less damaged by him than his own daughter, because she was the woman he couldn’t permanently silence.

In Lolita, another brilliant novel about abuse, dehumanization, and storytelling, Humbert turns to the reader at the end and says, “Imagine us, reader, for we don’t really exist if you don’t.”

It’s not that Humbert knew he was fictional, but that he knew everyone was fictional. Believed the entire world only truly existed in his own mind, because anything beyond that was irrelevant to his needs. He coped with the collapse of his ability to dehumanize Dolores (who he called Lolita) by demanding that his voice be resurrected. Demanding immortality. Demanding his narrative exist in another person’s world, and thereby be given the existence and humanity that Allison and Dolores and Lucy and David’s student were denied.

Pushing his needs, finally, onto the reader, because we are the only person he has left, and a person like him can only exist through the use of another. In that way, Humbert was powerless. In that way, Kevin and David were powerless, too.

In Disgrace, David’s dream is to write an opera, and at the end of the book he realizes he’ll never finish his magnum opus. He’ll never be able to terminate the process of converting himself, his world, into a story. But he does learn to decenter himself in that narrative. And it’s when he loses all fear of death, and any conception of the self, that he gains the ability to give dogs – who he generally equates to women – a voice within his opera, his life’s work.

It’s in death that we discover our true unimportance as human beings, that we learn to let go of vanity and our conception of the self entirely. And David had degraded women so thoroughly in order to justify how he used them to meet his own emotional needs that it was only in losing all value for his own life that he could gain the ability to see them as equal voices. To actually put those voices into his own life story. It's at the cost of himself that he allows other people to truly exist, in the death of the self that he finally allows the world to exist outside of himself. It’s almost a positive character arc. Almost.

When Kevin finally loses the ability to abuse Allison, he, like many abusers, loses all desire to live. His world was built on a structure of superiority and inferiority, on beings and vessels, on the inherent value of men and the inherent meaninglessness of women’s lives. The system on which he based his entire reality has been destroyed by Allison’s declaration of the self. And, if he was a being because she was a vessel, then in losing the ability to treat her as a vessel, to fully and completely dehumanize her, he has lost his own humanity.

It may be perfectly summed up here: “Become major. Live like a hero. That's what the classics teach us. Be a main character. Otherwise, what is life for?” (Coetzee).

If you’re not to be a main character, if there indeed is no split between major and minor characters, between people and the paper dolls that populate their story, between living beings and the vessels into which they pour their need – what is life for?

Nothing. At least, not for people whose narrative must exist at the expense of another.

And that’s why I say that only a narrator like Allison could survive this kind of story. Despite beginning her story trapped in eternal silence, her reality fully elided no matter how immediate and obvious it became, Allison was the only point-of-view character of any of these three stories who didn’t establish her power through the degradation of another. Who didn’t conceptualize the world via being and vessels. Whose narrative didn’t exist, by necessity, at the expense of another person’s humanity. Whose thread could exist in a larger tapestry without destroying her sense of self.

Don’t get me wrong, she’s not generally a likable character. She’s misogynistic, cruel, selfish, jealous, desperate, afraid, and in pain. Like anyone in an abusive relationship, she’s not at her best, and she’s often pushed to do things that are ugly and disturbing because she’s simply been pushed too far.

But, for me, the power in her character is in how her last scene never felt like a final scene. Her story didn’t have to be killed, her conception of the self didn’t have to be killed, in order to reveal the brutal reality of stories twisting and intertwining without any inherently superior truth or narrative among them. Allison’s story was one of declaring herself. And that’s why it didn’t feel like it ended at the end. Instead, this felt like a beginning.

#this is probably the most egregious 'post that no one asked for' that I've ever written #but man this show HIT me y'all #and then I went back and reread parts of disgrace and that hit me too #it also made me reconsider my online presence and how I myself engage with narrative in the very small little world I'm a part of #I caught some shit a while ago and made a conscious decision to never comment on the narrative around the beatles #and to be clear I was just talking about a general narrative in society at large I wasn't bringing up anything specific or attacking people #more how larger social narratives filter into and sometimes come to define individual stories #but it was upsetting to people and I figured instead I can just try to express a compassionate perspective on the mentally ill myself #but now I wonder if I've gone too far #idk without naming any names I'm getting unblocked by people who should definitely still find my mindset intolerable to their worldview #and I don't blame them because we all have reasons for the things we believe and we're all just doing our best #but it's a canary in the coal mine #it makes me think I've become so focused on not ruffling feathers that I'm tacitly approving some disturbing beliefs #and I think I could have happily ignored that if I hadn't just watched this show #posts that no one asked for #kevin can fuck himself #kevin can f*** himself #op #longer rambles

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branches-of-time · 5 months ago

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The House That Built Me

“Figured you’d either still be at the tavern, or were already home wondering where I was.”

He smiles at you, soft, before looking away. “I was at the tavern most of the day, like I planned this morning. But… something didn’t feel right. I wasn’t really… giving it my all, and I think the patrons could tell.”

You frown. “What didn’t feel right? Are you okay?”

“Oh, I’m fine, Windblume. I’m just fine.”

You aren’t convinced. “Then, uh… do you feel like sharing what isn’t fine?”

His gaze drops to the dark sea below. “I think you know what it is, actually.”

