[ Venti sits cross-legged at the base of Venessa's tree, as he often does, lyre in hand as he picks a slow and distracted melody. The Traveler is off to unknown lands -- for Inazuma is no longer the familiar and welcoming place Venti remembers visiting long ago -- and things in Mondstadt are blessedly peaceful. The Knights uphold their duties, Diluc brews his wine and defends the city by night, and Dvalin soars freely through the skies.
Still, the news out of Liyue sits like a stone (ha!) in his stomach. "Rex Lapis is dead," say Liyue merchants who've come to trade their wares for valuable Mondstadt wines. "Did you hear the news about Morax?" the Fatui "diplomats" whisper to themselves behind their hands.
(The wind hears everything.)
He knows he must go to Liyue himself, to confirm beyond a doubt, to offer his condolences to the Adepti, to pay last respects as he and Morax always did for the other five. But he continues putting it off, getting drunk in taverns and pranking locals and doing performance after performance -- anything to keep busy. In moments like this one, though, there's nothing but his lyre, the Anemo crystalflies, and his thoughts.
His thoughts he would very much like to turn off.
His fingers strike a discordant chord and he grimaces, head thunking back against the trunk of the tree. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
outofoffice) wrote2021-09-29 04:25 pm
no subject
Still, the news out of Liyue sits like a stone (ha!) in his stomach. "Rex Lapis is dead," say Liyue merchants who've come to trade their wares for valuable Mondstadt wines. "Did you hear the news about Morax?" the Fatui "diplomats" whisper to themselves behind their hands.
(The wind hears everything.)
He knows he must go to Liyue himself, to confirm beyond a doubt, to offer his condolences to the Adepti, to pay last respects as he and Morax always did for the other five. But he continues putting it off, getting drunk in taverns and pranking locals and doing performance after performance -- anything to keep busy. In moments like this one, though, there's nothing but his lyre, the Anemo crystalflies, and his thoughts.
His thoughts he would very much like to turn off.
His fingers strike a discordant chord and he grimaces, head thunking back against the trunk of the tree. ]
Ughhh-- c'mon! Get it together.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
dw notifs . . .
dw has been v hungry for them recently
1/2
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)