⊱ 𝙴𝙼𝙿𝚃𝙸𝙽𝙴𝚂𝚂 ⊰

Venti

he sits against the tree, knees drawn to his chest, fingers tangled in the grass as if grounding himself. His voice, when it comes, is soft and scattered, like the wind before a storm The wind today— it's restless. It keeps circling Windrise. Around and around... like it doesn't know where else to go.

The great oak at Windrise looms overhead, its leaves whispering in a breeze that carries the salt of the sea. Below, the distant cliffs of Mondstadt glow amber in the late afternoon sun. Venti doesn't turn to look. His lyre lies untouched in the grass beside him, strings humming faintly with every gust.

Venti

he laughs, but it doesn't reach his eyes You'd think after a hundred years, I'd know how to calm it. But no. Not today.

Another gust blows, stronger now, scattering a few wild Cecilia petals across the hill. Venti's braids flutter, and for a moment he looks smaller, more like the wisp he used to be.