Cryptic as ever, you take a moment to ponder what he might mean. He takes the silence as an opportunity to elaborate. “I never really wonder where you are, you know?"

~~~~~~~

Inazuma, all raging storms and war-torn, is calling your name. Shamefully, you find yourself running north instead, searching for something, anything to fill this home-shaped void in your heart.

Maybe, just maybe, you’ll come to find that home is a person, more than a place.

Pairing: Venti x Reader - Established Relationship, GN!Reader

Word Count: 11,033

Contains: [angst (with a happy ending)] [crying] [cuddling] [emotional hurt/comfort] [lack of communication] [loneliness] [memories] [not canon compliant] [pet death] [Reader & Venti are both adults] [Reader is not Traveler but they essentially take their place in the game's plot] [self-deprecating reader] [separation anxiety] [set prior to Version 2.0] [songfic]

A/Ns: This is a songfic! Title and verses written throughout the fic are from the song- "The House That Built Me" by Miranda Lambert.

Lastly, some context- Reader is a Riftwolf-Human hybrid, can manipulate all seven elements but has an affinity for Geo.

I know they say you can't go home again.

Sand, warmed by the afternoon sun, swells between your spread fingers as you press your hands down into the ground at your sides. Summoning a modicum of Geo elemental energy, your hands meet no resistance as they sink into the compacted grains like a hot knife through butter. You drop your raised shoulders and let your hands bury several inches into the beach until the sand surrounding them is cool, untouched by the heat of the day.

Dismissing the energy you’d been using to repel it, you allow the ground to resist you again. You note the weight of the sand as it presses down on the backs of your hands, and the firm bed of grains packed beneath your palms. You shut your eyes and flex your fingers slightly, focusing on the soft grit of Falcon Coast as it surrounds your hands in its weighted embrace.

Breathing a heavy sigh, you reopen your eyes, dropping your head and cursing the earth beneath you. This attempt at grounding yourself is doing little to ease the knot in your stomach, nor the tightness in your chest. Looking up and out across the expanse of ocean before you, the sight of Musk Reef looming in the distance doesn’t help either. You refuse to allow your gaze to drift any further south.

You begin to ask yourself what you’re even doing here, and why you thought this was a good idea. You’re no stranger to fleeing to Mondstadt whenever the world overwhelms you, but this specific beach perhaps wasn’t the wisest choice. Certainly not when the very thing you’re running from is the sea.

You hadn’t put much thought into where to go, you just knew you wanted to go home. Materializing at the waypoint east of Windrise was simply instinctual. Though, when you arrived, you didn’t turn and head north like you had so many times before. No, you took a running jump off the cliff below, gliding south and landing on the coast.

Sitting here now though, hands buried in the same sand you first washed up on after clawing your way out of the abyss… it’s not as comforting of a spot as you thought it might be. You don’t feel grounded at all, caught up between memories of the past and fears of the future.

Tugging your hands out of the sand with a frustrated huff, you turn your head to glance behind you at the cliff to the north.

…Maybe you should’ve gone that way instead. Maybe you should go home.

I just had to come back one last time.

Materializing at the earlier waypoint once again, you pause to collect yourself for a moment. Making frequent use of the waypoints, especially in your current state, isn’t very wise. Then again, you aren’t in a very wise state. Taking a deep breath to dispel the dizziness, you let the warm breeze caress your cheeks. Looking around from your current vantage point, you find yourself grateful for the lack of people in the area. Even Chloris is currently nowhere to be found.

Well, at least you can think in peace. Jumping down from the crumbling ruin, you steady yourself against an archway, narrowly avoiding crushing a small patch of lamp grass. …Perhaps you should’ve taken another moment to collect yourself. Perhaps you shouldn’t be wandering through the wilds all on your own, in such a state.

You scoff at the latter thought. This is Mondstadt, and you’re… you. What’s the worst that could happen?

Pushing aside the thought that more alone time may not be what you need right now, you think yourself through your predicament once again as you set off on a walk.

You’d been reluctant to leave Mondstadt and set out for Liyue, despite knowing that you’d get no further answers to your myriad of questions here. Not to mention the nagging, relentless tug of fate, pulling you away from the nation you’d come to call home. You knew full and well that you’d have to leave. You’d find no peace in an attempt to ignore the call, and settle here indefinitely.

Still, that didn’t stop you from milking your time here as much as possible. You’d gotten to a first name basis with nearly every soul in the city by the time you ran out of tasks to busy yourself with. Gained quite the notable reputation for yourself in the process too, although that hadn’t been your goal. You truly just didn’t want to leave.

You’d trekked over every hill, passed through every valley, climbed to every peak and turned over every stone and leaf along your way. You explored the nation’s ruins, deciphered inscriptions half faded into their stone, and felled every field till- …ruin guard that stood in your way. You’d braved the frozen peaks of Dragonspine, and gained a newfound appreciation for the Pyro element in the process.

You stood atop the celestial nail, looking out through the blizzard and over the expanse of land to the southwest.

The vast, foreign land that laid before you scared you more than the journey to the top of the nail had.

After all, you didn’t fear falling. The wind at your back would surely catch you, you had no doubt.

Flecks of Cryo stung, colliding with the flushed, exposed skin of your face. You closed your eyes, balance wavering slightly as a result. A small arm was quick to wrap itself around your waist.

No, you didn’t fear falling. You feared leaving.

You leaned into the safety of your Archon’s hold, their concerned voice perfectly audible in spite of the blizzard winds surrounding you. “Are you alright? Do you need to get down?”

You feared leaving him.

Leaves from the end of a tree branch brush against your perked ears, pulling you back into the present. Shaking your head and drawing your ears down on instinct, you look around and realize your muscle memory has carried you the rest of the way home. Tucked away against a small cliff south of the Thousand Winds Temple, stands an even smaller cottage, forgotten to time. An Anemo Samachurl paces in circles in the yard, and its Geo counterpart sits on the old stone stairs leading into the home.

Ma'am, I know you don't know me from Adam.

The Geo Samachurl turns to look at you, and you give it a small wave in acknowledgement. Its attention lingers on you for only a moment longer, before turning back to continue watching its Anemo companion instead. A smile plays on your lips, tight and bittersweet.

You make no move to continue approaching, instead opting to back up a few paces and lean against a nearby tree, observing.

They can sense enough of your shared origins, or- maybe it’s the lingering abyssal energy on you… regardless, they can sense something on you that they recognize. Nothing specific, but something familiar enough that they feel no need to take up arms upon the mere sight of you. In all honesty, you feel the same. Their presence here doesn’t pose any genuine threat, so you’re content to leave them be.

In the many months that have passed since Venti and you moved out of this place, it’s become a haven for others. Whether it be traveling adventurers seeking shelter for a night, wildlife seeking refuge from a passing storm beneath the awning, or even your old Khaenri’ahn kin seeking a place to camp, the cottage has served many.

The both of you have kept a distant eye on the place since your departure. Though, Venti has found himself remaining more distant than you since these Samachurls have set up camp. While your presence doesn’t ring any alarm bells for them, the same cannot be said for Venti. While he holds no ill intent toward them either, something about the aura he emits sets them instinctively on edge.

You can hardly blame them. You’d raised your hackles and bared your teeth at the bard, defensive upon your first encounter as well. Looking back, he was hardly posing any threat then either, but at the time, you viewed everyone and everything as a potential enemy. After all, you’d just escaped the abyss and been tossed to the shore of Falcon Coast by the waves, your weaker control over Cryo failing you halfway across your attempt at an ice bridge. Waking up on hot sand to find a humanoid being with an unsettling gaze emanating a suspiciously divine aura above you was more than enough to kick your fight or flight into gear.

