kaisou | Text | UN: makeitaventi

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Text | UN: makeitaventi

WHO: Venti and all of y'all!
WHERE: Network
WHEN: Near the end of May
WHAT: There's a new grandpa in town, and he's marginally more well-adjusted than Zhongli! Marginally. This one at least knows how to manage his finances.
WARNINGS: This will be a little cursed most likely, and probably language!

So this is a weird, new app! Since I can't delete this thing, I'm gonna guess that it's not some weird community thing for Kaisou, right? Like a FB group for people to get strongarmed into--I mean join?

Guess it wouldn't hurt too much to intro myself since I'm new here. I'm Venti! I just moved here like. Today. Lovely place, the Spirit Vein up above really sets the mood!

Okay, so here's an icebreaker for you guys, just to have a little bit of fun!

Is cereal a soup? Alternatively, how do you say the word 'pecan?'

And a friendly reminder that bananas are berries, but strawberries aren't berries!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Venti does none of that. He doesn't scream, or swear, or rant, but the tears do fall. He cares about his friend and he knows that Zhongli doesn't understand that. Not because he doesn't have the capacity to, but because he's just... too sedentary. Venti wonders, sometimes, if it's simply that the brunet doesn't want to feel because then that means admitting something's wrong.

He listens to what's said, and he takes a few deep, steadying breaths. When he pulls back just enough to look at Zhongli's face, it's easy to see that he's just... sad. Understanding. Venti wouldn't have sold his freedom, but he understands not wanting to bury someone you love a second time.

Yet, it's because of that that Venti needs to ask a question.]

I'm gonna ask you a question, and it's gonna hurt, but I'm asking because I need to know if you've thought about it. Signing away your freedom like that....

[His voice is gentle, for the first time since he's been here, yet it hitches for a moment there. Venti closes his eyes, turning his head to clear his throat and taking a second to collect himself. Then, his eyes open and he looks at Zhongli's face.]

What would Azhdaha say now, if he could see you?

[God knows, that's a question he asks himself almost every day about his late best friend.]

[Those bright green eyes filled with tears are an extremely volatile weapon. Even Zhongli, who is normally unmoved by such things, is feeling himself waver a little bit. But only a little. There is nothing he will do to jeopardize a contract, especially one written fairly. He already told Jusis as much.

Venti's tone is... surprisingly gentle, though. Funny enough that only makes what he's saying seem worse.]

... You don't have to mince your words with me. It doesn't suit you, and we've known each other for too long.

[He says this like they weren't just fighting two hours ago in front of God and everyone. This is just how they are, though. It's comforting and familiar, like his favorite coat.]

Ah.

[Venti was right; that one stings. His amber eyes shift to the side, and then he closes them.]

Venti... Azhdaha as we knew him no longer exists. Even if I were to end my contract by the terms I negotiated, we could never go back to the way things were.

[He doesn't see a point in thinking about things like that.]

In our other lives, he assumed I would end him when he began to erode. As if it were that simple... In other words, I think he wouldn't approve of keeping him alive. Is that the answer you were seeking?

[His words seem sharp on paper, but he's just... tired... of arguing about something he can't change.]

The arrangement I made suited all of us. Azhdaha kept his life, if not his memories. The Black Order gained my strength. And as for myself... well, you may call my motivations selfish if you like. Sooner or later, the Black Order would have come for us-- for Azhdaha. There's no other option when our immortal kin descend into madness and become dangerous.

If you had also...

[He stops. Maybe they shouldn't go down that road.]

... Your ignorance of the truth protected you. That's all I can say.

[Venti listens, searching familiar amber eyes for... anything, honestly. Anything at all that could indicate that Zhongli is actually listening to what he's saying.

But he's not. He's not listening. Zhongli has given up.

Venti waits until the end, and he's quiet for another long moment. Then, he nods as if to himself and puts both hands on either side of Zhongli's face, staring him dead in his amber eyes. Forcing him to face Venti.]

They muzzled you, told you to kill whoever they wanted, and you let them. They took your heart, told you they didn't need it anymore, and you let them. They clipped your wings, took your freedom, and you let them.

[He shakes his head, but his eyes, watery as they are, are still trained on the other man's eyes.]

