#been writing a lot of nameless bard angst so I thought I'd keep it fresh
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a sad memory for Cecilia?
(this one includes massive spoilers for the Sumeru archon quest for anyone who might not have played that yet lmfao)
The trip to Sumeru was an arduous one with the world now flipped upon its head by a threat they gave their all to quell as divine protectors of Teyvat.
Success meant everything and nothing at the same time as Barbatos finds his reasons for making the journey in the first place even more desolate than the tattered world around him.
They had won, but at what cost?
He teeters between these two ideals—wonder and gratitude.
Wonder, because perhaps total annihilation would've been the better end. Because then there'd be no more pain—no one left to cry out for a savior in the empty, broken streets of the land he'd cultivated like seeds now withering away.
Gratitude, because he knows deep down that his bard would've hated to see it end this way—would've hated for such suffering to continue with no cheerful reprise to this haunting elegy.
Barbatos pulls his white robe tightly around him with the bright memory of that young bard in his mind and moves on, limping along the path with his head down, hood up, and his wounds fruitlessly covered.
The pitstop he made at Windrise several hours earlier did what it could to stave off the corruption, but he didn't feel quite alone in his thoughts as he passed through Liyue, and he certainly doesn't feel much safer now as he treks onward through the rainforest.
Needless to say, he's not of sound body or mind to be going through with this. None of the remaining gods are, but... as one of the final few, this is far too important.
And it is only the first stop of many.
There is no designated resting place yet made for the archon he is visiting. In fact, the people likely don't even know their god has fallen trying to preserve it all just yet.
But the wind is quiet now. The leaves hardly rustle as he sends gales through the trees, and the sand hardly kicks up as zephyrs blow their way around the desert in search for her, his old friend.
The gods always realize when one of their own has fallen. Though he is greatly weakened from the war, he always knows when they've taken their last breath.
And so, tenderly, he pulls out a cecilia he had tucked away within the long shirtsleeve of his robe as he pauses at last somewhere between the forest and the desert. Any location will do, he knows, because the soil and sand he now walks on is in all of its entirety... her home. He knows she will be greatly remembered by the people here.
And greatly missed, too.
"I'd sing you a song of parting," he murmurs hoarsely, clutching at his side as he bends down to place the flower upon the ground. "But I'm not quite in shape enough to do so. I hope the sentiment behind a lone cecilia will be enough."
And then he laughs pitifully into the open air, a drop of salty rain not from the endless sky above now spilling onto the grains at his feet and clumping them up by his toes.
"Oh, of course it is, knowing you and your infinite insight," he whispers out shakily. "Rest well..."
"Greater Lord Rukkhadevata."
****
"Barbatos," addresses the dendro archon. He can see the weight of a question behind her emerald eyes—something pressing that must be eating her up inside. But there are more important matters to tend to first.
"No need to be so formal with me, Buer," he teases a little, taking a small bow. "For I am Venti, the best bard of the mortal realm! You needn't call me anything else."
"Well then, Venti," the archon corrects. "May I ask you something not as Buer, the God of Wisdom, but rather... as Nahida, your friend?"
"Only for an apple," he replies jokingly before softening, the sincerity in his eyes sparkling like morning dew on flower petals. "But since this is our first official meeting post-imprisonment, I'll answer anything you like for free. Though I'm surprised that, as the God of Wisdom, you'd want to hear it from me."
The girl puts her hands behind her back shyly. "While I have unlimited access to Irminsul for information on any topic I please, this isn't something I want to research," she explains, looking at her feet. "I wanted to ask a more... reliable source."
Venti's brow furrows with confusion he won't say aloud.
More reliable than Irminsul?
With a deep breath in and out, the archon asks her question.
"What kind of person was I to you predating the Cataclysm? And no, I don't need tales of any gallant deeds, or what kind of god I was, because I've heard plenty of those from my supporters," she clarifies before looking up at Venti with large eyes filled to the brim with a form of luck even she herself must not understand.
"What I'm asking is... who was I to you?"
And though she doesn't remember any of it—any of the grief, the sorrow he felt as he made his rounds searching for signs of life from the original seven, something, anything—he can only be grateful that through it all, he was wrong to pronounce her dead when he initially found no traces of her.
She's alive, he had thought with a warm exhale of relief when he heard the news of her return.
She's alive...
#genshin impact venti#genshin venti#venti genshin impact#venti#venti ask blog#ask venti#greater lord rukkhadevata#nahida#genshin nahida#dendro archon#genshin buer#cecilia flowers#cecilia#sumeru#sumeru spoilers#y'see what makes it sad is the fact that Venti can't remember the person he was mourning haha hahahaha#I'm definitely sane#been writing a lot of nameless bard angst so I thought I'd keep it fresh
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