You attempted both, in that order. You immediately dug your hands into the sand and threw fistfuls of it at the stranger, successfully disorienting them and giving you an opening to flee. With nothing but ocean to the east, you bolted west, and then north, headed for higher ground intent on gaining an advantage.

Looking back now, you know nothing could’ve stopped Venti if he’d truly wanted to catch you. At the time, though, you felt pretty confident in having outrun him. By the time you felt like you’d lost him, you found yourself also lost amidst trees, the uneven terrain obscuring your sense of direction. So- tired, thirsty, hungry, scared, and confused- you dropped from a run to a walk. Pressing forward in the direction you’d run in, you kept your ears at attention to catch any threat before it could catch you.

The Anemo Samachurl breaks from its quiet chanting and pacing, its sudden cry pulling your focus from the past. From the way it points and takes off in a run, and the way its Geo counterpart rises to follow behind, you assume it must have seen something in the woods that caught its attention. You see nor sense nothing of note, and dismiss the likely false alarm. Probably just wildlife, or perhaps a Dendro slime looking to play. As the two little shamans run off into the trees, you take advantage of the vacancy they leave behind.

But these handprints on the front steps are mine.

You figure you’ve got enough time for a quick visit before they return. Besides, the worst that’ll happen if they do catch you in their “camp” will be a few disgruntled spells cast toward you as you hightail it out of there. It’ll be fine.

Approaching the trio of old stone steps that lead to the front door, your gaze catches on two handprints engraved into the highest stair. Memories begin to surface.

Sitting on the stairs with your back pressed to the door, you found yourself growing frustrated with the green-clad individual in your yard. Well, perched in one of the trees in your yard, to be precise.

You’d taken up residence in this old run-down cottage once it seemed that no one else had been occupying it. The first few days had been blessedly peaceful, it seemed the area was rather devoid of other life. Well, threatening life, at least. There were plenty of plants and animals, plus a little pond close by, providing far more sustenance than you’d grown used to surviving on. You figured it was as good of a place as any to try and sort out your next move. You hadn’t put much thought into what you’d do once you escaped, after all. You found yourself feeling… lost. After charging ahead with your focus locked on a single goal for so damn long… you didn’t know what to do with yourself now that you’d achieved it.

You weren’t lost for long though. The nosy stranger that found you on the beach proved to be the next target of your focus. Your peaceful existence in this cottage overlooking the sea didn’t last long before you found yourself in their unwanted company once again. They might’ve thought they were subtle, hiding amongst the treetops and watching you quietly.

They weren't. You could sense them. Hell, even if it weren’t for the strange aura they emanated, you could smell them. They carried a strong scent of fermentation with them, and you could easily pick up on the pungent smell in the wind.

On the third day of your silent standoff, you grew fed up with this stranger’s odd behavior. You only knew one way of settling things, and that was face-to-face, not through some weird game of observation. You cleared your throat, preparing your underused voice and searching for your words. Tilting your head back to look at the trespasser, you snarl at their relaxed stance, laid back across a branch like they’re asleep.

“Come down.” You bark the command up into the trees.

The stranger doesn’t comply, but they do acknowledge you, opening their eyes and turning their head to look down at you. “So you can speak!”

You’re in no mood to entertain their conversation, certainly not before making sense of their intentions. “Come. Down.” You repeat, voice flat and serious.

“Are you gonna throw sand in my eyes again?” Light and playful, they question you.

You huff. “No.” Not without good reason, at least, you think to yourself but fail to vocalize.

They hum in thought for a moment before going quiet again. You let the seconds pass, growing more irritable with each one. Just as you’re about to call them down once again, they roll to the side, willingly falling from the branch they’d been laying on. Your muscles twitch and lock for a moment as you stop yourself from… from… from what? What were you going to do, run and try to catch them? Why would you do that? They’ve done nothing for you.

Your lack of action proves itself inconsequential as the stranger falls at a remarkably slow speed. It’s less of a fall and more of a… decent, you suppose, seeming to effortlessly defy gravity. Righting themself midair to land on their feet, they pull their cape forward on their shoulders, beginning to approach you.

You plant your hands firmly on the stone at your sides, readying yourself for anything.

“While that wasn’t the most convincing answer, I suppose I can extend a bit of trust to you. I sure hope you don’t make me regret it though!” They come far closer to you than anyone with a sense of self-preservation ought to. They hold a hand out between you, and you stare at it, waiting for something to happen. “I’m Venti, a bard from the city.”

Finally getting your first proper look at them up close, you’re struck with the strangest sense of recognition. You couldn’t pinpoint it to save your life, but… something about this person feels… familiar. Distant, hazy, and inexplicable, but it’s there nonetheless.

You don’t like it.

When you make no move to do… whatever they seem to want you to do with their hand, they drop it, and you flinch at the sudden motion. Frowning, they question you. “Might I ask for your name in exchange, my dear trespasser? We can hardly get to know one another without exchanging some basic information.”

Your brows pinch in frustration at the stranger's many words. They say a lot, and they say it fast. It’s been… you can’t recall how long it’s been since you last held such conversation. One word stands out to you, though. “Trespasser? Me?”

He nods. “Well, technically, yes! I don’t know much about you yet but I do know that this isn’t your house.”

“How?” You question, eyes narrowing, watching as they stupidly step even closer.

“How do I know that this isn’t yours?” They question you in return.

You nod, claws sharpening, palms itching with pent-up Geo energy crackling beneath your skin.

“Because it’s mine, silly!” They laugh, reaching out toward you.

Your instincts take over as the stranger moves to grab you, and you force your hands into the stone beneath you. Releasing the Geo energy you’d been holding onto, you use the repelling force to launch yourself up off the stairs and at the fool standing before you.

You don’t make contact with them though, stumbling forward into what suddenly becomes thin air and tripping over nothing, sending yourself straight to the ground. Righting yourself before you can even register the impact, your claws tear through the dirt and grass as you turn back to face your opponent on all fours.

You freeze at the sight of them, casually propped against the railing of the stairs, clearly not poised to fight. With no weapon in their hands, and refusing to take on any sort of combative stance, you find yourself locked in a one-sided stand-off.

Not taking their eyes off you, the stranger pats the banister they’re leaning against. “I wasn’t reaching out for you, friend.” As you process their words and the seconds turn into a minute, they make no move to attack you, so you slowly let your guard down. Just slightly. Bending at the knees, you settle in a deep squat on the ground.

When the stranger seems confident enough that you aren’t about to throw yourself at them again, they allow their attention to leave you and fall to the step where you’d just sat. Following their gaze, you notice two handprints now carved into the stone, the very edge of the stair chipped away in places where your claws had caught on it.

You ready yourself for an attack, as this stranger surely won’t take kindly to destruction of, apparently, their property. But they make no move to do any such thing. They simply look back up at you with a knowing smile.

“You take after Morax, I see.”

Up those stairs in that little back bedroom, is where I did my homework and I learned to play guitar.

Smiling and shaking your head at the memory, you make your way into the small home. It’s rather bare, even more so than it had been when you first found the place. The two of you had taken all of your personal possessions with you into the teapot, leaving nothing but the basic furniture behind. After all, you had far better options awaiting you through Tubby’s sub-space creation.