But I see now that you're hearing me, just not listening to me. The wind has been trying to get the mountain to listen, but instead the mountain just pretends that the winds don't exist. Perhaps the mountain has forgotten what the sky looks like. Or perhaps the mountain has never wanted the new winds and only longed for the old, because it's comfortable.

[It hurts to say all of this, especially knowing that Zhongli just... might not listen to him still. Another tear falls and Venti has to take a deep breath.]

What I'm asking is what would he say if he saw you right now? The Azhdaha you knew in this life. Would he have told you to sell away your freedom? Would he have told you to suffer in silence, taking every indignity that the Order throws on top of you alone?

[More frustrated, angry, hurt tears are falling at his point and he doesn't care. He can't care because he needs Zhongli to at least think.]

Stop using my ignorance as a shield to hide behind! Whether I remembered or not, none of that stopped me from caring about you! You're my best and oldest friend, and I bet that we were the same in that other life, too. Why won't you let me help you?

[Again, throughout all of this, Venti doesn't scream or shout. His voice gets a bit choked up with emotion at points, but... it hurts to see Zhongli like this. It hurts and infuriates him that someone took advantage of his friend to make this contract.]

[To his credit, Zhongli doesn't look away once Venti's commanded his attention again. They muzzled you, his old friend says, and the brunet just... takes it quietly. He's listening, maybe vaguely unsettled, but he's still just weathering it all like he expected this. On some level he'd been prepared for a long time.

But then Venti goes on about the wind. There's nothing cute or cheeky about this metaphor. There's... the beginning of some realization in his odd amber eyes, eyebrows rising slightly. That emphasized word, comfortable, slides in as easily as a knife between the ribs. The tears are even worse. He raises one hand to wipe an errant tear with his glove, thumbing at Venti's cheek unconsciously.]

... That isn't right. [He's protesting the metaphor. Not the other stuff. All of that about the Black Order? He won't deny it.] The mountain in your story-- it only ever wished for the wind to return to its side. Whatever form it took, the mountain was simply grateful for its presence.

[But oh, he's listening. Because the moment Venti says the Azhdaha in this life, he's transported right back to the most halcyon of autumn days. He recalls the softness of Azhdaha's skin as he took Zhongli's hand, contradicting the firmness of his grip, and said:

I understand you fear for the boy. Let me help you, Zhongli. Consider his point of view for a moment. How can he think of life as something precious if he only ever sees your suffering? Will he not believe he is a burden?

He blinks that memory away. Venti's teary eyes fill his gaze, filled with anguish and grief in a way that Zhongli hasn't seen in this life. Not even once. But... he remembers... far enough back, there was something... wasn't there?

Does Venti think he is a burden because all he's seen is Zhongli's suffering...?

Why won't you let me help you? Venti's question echoes in his empty brain a little, framed by falling ginkgo leaves and the taste of ancient tea left in his mouth. Zhongli searches the face in front of him for something, as if he might find the answer to those demanded questions in his eyes. But he finds nothing.

He's so tired.

Without much preamble, he simply leans forward and rests his forehead against Venti's chest, the rest of him limp. After a moment his arms wrap around the bard's middle. He's said nothing out loud, but his body language says he's given up, like a half-dead animal approaching a strange human for help.]

Edited 2023-05-30 05:50 (UTC)

[The attempt to wipe away his tears is appreciated, though the gentle correction has Venti swallowing down a noise that might suspiciously have been one of pain. A burning question is on his lips that has even him scared, and he's never been one to shy away from asking before. Perhaps in metaphor, Zhongli has already answered this question, but he wants to hear it plain.

Was their entire friendship dependent on the fact that Venti was the reincarnation of Barbatos?

It's a question he bites back against asking. Partially from fear, but mostly because he doesn't want to address his own pain with that right now. It's already a lot just trying to unpack some of Zhongli's, and he's putting his friend over himself.

Despite his small frame compared to his friend, Venti's able to keep himself surprisingly steady as he holds up Zhongli's weight. With his arms around the brunet's head and shoulders, he sniffs softly and pets his hair. Stars above, this man knows how to break his heart in a million different ways.

He takes a few deep, steadying breaths as he tries to stop the flow of his own tears. After a moment, Venti starts to hum softly. An ancient lullaby that he hasn't given voice to since his parents died. It feels appropriate right now, when Zhongli is at the end of his rope and seeking help, seeking comfort, if only at the basest level.

Who is the wind to deny the tired mountain a chance to finally rest?

