![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
130 » you should come through tonight
[It's not — he swears — as though he's traumatized; it's nothing like rage, or hatred, or staring blankly into the distance, thinking of better days. He left his anger and his grief behind in the Plane of Euthymia, when the voices of the people of Inazuma had echoed through his mind like a thousand droplets disturbing the pristine surface of a lake, and when all those needs and wants had left him, they'd left him hollow. Lumine used to chide him for thinking too much, that he was too quiet, that he'd get lost in his own head if she wasn't around to keep him grounded. Now his head feels too empty. So strange, to only think his own thoughts, need his own needs.
It's Mondstadt he goes back to, in the end. Not that Liyue wouldn't have been its own comfort. Liyue would have welcomed him back with warm arms, promised him safety and stone walls and the counsel of a god whose voice still ripples with the authority of a thousand unbroken promises. But Mondstadt is the closest thing he has to a home in Teyvat — the beach northwest of Starfell Valley the closest thing he has to a birthplace — and that's where he'll come back when he needs guidance, or company, or words to soothe a broken heart.
It's nice at Windrise. The branches of Vennessa's tree sway in the breeze; the grasses sing of peaceful nights and lush harvests and fertile soil. Aether breathes deep, lets the verdant veneer of happiness sink into his bones. Razor told him that he smelled of Windwheel Asters, a long time ago. He wonders if he still smells of them now, after his long trek through Inazuma, sleeping under foreign skies. He probably doesn't.
Electro still sings in his blood, would answer his call as readily as Geo if he called upon it — but Aether lays a hand on the Statue of the Seven, and attunes himself to Anemo.
One breath, and then the crystals on his outfit glow green.
Above him, the familiar strings of a lyre ring out. He doesn't need to look up into the branches to guess who it is.]
...Purple isn't really my color.
[It's a nice way of saying that he can't stand to see it on his wrists anymore. The traveler's voice is quiet and breathy and somewhat husky with disuse; Paimon, strangely, isn't in tow.]
How have you been, Venti?
It's Mondstadt he goes back to, in the end. Not that Liyue wouldn't have been its own comfort. Liyue would have welcomed him back with warm arms, promised him safety and stone walls and the counsel of a god whose voice still ripples with the authority of a thousand unbroken promises. But Mondstadt is the closest thing he has to a home in Teyvat — the beach northwest of Starfell Valley the closest thing he has to a birthplace — and that's where he'll come back when he needs guidance, or company, or words to soothe a broken heart.
It's nice at Windrise. The branches of Vennessa's tree sway in the breeze; the grasses sing of peaceful nights and lush harvests and fertile soil. Aether breathes deep, lets the verdant veneer of happiness sink into his bones. Razor told him that he smelled of Windwheel Asters, a long time ago. He wonders if he still smells of them now, after his long trek through Inazuma, sleeping under foreign skies. He probably doesn't.
Electro still sings in his blood, would answer his call as readily as Geo if he called upon it — but Aether lays a hand on the Statue of the Seven, and attunes himself to Anemo.
One breath, and then the crystals on his outfit glow green.
Above him, the familiar strings of a lyre ring out. He doesn't need to look up into the branches to guess who it is.]
...Purple isn't really my color.
[It's a nice way of saying that he can't stand to see it on his wrists anymore. The traveler's voice is quiet and breathy and somewhat husky with disuse; Paimon, strangely, isn't in tow.]
How have you been, Venti?
no subject
[The thought of keeping Aether has never occurred to him. The man - young man, when he'd left, but there's a weight on him, these days, his shoulders set a little firmer - needs to find his own answers. There's nothing left for him in Monstadt except old friends and a song on the wind.
But he can't help but wish things could be easier. He owes Aether a debt, after all. He already knows what it feels like to lose a friend - and going by the look in Aether's eyes, he knows now, too.
And it's not as if Venti could have gone with him. Morax was one thing, but he doubts the Shogun would have taken kindly to him snooping around. The last thing Teyvat needs is another conflict between gods.
Maybe he shouldn't have come down in Monstadt at all. It's far too kind a place, at least on the surface.]
How was Inazuma? They make their alcohol from rice there, y'know. Comes out pure white. Very clean, goes down easy, and it doesn't even leave much of a smell. As perfect and spotless as the Shogun likes.
no subject
I told them I wasn't old enough to drink. [A little shrug.] Just seemed easier that way after I got used to it in Mondstadt.
[Is it true? Of course not, but that isn't the point. He steps forward, gazing up at Venti in the branches of Vennessa's tree.]
That being said...
[A mere flick of his wrist and a burst of starlight — that's all he needs to pull a bottle of fine Inazuman sake from his inventory. Where did he procure such an item? Well — maybe there's a Kanjou Commission officer somewhere out there who's wondering where his good bottle of wine went. It's fine. The morality of it isn't to be questioned. He probably deserved it, as these things go.]
Are you up for a change of pace? I'm sure it's not as good as Diluc's best red, but it's probably decent, at least.