Seeing the cottage in its original state, it once again becomes clear to you just how little Venti had customized the place prior to you moving in. He didn’t, and still doesn’t have much to his name, truly living the life of the wandering bard he identifies as. Most of what he does have he keeps on his person, whether that be in the physical sense, or dematerialized and stored away.

The cottage turned into a bit less of a shelter and more of a home over the many months you spent there with him. You stocked the little kitchen with far more than just his assortment of fruits, and an array of objects you collected from your outings lined the shelves. Looking back now, with a bit more insight on your own mental and emotional states, you venture a guess as to your behavior. You were likely hoarding whatever you found as a means of making up for how long you spent having nothing.

Venti never shamed you for it, even though he likely understood the behavior from the beginning. He was incredibly empathetic, and kinder than you felt you deserved, even once parts of your past became known to him. It took some time, given your struggle to keep up with his words, and the bigger struggle of finding your own. You managed to get it across to him eventually though, and he’d been benevolent enough to take you in.

You come to a stop in the bedroom doorway, surveying the place through the lens of the past.

You remember countless hours spent at the small desk in the corner, hunched over paper with text on it that you couldn’t decipher. Venti stood beside you, one hand on your shoulder, patiently teaching you how to make sense of the symbols you saw.

You remember less stressful hours spent sitting on the floor, curiously plucking at the strings of the bard’s various instruments with your claws. He’d sit on the bed watching you, naming the notes and teaching you how to turn your discordant noise into beautiful music. You were never as good as he was though, and you really didn’t mind. You preferred to listen to him playing, anyway. The bard possessed a beautiful voice, and the soft songs he’d sing to you in the dark of night never failed to put your tormented mind at ease.

Staring at your designated spot on the floor, you laugh at the memory of countless nights spent refusing his invitations. He’d offered his bed to you from the beginning, insisting that you deserved it more than he did. Besides, he said, he was used to sleeping in trees and fields, on barstools and street corners. He claimed he wouldn’t miss the bed at all.

You wouldn’t hear of it. Vehemently denying any offers, you stubbornly slept- atop as many blankets and pillows as you’d allow him to give you- on the floor by his bed like the dog you were. He wasn’t the only one used to sleeping in uncomfortable places, and you weren’t about to lose your edge by getting too comfortable too soon.

You think of the way you woke up this morning, wrapped in soft, warm blankets on a wide, plush mattress, face nuzzled into his neck, arms around his waist.

You’ve both come a long way.

You hear the familiar sound of distant hilichurlian chanting, and make your move to leave, bidding your old bedroom a quiet farewell once again.

Slipping out of the cottage and rounding the side of the building in a few long strides, you narrowly manage to evade their notice. Peeking around the corner, you watch them return to their prior posts. The Anemo Samachurl diligently paces between the trees, its Geo companion keeping watch from the stairs.

You smile, and turn to make your silent departure.

Checking in on your old home had been a successful distraction from the thoughts you’re trying to avoid, but you couldn’t linger there forever. Still, feeling unprepared to return to the teapot and try to put on a brave face for Venti, you find yourself wandering. With no particular destination in mind, you let your feet take you where they may.

You try to think of nothing at all for a while, failing over and over again as your mind searches for something to latch onto. Apparently counting your steps wasn’t entertaining enough for it.

After a while of failing to meditate on your walk, you find yourself leaving grass and stepping onto a dirt path. Looking up and around, you realize you’ve made your way to the road leading to the Thousand Winds Temple.

Turning and looking south, you can see the massive tree at Windrise, off in the distance. Far, far, beyond that, bringing your eyes to the horizon, you can see the snowy peaks of Dragonspine beyond the tall cliff of Galesong Hill. You sigh.

And I bet you didn't know, under that live oak, my favorite dog is buried in the yard.

A few months after arriving in Mondstadt and settling in with Venti, you found yourself exploring the icy riverbank that borders Dragonspine. The stubborn bard, wrapped in the thickest cloak he owned, trudged along behind you.

You’d told him he didn’t have to join you that day, but the thought of you exploring unfamiliar territory without him apparently just didn’t sit right. So, in spite of his occasional grumbles over the increasing cold, he never left your side.

The area was predictably desolate, save for a few Cryo Hilichurl archers lounging on the icy banks like they were on summer vacation. You weren’t looking for a fight that day though, just to explore, so you avoided drawing their attention given the divine company you were in.

Later on, as you were focusing hard on what Pyro energy you could summon in an attempt to melt the ice encasing a chest, you found something far more valuable. Venti saw it first, having been eyeing the surroundings while you were focused on the task at hand. Calling your name, he summoned your attention with ease.

Turning to look at him, your gaze followed his pointed finger and landed on a dog, slowly making its way toward you.

The animal was fairly large, but certainly far from threatening given the state it was in. As it drew closer, Venti lowered himself to his knees in the cold wet grass, suddenly forgoing his prior reluctance to endure the elements. You smiled. It seemed like he’d learned a thing or two from you about dealing with fearful dogs.

You followed suit, crouching down beside him and getting on the dog's level. The shivering animal hesitated, coming to a stop about fifteen feet away. Materializing some fresh meat you’d caught on the journey there, you quietly held it out toward the dog.

It sniffed the air, but refused to move.

Tearing a chunk off, you gently tossed it in the dog’s direction, and it landed a few feet in front of it. Sniffing harder, the animal carefully approached the offering, sticking its head out as far as it could to reach the food and avoid coming closer.

The two of you spent the better part of an hour luring the dog toward you, slowly but surely winning it over with continued offerings of fresh meat.

Upon closer inspection, you were honestly shocked that it was still standing. Skin stretched tight across its ribcage, hip bones two sharp peaks, spine a long mountain range down its back… the thing was clearly starving. You weren’t sure if it was the stress of a difficult life, a sign of old age, or both, but what you assumed had once been black fur was almost white from graying, particularly in its face. It trembled incessantly, and as soon as it came close enough and didn’t seem apt to bolt, Venti untied his cape and wrapped it around the dog, who shockingly didn’t fight it.

Maybe Venti had been serious when he claimed he could talk to animals.

You fed it more bites of meat as the two of you quietly discussed the best way to get it home. Blessedly, once the dog realized that neither of you held malicious intentions, it switched gears surprisingly fast. More than just tolerating your presence, the dog actually began to cling to you, frantically whining when you both stood up, fearful that you’d be leaving it behind.

Abandoning your half-melted treasure, you knew it was time to leave. You were quite a ways from home and you weren’t about to try teleporting the dog in its current state. So instead, you carefully picked her up, frowning at how little she weighed. Venti took the remaining meat and distracted the nervous dog with more offerings of food as you began your long, slow journey home.

“Don’t- don’t feed her too fast. I know she’s hungry but I don’t want to make her sick.”

Venti nodded, tearing off smaller bites. “I remember.” He cryptically confirmed.

You adjusted the dog in your hold, pulling Venti’s cape up around her neck. “…Remember what?”

He suppressed a shiver, but you still noticed. “You ate yourself sick on fruit and raw meat the first night you spent here.”

Your head turned quickly, staring down at him. “You were watching? Even then?”

He nodded, expression solemn. “I followed you home, you know? It just took a few days for you to notice that I was there.”

You walked in thoughtful silence for a while after that, wondering if your scattered senses had failed you, or if he was actually better at hiding his aura than you thought.