So, instead, he hums his lullaby, and then he begins to quietly sing the words to it. A language he hasn't spoken since leaving Wales, yet still he remembers the meaning of the words and how to say them. For Zhongli, he sings because he has truly and fully believed that music has the power to heal the soul since picking up his very first instrument.]

[That's a painful question that Zhongli knows the answer to, but he's not thinking about it right now. He thinks his metaphor was enough. That's how Venti likes to speak, isn't it? Riddles and rhymes and songs. Sometimes it's better to try to... speak someone's language when you want them to understand something. Either way, it's something they definitely need to discuss later.

At the moment it'd be a miracle if Zhongli is able to say anything. In the absence of some deep-seated fury, and when he's faced with an onslaught of emotion that he can't begin to process and doesn't know where to start, he simply won't try. His eyes remain dry, but that's not a surprise. Who can squeeze tears from a stone?

The darkness behind his eyelids is soon broken by Venti humming a song. It's... it has to be an old one, because Zhongli's never heard it before. Is this from Venti's childhood? He doesn't want to ask. He feels like... if he acknowledges it, if he accepts what's happening, it'll shatter the dream. After all, he's never been allowed to have any sense of paradise for very long.

The curious thing about Venti's music is that it has always had the power to move hearts, but the healing magic—that is extraordinary. Zhongli's not wounded in the traditional sense but he can feel the gentleness of the wind wrapping around him anyway, tousling his hair, tugging playfully at the lapels of his coat.

No one's asking him to do anything at this moment. There is a bigger war to be waged, battles to be strategized and fought, philosophies to be debated... but he's so tired.

At the end of the day, he's not a mountain but a lone stone standing tall in a field determined to cast some shade... and he doesn't realize there are trees behind him. What he's doing isn't necessary. But he's stood here for thousands of years, and he thinks he needs to be here a thousand more.

Then some windy imp flies by and pushes him into the mud. He's trying to decide if he wants to bother getting up after all of that.

He's forgotten how to ask for help. If it isn't in the defense of his people or his loved ones, he can't fathom such a request. Up until this point he's fought for himself as necessary, and he thought he had the strength. It's only in this moment that he begins to realize that perhaps he can't even be trusted with that.

But what is the alternative? Freedom? Freedom is a terrifying concept full of unknowns, utterly unimaginable by a man who plots his path with constants. Zhongli has always distinguished himself by his relationship with other things. Absent of that other thing, he has a hard time defining his own edges.

Eventually his grip on Venti loosens but he stays where he is. He feels very small in Venti's hold, not at all like the figure whose memories he inherited. Instead Zhongli was brought low by a mere gust of wind. How laughable...

It's only after the lullaby has faded that he finally manages to collect himself. He sits up slightly, but when he speaks, he keeps his voice low. This is only for Venti to hear.]

... In a time before history, a time before memory for most, there was a dragon who soared through the skies of his home. He danced among the clouds and played with the wind until all the troubles of the world demanded their attention, and then he descended to the ground below.

At some point between that world and this one, he lost the ability to fly. It wasn't that his wings were clipped; he simply never had them in the first place.

[He's speaking in metaphor, except for the part where he is very much a dragon who can't fucking fly. (Just a smaller one.)]

How does one dream of a freedom they've never truly known?

[He takes one of Venti's hands in both of his.]

How many times must I prevail upon you to teach me?

[Venti puts his heart into every song, every piece of music he plays. In this lullaby, he sets aside pain and turns it into comfort. Something to soothe the soul, to invite it to rest. That the wind responds to his singing has always been a source of delight for him, no matter how many years pass him by, and he tries to pass that wonder on to the people around him.

A gust doesn't have to push. It can fill one's wings and let them soar, if they let it.

As his song fades on the breeze, he's silent and still. Venti lets his friend go to let him sit up. He listens as Zhongli speaks. The bard lets his hand be taken, eyes on the brunet's face. In answer, he places a gentle hand on one of Zhongli's. His voice is equally low, but gentle.]

I'll teach you as many times as you need me to. Not because of who we were, but because of who we are. I'll teach you to fly, what it means to be free, but it's never been a gentle or easy journey.

[His green eyes try to meet amber again.]

What do you want to do? Not Morax or Rex Lapis or the Zhongli of the past. You, here, in this moment. It's okay if it's simple or short-term, like sleeping or eating.