The dog lived with the both of you in your little cottage for a few good months. She gradually put on weight, and some life returned to her alongside it. She still moved slowly, though, and you feared she was in pain.

By that point, you’d befriended a timid alchemist with mint-green hair, and sought her assistance. She’d kindly offered you a medicine of her own creation, advising that the dog seemed rather old, and likely suffered from joint pain. You offered her payment in Mora, which she politely refused. You eventually got her to accept a small assortment of bones you’d gathered in exchange, correctly surmising that the offer would be too tempting for her to refuse.

Sucrose’s medicine seemed to help, because the dog moved with noticeably more ease once you began giving it to her. She was far from spry, but she seemed comfortable, so you were content. She was also content, in the precious, innocent way that only a dog can be. Just happy to be alive, happy to be fed, happy to be safe. Happy to be near someone that loves them, and happy to be near someone they love.

“Adagio.” Venti had once said, gently raking his nails through her fur on a warm, sleepy afternoon.

“What’s that?’ It was far from the first time he’d said a word you didn’t know.

“In musical terms, it means played slowly… I think it would be a nice name for her.”

You considered it for a moment, and found it rather fitting, nodding in agreement with a smile. “I like that.”

Adagio spent her days laying in the shade near the cliff’s edge, watching the waves lap at the small shore below. Looking back, you can thank her for teaching Venti that you can survive a half a day on your own. She could hardly chase you all over Mondstadt, or weave her way after Venti through the busy city streets, so when one of you needed to go out for something, the other would stay home with her. One of the two of you were always there, and she never knew the pain of being alone again.

She spent her nights curled between the two of you. She couldn’t make the jump up onto the bed, and you were still stubbornly sleeping on the floor, so Venti made the executive decision to heave the mattress onto the floor as well. As silly of a sight as it may have been to an outsider, the three of you were comfortable, curled together amidst blankets and pillows on the too-small mattress, bed frame abandoned on the other side of the room.

Nothing lasts forever though, and it seemed to you that the best of things were always the quickest to go.

As months passed, her movements went from slow to slower, and she started struggling with more things. She could no longer steady herself to make it up and down the three stairs to your home, so one of you carried her every time. She slept more and moved less, and her love of food began to wane.

This wasn’t your first experience with something like this. Though it had been an awfully long time since you lived through it last, you still knew what was coming.

That didn’t make it hurt any less, though. Not at all.

Both of you sat awake with her through the final night, keeping her comfortable and telling her how much you loved her. You’d never hoped harder that Venti’s communicative abilities held true.

You kept it together until she released her final breath, and when you knew she was gone, you allowed yourself to fall apart.

Up until then, your walls had been an impenetrable fortress. No emotion escaped unless you allowed it. Venti had never seen you cry.

So when your pain escaped you this time, falling in heavy golden tears and landing in her gray fur, he could only stare. He knew this wasn’t his moment to intrude on, so he didn’t. He didn’t rush to wrap you in an embrace, nor did he try to offer any hollow words of comfort. This was pain. This was loss. He was intimately familiar with it, and he knew it had to be felt.

There isn’t a single detail of that night that you don’t recall, and the teal tears that fell next to your golden ones are no exception.

That was the first time you saw him cry, too.

The evening breeze cools the hot golden tracks running down your cheeks. You watch tears fall onto the dirt path beneath you, and then you close your eyes.

You both sat there with what remained of her until the morning sun slipped in through the window. You were surprised when Venti broke the silence, offering to bury Adagio beneath the Windrise tree.

You spoke through a voice thick and strained from your cries. “That’s… that’s a really special place.”

He nodded. “She was a really special dog.”

You wiped the fresh tears from your eyes before they could fall, turning to face him.

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.” He put his hand out, laying it next to Adagio on the mattress. “Unless you’d prefer elsewhere?”

You knew what to do this time. Reaching out and laying your hand in his, you shook your head slowly. “No. I think Windrise would be perfect.”

Opening your eyes, you raise your head to glance once more at the massive tree across the sprawling field. Bidding Adagio another quiet goodbye, you pull in a shaky breath, and turn, heading north.

Walking in silence for a while, you try to let your emotions settle. The tears you just shed seemed to help a little, but the knot in your stomach won’t leave you.

You follow the road a little while longer, but when you find yourself nearing the temple, you take a detour and head west, off the beaten path. You aren’t keen on running into whatever random explorers might be camping there this evening. Besides, the scent of cecilias is on the breeze, and you’d rather follow that instead.

Making your way up the uneven terrain that comprises the base of Starsnatch Cliff, your mind returns to its ruminations over what brought you here today in the first place.

You leave home, you move on, and you do the best you can.

The reason for your reluctance to leave Mondstadt became abundantly clear on the day you finally set out for the neighboring nation. As you left Dawn Winery behind and crossed the border, headed for Stone Gate, it sank in quickly.

Venti wasn’t beside you.

Up until that point, he’d been the literal wind at your back every step of the way. Every commission you completed, every request you fulfilled, every inch of land you explored, he was right behind you. Or beside you, or above you, or in front of you…

Regardless, he was there. Answering your questions, telling you stories, helping you make sense of the unfamiliar. Whether it be words you couldn’t yet read, customs you didn’t yet understand, or emotions you couldn’t yet identify, he was your guide through it all. The Stormterror crisis came and went, as did the… incident with Signora, and the two of you grew ever closer as a result of it all. You could fill a book with the stories of what you two went through in the mere year you spent in this nation. But, as you sat together beneath the Windrise tree one evening discussing it all, it slowly grew clear that it was coming time to move on. As if the notion alone wasn’t stressful enough already, there seemed to be an unspoken understanding that it was a journey you must undertake alone.

So, you did. You’d packed your things, said your temporary goodbyes, and set off on your own without so much as once giving in to the urge to ask him to come along. The goodbyes were, after all, only temporary. You hoped. If you made it through whatever awaited you in Liyue alive, you always planned on returning home.

And you did. Many times.

You, scared as you’d been, made it through the lively adventure that was your initial trip to Liyue, and you’d come out much stronger for it. You found a confidence that you’d forgotten you possessed, forced to show itself once there was no travel companion for you to rely on.

Quite early in your journey, you gathered that you weren’t completely alone anyhow. Sure, in your day-to-day there was no talkative bard trailing behind you, and the nights proved themselves awfully lonely indeed. But Venti’s parting words, “may the wind protect you”, proved themselves surprisingly literal as you took note of one particular Yaksha. After a few nights at Wangshu Inn, and a few bowls of almond tofu shared in relative silence, the man had made himself into your shadow shockingly fast. He never seemed to be around when your gaze searched for him in a crowd, but was always conveniently there the moment you ran into trouble.

Still, in spite of his protection, not to mention your growing, innate connection with the God of your favored element, you longed for home. You longed for your home. You longed for your God.

I got lost in this whole world, and forgot who I am.

So, once the dust, or, well, waves had settled and Rex Lapis had been “officially” laid to rest, you found yourself headed northeast.

In spite of how proud you’d been for making it on your own, all of that crumbled the evening you first crossed back into Mondstadt. You could've used any of the waypoints you’d resonated with, could’ve gone right back home to the cliff overlooking Falcon Coast. But something about that just didn’t feel right. Not for your first return.

Walking the path back toward Dawn Winery, you tried to keep your composure. You tried to not get irrationally emotional over the familiar sight of Anemo crystalflies fluttering over the grape vines. You ignored the warmth in your chest at the sight of soft yellow candlelight illuminating the cottage windows along your path.

Your weakening grip on your emotions completely failed though when you caught sight of a small, green-clad bard, legs dangling from the edge of a rooftop, plucking at his lyre.

You burst into tears on the spot, folding in on yourself and crumpling to the dirt beneath you.

He dropped the nonchalant act instantly, dematerializing from his perch on the rooftop and reappearing beside you in a small, warm burst of Anemo energy that you didn’t see through your tears, but definitely felt. He’d questioned you frantically, worried you were hurt, not understanding what was wrong. Eventually, largely thanks to his embrace, the sobs wracking your form eased enough to assure him that you were fine.

You’d just missed him, was all.

The array of conflicting emotions that flashed in his eyes at the admission would've intrigued you, had you not been so absorbed in your own at the time.

In spite of how badly you craved his company, you’d already proved to yourself that you could travel on your own. So, you continued to. After an extended stay in Mondstadt to recover from your first eventful excursion, you began traveling between the two nations more regularly. Having resonated with most of the waypoints and Statues of the Seven in Liyue as well, it was easy to hop over for the day and still come home to Venti at night.

I thought if I could touch this place or feel it, this brokenness inside me might start healing.

Such was your routine until Madam Ping had introduced you to her Teapots. Adeptal magic was quite the wonder, capable of impressive feats, and the new home offered to you was no exception. When you learned that not only could you live in it, but you could invite others in as well, you were over the moon. You were, of course, reluctant to bid a more permanent farewell to the little house overlooking the sea that you’d grown so familiar with. But when faced with something as convenient and extravagant as the teapot, you could hardly turn it down.

Venti had been more than interested in your offer when you brought the thing home and showed it to him. After bestowing a permanent invitation upon him, he took a liking to the space quite quickly, happy to help make yourselves a new home. Having already been informed of your penchant for Mondstadt, Tubby had crafted a world for you that resembled the land of freedom’s sprawling hills, cliffs, and beaches to an impressive degree. Your new home was far grander than your old one, but with a little time and personalization with what you both brought from the cottage, it really did start to feel like home.

It was… nice, having a safe place to return to every night, regardless of where you were or what you may be caught up in. It was even nicer that Venti seemed to quite enjoy spending time there as well. There’d scarcely been an evening where both of you hadn’t wound up in the teapot together, sharing stories of your respective days over dinner.

Things carried on like that for the remainder of your time in Liyue. You spent more and more time in the land of contracts, and less and less in Mondstadt as a result. Sometimes you’d have reason to return, and somehow you’d almost always run into Venti while you were there. Time spent with him in the teapot was no less real, but it always felt… special, when the two of you were together in Mondstadt again.

Out here, it's like I'm someone else, I thought that maybe I could find myself.

Still, just as it had been with Mondstadt, you couldn’t linger in Liyue forever. You’d built a reputation for yourself there to match your standing in Mondstadt, making a slew of new connections, exploring, finding answers and more questions alike. It was time to move on. Inazuma loomed far, far off on the southern horizon, and it was up to you to make the first step to reach it.

You didn’t want to.

You stood on the docks, looking out at Guyun Stone Forest, and at Beidou’s ship anchored nearby.

You found yourself feeling something you hadn’t felt in a long while. You felt the same as you had when standing atop the celestial nail, only this time it was somehow worse. It scared you. Yes, the prospect of setting off effectively alone to yet another unfamiliar nation, but more than that. It scared you because you thought you’d grown past this. You thought you could handle this. You thought… you thought you’d outgrown this immature sense of homesickness.

You were wrong.

If I could walk around, I swear I'll leave.

That’s how you found yourself here, ambling through the wilds of Mondstadt. You really, really don’t want to leave. But you know that you have to.

You think of the stories you’ve heard in Liyue, of the terrible war raging in the island nation to the south.

You release a shaky breath into the cooling air.

You pray that you’ll make it back alive.

Won't take nothin' but a memory, from the house that built me.

Following the cecilias as their trail grows thicker, you weave your way up to the peak of the massive cliff.

You’re only slightly surprised to see a small figure, dressed in a very familiar shade of green, sitting with their back to you at the very edge.

Tension you didn’t notice you were holding melts from your shoulders at the sight of him.

You do your best to push aside the emotional storm you’ve been caught up in, and you call out to him, playful. “Fancy seeing you here!”

He twists at the waist to face you, following your movement as you approach. “I could say the same, love. What brings you here?”

You laugh softly as you come to a halt beside him. “Well, I could ask the same of you.” You carefully lower yourself to the ground, letting your legs dangle off the cliff beside his. “Figured you’d either still be at the tavern, or were already home wondering where I was.”

You frown. “What didn’t feel right? Are you okay?”

“Oh, I’m fine, Windblume. I’m just fine.”

You aren’t convinced. “Then, uh… do you feel like sharing what isn’t fine?”

His gaze drops to the dark sea below. “I think you know what it is, actually.”

Cryptic as ever, you take a moment to ponder what he might mean. He takes the silence as an opportunity to elaborate. “I never really wonder where you are, you know?”

You glance at him, bemused for a moment before growing serious. “Oh, what, were you- like- watching me today? How… Wait, how long have you been up here, actually?”

He doesn’t look at you, but he shakes his head. “I don’t have to be watching you to know where you are, dear.” The wind tousles your hair. “I’m already everywhere. All the time. If the wind can reach you, I’m there.”

“...Oh. Right.” You let your own gaze fall to the sea. “Maybe I let myself forget sometimes, just how… literal that is.”

You remember the warm sea breeze from this afternoon, the brief gust that cooled your tear-stained cheeks early this evening, and the wind that brought the scent of cecilias down toward you.

“...So you could tell that I was here today.”

“Yeah.” He confirms quietly. “There was something… discordant, blowing in from Falcon Coast this afternoon. It didn’t take long for me to identify you.”

Guilt blooms within you. “Is that when you left the tavern?”

“No, I didn’t head out immediately. I mean- I can hardly turn off my omniscience, but I do still try to give you privacy in spite of it. I figured if you needed me, or… wanted me, you would call out.”

The way he says “wanted” makes your frown deepen.

“But, when the tone of the air only continued to sour as time passed, I did eventually give in to my concern.”

You pluck at the grass beneath you to busy your hands. “I’m sorry for distracting you. I really didn’t mean to, I just…”

He turns to you, cutting you off. “Please don’t say that. I couldn’t care less about losing out on a few mora at the tavern. I care about the fact that you’re out here, crying to yourself, all alone.”

A familiar tension makes itself at home again in your throat. “I…”

You trail off, lost for words. Venti makes up for it though, seeming to suddenly have quite a bit to get off of his own chest. “I can sense the difference between someone who wants to cry on their own, and someone who’s crying because they’re on their own.” His pained voice nearly cracks. “I never thought I’d feel the latter coming from you. But I’ve felt it more than once now, and… I don’t know what to do.”

At his confession, honesty slips out of you, and you can’t hold back the tears that come with it. “I miss you.” You turn to face him, and then look past, gesturing weakly out to the sprawling land of freedom behind you. “I miss this! I miss home! I miss you!” Voice breaking, you choke on your tears and lean into him, crumpling pathetically down onto his lap and curling yourself around him like the needy animal that you are.

His hands settle on you, one on your back and another reaching for your legs, pulling you against him so you don’t slip off the edge. His winds would cradle you if you fell, but he’d rather prevent the problem before it can happen. His own voice is tight with emotion when he speaks. “You have me, love. You- you hold me every night, I bid you goodbye every morning, you can visit Mondstadt whenever you please!”

You shake your head vehemently in his lap, crying harder.

“I’m sorry, love- I- I really don’t understand. In what way do you not have me?”

You practically shout your answer into the fabric of your sleeves, turning your head just enough to pointlessly attempt to wipe your face. “When I leave! I have to leave! I have to leave, and leave you behind, and you aren’t with me, and I’m alone again every time I go!”

One of his hands comes up to carefully comb the damp hair from your face, the black tips now wet with shimmering gold. “When you leave Mondstadt? Like… like when you go to Liyue?”

You nod, almost hyperventilating as your fears spill from you. “I should've never gone there alone! I wanted to ask you, I wanted you to come with me so badly but something told me that I shouldn't ask, that I should go alone, and so I went and I was so fucking scared but- but- but I was fine- I was fine- I made it back alive and so what if I cried every night because I missed you? I had a fucking nation to save it’s not like I could come home crying to you about it! And- and I mean Xiao was there but I- I- I can fight I can hold my own I don’t need protection I need a friend! I need company! I need you! I- I knew I’d be fine but fuck I felt so alone and I missed you, I missed you, I missed Venti, I missed Barbatos, I missed you SO MUCH-” You suddenly heave for air in the middle of your spiel, breathing in too hard and choking on your own spit. Feeling about as vulnerable and pathetic as you’ve ever been, you give in to the misery, grasping for purchase at any part of him you can reach. Your claws dig into the thin fabric of his tights in a way you know you’ll be frantically apologizing for later, but in this moment you can’t bring yourself to stop. You can't bring yourself to do anything but cry, and cry, and cry.

He doesn’t say anything for a few minutes, the only sound he makes instead being a quiet, gentle hush, over and over, focused on calming you down. The cool hand that finds its way beneath your hair and settles on the back of your hot neck feels like heaven, and for a moment you cry harder at the relief. His other hand pets across the broad expanse of your back in slow, rhythmic, sweeping motions.

When your cries have quieted enough for you to focus on his words, he says something that surprises you.

“I’d have gone, if you’d have asked me.”

You hiccup a question. “Wh-what?”

“To Liyue. I would have been more than happy to go with you, if you’d have only asked.” His lithe fingers gently massage at the tension in your neck.

You twist in his hold just enough to look up at him. “Seriously?”

He gives you a weak smile, but it’s more sad than anything. “Of course. The only reason I didn’t invite myself along was because I wanted you to have the freedom to choose. I figured… if I offered to go with you, you might feel obligated to bring me with you.”

You laugh, but there's no humor in it. “This whole time… this whole time I really thought that you didn’t want to go.”

He’s visibly pained by the thought. “Why in the world wouldn’t I?”

You shake your head. “I don’t know… I just figured you had your reasons. It is another nation after all, and I’m still… not too sure how Archons feel about crossing into one another’s territory.” You clear your throat and scrub at your eyes and cheeks with a fist. “Figured maybe you didn’t want to run into Morax or something…”

He laughs, and there’s a bit of life in it this time. “Even the prospect of running into that old block-head wouldn’t be enough to stop me from accompanying you.” He takes your hand in his, stopping your aggressive assault on your messy face. “And while certain Archons might be… less than enthralled to see me again, just because I’m with you doesn’t mean I have to be recognized.”

Your brow furrows. “Venti and Barbatos don’t look all that different…”

He smiles down at you good-naturedly. “True. But I could take another form if it came down to it. Something unrecognizable to even them. If there’s anything I know how to do, it’s how to hide in plain sight and not be found.”

In spite of the tears still staining your cheeks, you give a small smile to your absentee God. “You’d really go to such lengths? For me?”

He gives you a confident nod. “For you and you only, love.”

His hand continues its gentle ministrations across your back, and your muscles gradually relax. You run a hand along the fabric of his tights, waiting for your breaths to come steady. As your senses slowly return to you, your fingertips brush across a few small tears in the material, and you cringe. Venti notices as much, and reassures you. “Hey- It’s alright. Don’t worry about that.”

His words are too late to stop you from raising your head enough to observe the damage, your hand gently cupping his thigh. “I didn’t scratch you… did I?”

“Nope! Just caught the fabric is all.” You aren’t inclined to believe him, given that with his abilities he could’ve healed any minor wounds before you even knew they were there.

You huff, dropping your head to his lap once more. “I’m still very sorry. I’ll buy you-”

“That won’t be necessary-” He tries to cut you off, but your insistence overpowers his own.

“I am buying you a new pair.”

He sighs in reluctant acceptance, knowing better than to challenge you. “Alright, alright. If you insist.”

You lay there for a moment, idly kneading at his thigh and letting the soft sounds of the evening wildlife fill the silence. Still, you struggle to wrap your head around the recent revelation. “You’d really be willing to leave this place?”

He laughs beneath his breath at your disbelief. “I mean, not permanently. If you’ve hatched some plan to move to Snezhnaya that I don’t know about, then I might have to disappoint you…”

You relax further at the familiar, playful edge that returns to his voice. “Nah, nah, nothing like that… just- on my journey away and back. Not- not even every time! Just… sometimes. It… really would’ve been nice to have you by my side the first time, actually, but I know it’s too late for that now. I just… wouldn't have felt so lost.”

His smile fades a bit at the confirmation of a long-held suspicion. You had been missing him as badly as he’d missed you.

You catch the shift in his demeanor, no matter how slight. “...I’m making you sad…”

One of his hands finds yours. “Only at the realization of how oblivious I’ve been.” He laughs, humorless. “All those nights I couldn’t sense you in the wind, all the time I spent wondering if you were okay… you weren’t. You were holed up somewhere, crying, alone, afraid…”

His eyes pinch closed and you squeeze his hand. “It’s not on you. I should’ve been more honest with you before I left.”

He huffs, and then he’s quiet for a moment, thinking. It’s times like these in which you wish you could read him as well as he can read you. “...I could say the same.”

You stare up at him for a moment in confusion. “What do you mean?”

He holds your gaze for a moment and opens his mouth to speak, but seems to think better of whatever he had to say. His focus shifts from you and out to the sea. “...Like I said, I would’ve been happy to follow you. I never should’ve let you grow to believe otherwise.”

You pout just slightly at the less-than-complete sounding answer, but another question overrides your focus. “Is Liyue… the limit?”

The hesitation in your voice gives him pause. “What do you mean?”

“Is Liyue, like, as far as you’re willing to go.”

His eyes brighten in understanding, and you’d collapse from relief at the shake of his head if you weren’t already on the ground.

“Oh! No, not at all. I really meant it when I said I’d risk running into the other Archons for you.”

You release his hand and reach up to pinch the fat of your cheeks between your claws. He pouts, reaching down to stop you. “What’s that for?”

“I’m afraid I’m dreaming or something…”

He laughs properly, a beautiful sound. You crane your neck up to glance southward. The wall of storms barricading Inazuma are still there, an awful sight. You drop your head back to his lap with a heavy sigh.

He pats you gently on the cheek. “You’re wide awake, I assure you.”

Reaching up, you gently bat at the braids that hang at the sides of his face, chewing on your lower lip. He reads you like a book. “I think we’ve learned something this evening, dear.”

“What’s that?”

He catches your hand mid-air, splaying his fingers out and lacing them between yours. “It’s that when we have something to ask of one another, we should do it.”

The corner of your mouth turns up, and you meet his gaze. “Is that your fancy way of telling me to spit it out?”

He giggles. “Maybe.”

You sigh, letting your gaze drift away from him and up to the stars far, far above. “Would you be so kind… as to accompany this scared old dog all the way to Inazuma?”

You close your eyes, waiting for a “no.”

It never comes. Instead, he squeezes your hand in his, and you’re shocked to hear relief in his tone when he answers you. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Your eyes flicker open, unsure. “Is… is that a yes?”

He nods vehemently. “It is.”

The tears that spring to your eyes catch you by surprise. He wipes them away with his thumb as they fall. Sniffling, you question him again. “There’s- There’s a whole war going on over there right now, you know?”

The blue in his braids brightens, and in the dark of the early night, you notice the same turquoise light begin to shine from his chest, beneath the thin fabric of his white shirt. “I’m no stranger to war.”

You reach up, tracing a gentle finger across where you know one of his Archon marks to be. “...That you aren’t.”

His thumb swipes across the black star at the base of your neck, half hidden by your collar. “...Guess that makes two of us, huh.”

It’s a rhetorical question, but you hum in confirmation nonetheless. Rising from your spot on his lap, you wiggle your way around until you’re seated beside him properly again. Reaching an arm out, you wrap it around his shoulders, and he leans into you. Both of you stare out across the sea, watching the lightning flash in the storm to the south.

“I don’t even know what I’m gonna be able to do to help.” You sigh. “But I know I have to go.”

One of his hands finds yours again. “Whatever may come, I consider it an honor to fight alongside you.”

You bark a laugh, shaking your head at the notion. “Hey now, I just asked you to come with me, I never said anything about putting you in the line of fire.”

He smiles. “I know, I know, but still… if it comes down to it-”

“If it comes down to that, I’m hauling you over my shoulder and taking us both home.” You cut him off in a no-nonsense tone.

Your seriousness doesn’t cause his mirth to falter. “I fear I’m gonna be the one dragging you home if we run into Signora while we’re there.”

A low growl reverberates from your chest at the mere mention of her. “We’ve still got a score to settle.”

He pats you on the thigh placatingly, humor in his words. “Darling, how many times must I reassure you? I let her take it from me.”

“Still, she didn’t have to be so fucking rough about it. I’m not after the gnosis. She made this personal.” You snarl.

His soft laughter subsides as he shakes his head, but he doesn’t argue.

The two of you watch the lightning show for a short while, before you grow tired of the dreadful sight and opt to focus on something better. Unwrapping your arm from the God at your side, you stifle a laugh as he voices his sudden startled displeasure. You apologize as you reposition yourselves, moving away from the edge a bit and turning the both of you around. “Sorry about that, didn’t realize you’d almost fallen asleep on me.”

He pouts. “Can you blame me? You’re warm, and it’s been a stressful day… and speaking of-”

You nod. “I know. We should be getting home soon. But- look.” You point at the beautiful sight of Mondstadt City, lit up for the night, a beacon of hope and freedom standing strong in the distance. “Isn’t that a sight worth sticking around a little longer for?”

He sighs in content as you pull him against you once more. You can’t feel the swell of pride in his chest at the sight, but you can hear it in his voice. “It sure is.”

Lifting his hat from his head and placing it in his lap, you comb your fingers through his hair, finding your own satisfaction in the way he melts against you. The two of you admire the city for a long few minutes, and a thought occurs. “As much as I want you beside me… I feel bad taking you from your people.”

He shakes his head and the motion tickles as his hair brushes against your chin. “They don’t need me, love. At least, not in the day-to-day sense.” He huffs. “Honestly, I think the most prominent place that my presence will be missed is the tavern, and that’s of little consequence in the grand scheme.”

You know he’s right, but the guilt still nags at you. “I guess…”

He leans away just enough to turn and look you in the eye. “You are one of my people too, you know?”

You hold his gaze, considering it. Have you really been here long enough, or made a big enough impact on the region to be bestowed with such an honorary title? “...I suppose I do.”

He reaches up and cups your cheek, eyes pleading. “Then let me be there for you.”

You breathe a sigh of acceptance. “...Okay.” You turn your head and plant a quick kiss against his palm before he can pull away.

He lets his hand drop, but doesn’t turn away. “I’m really sorry that you’ve been carrying all of this pain with you for so long. I should have questioned you on it sooner.”

You pick his hand up from his lap, taking it in yours. “It’s not your fault. At least, certainly not anymore than it is mine. I should've just asked you to come, the worst thing you could’ve said was no.”

“I still hate that you even thought I might’ve said no. I… should have made my willingness clearer.”

“Nah, I mean, after a year of following me around Mondstadt I think you were quite clear. I’m just… dense.” You summon a few tiny Geo shards in your palm before allowing them to crumble into a shimmering pile of dust. “Comes with the territory, I suppose.”

Venti scoffs. “Well if you’re dense, then I’m diffuse.” A tiny gust of Anemo swoops in and lifts the dust from your outstretched palm, scattering it to the wind.

You watch your two energies mix and dissolve into the night air. “I guess they do say that opposites attract.”

He hums. “That they do, love.”

You expect him to turn back toward the city, and he almost does, but then he hesitates, and calls you by name. “I want you to remember something.”

Your interest piques, brows raising above tired, lidded eyes. “And what’s that?”

His tone is serious. “You are not alone. Ever. Not if you don’t want to be. I don’t want you hesitating to call on me ever again. If you need me, if you want me, I’m there. No exceptions.” Maybe it’s the day’s exhaustion catching up with you, but the light in his eyes feels like a beacon, guiding you home. “You don’t ever have to be alone again. Remember this, please.”

Something warm blooms in your chest, and it’s in this moment that you realize the knot in your stomach has loosened. It isn’t gone, but it’s hardly noticeable anymore, and you finally breathe easy. You hold his gaze for a moment before nodding, serious. “I will.”

He brings his hand up, holding his pinky out toward you. “Promise?”

You smile, reaching out and wrapping yours around his. “Promise.”

He exhales, satisfied. “You wanna stay out here a bit longer?”

You open your arms in invitation. “I’d love to.”

Shuffling around once more, you help situate him between your legs, pulling him back against your chest.

“Alright, but don’t hold it against me if I fall asleep out here. You make for quite the comfortable bed, you know.”

You smile, nuzzling into his hair and breathing him in. The heavy scent of fermentation he once carried is now nothing but a faint whisper. “I won’t mind.” Lifting your gaze from the distant city lights, you quietly admire the stars above. “Not at all.”

A/N: Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed! You can find my commentary on this fic in the notes right here on Ao3. For more info on my OC Saoirse (aka this fic's "Reader"), along with links to various relevant playlists and moodboards, you can find it all here, in the notes of my fic series "This Is Unconditional." This is fic 4 of 16 that I'm doing based on combining prompts from this list! [Day 6 (Singing) & Day 21 (Memory)] Header Image Source: Me, for once! It's an in-game screenshot that I took myself.

#venti #venti x reader #genshin impact #genshin #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact venti #genshin venti #barbatos #genshin fanfic #attempt number 2 at posting this.. now with fewer tags incase that was the problem last time #i did Not spend the last 6 nights editing it and meticulously preparing the drafts on here and Ao3 for it to not be seen #i have no clue what made it not show up in the tags but i'm gonna try this and if it wasn't that (or just a random incident)#then i'll split it in half and post in in two parts. maybe 11k is overwhelming for Tumblr's system or smthn idk man #i feel like the 'Venti is an adult' mention is unnecessary but i slapped it up there anyways for all of you Short = Minor buffoons 🙄#i. actually can’t think of much else to ramble abt in the tags bc like. i already did that on Ao3 😭 and linked all the playlists and stuff #i’m not just trying to push my Ao3 acct on ppl when i always link to it in the end notes it’s just that i draft my fics up over there first #so by the time i’m drafting them here on Tumblr i’ve simply run out of yap

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