[As many times as he needs to, huh...

Hasn't Zhongli tested his patience enough?

He looks at their joined hands. They don't do this a lot. The last time was probably Venice. It's not... unpleasant, but it's unfamiliar. He wonders how much the wind can accept the cold, unyielding grasp of stone. He wonders if he's hurting Venti simply being this close.

It's never been gentle or easy? Neither has living. Zhongli has walked a long, arduous path of his own making.

... Still, his fingers curl a little around the bard's hand.

What does he want in this moment? That's difficult. Freedom and everything like it... those are lofty concepts. So, following Venti's advice, he focuses on the now.]

I...

[THIS IS HARD GIVE HIM A MOMENT]

... I want to enjoy a glass of wine with an old friend, [he says finally.] I want to hear about the things he's learned, the places he's seen, and the songs he's sung since last we met.

There are some things that I cannot see or imagine from my position. ... Your words always added a few colors to the painting.

[Totally straight things to say to your best friend right.]

[Venti watches this friend's expression, how the wheels grind slowly together as he thinks. He has to wonder how much of that is purely because he's tired rather than just being Zhongli. There's a false start, but the bard is patient with his friend. He's had to learn the hard way a long time ago that there's simply no rushing Zhongli.

His eyes soften. This, at least, feels genuine. So, Venti nods.]

Okay. I'd be happy to have a glass of wine with you, and tell you all about the adventures I've had since waking up. I'll weave for you a tapestry in song and words.

[He pauses, and then makes a little joke at his own expense to try to lighten the mood.]

Eh, maybe not the time I was in the States during the Prohibition Era, though. That was probably my lowest!

[There really is no rushing a mountain. He has always gone at his own glacial pace. Which is why it's taken this long for him to even begin to admit that he can't imagine being free. He hasn't said he wants to be free, but it's between the lines. That's progress.

He looks relieved, though, when Venti agrees. He'd been expecting... more scolding, maybe. Yet Venti hasn't pulled away from him, and neither has Zhongli relinquished his hand. How is it that things always become a stalemate between these two?]

All right.

[The joke falls flat, but that's okay. Because what comes out of his mouth next isn't a retort but just something that... happens. It just tumbles out.]

—I missed you.

[uh wait fuck that's not what he meant to say. He realizes this, at least, and tries to explain.]

Of course, you always keep your promises. My concerns amounted to nothing. I realize that the burden of those worries isn't yours to bear.

[He doesn't take what he said back, though he does let Venti's hand go after that.]

[Progress is being made, and he's glad to see it. Small as it is, it's still significant for one who likens himself to stone.

Venti's taken completely off guard by the sudden, sincere admission of being missed by the old lizard. Considering he'd just made a joke, this seems like a total nonsequitur. The bard stares at him for a moment, and blinks at the supposed explanation. Venti lets his hand go, only to reach out and take his wrist gently.]

I missed you, too. And I'm sorry it took me so long.

[Venti lets go of his friend and stands up, wiping the rest of his tears from his eyes onto the sleeves of his shirt. He goes to sit back down in his chair. Even though he probably looks like hell with how red his eyes and cheeks are, he's still trying to smile as cheerfully as he can. It'll become more genuine as they speak, though. Venti takes the wine glass into his hand and sips at the drink.]

So! Where should I start? Given my most distinguished and refined host has allowed me use of his stage, it's only right to ask!

[Heaven and earth, Zhongli, pull yourself together... He's facepalming inwardly at himself so much. Poor Venti's confused by the sudden outburst, and like, who can blame him? Thankfully, the bard handles it with grace. He isn't sure what to say to the fact he was missed, too, so he just kind of... stares helplessly as Venti sits down.

... That's right. Venti did cry fairly hard, and Zhongli is the reason, so...]

Wait just a moment.

[He steps back into the apartment for about thirty seconds. When he returns, it's with a cool washcloth and a small bowl of ice water.]

... I've been a terrible host. You've no need to act and dance for me like you're my own personal entertainment.

[Even he can tell when Venti is trying too hard.]

I'll listen to your story, but only when you're ready.

[Venti is once again surprised, but he waits for Zhongli to come back from whatever he's doing. His eyes go to the washcloth and bowl back up to the brunet's face maybe twice in rapid succession.]

Oh, you and your mixed signals.

[He sighs as he puts down the wine glass, but it's playfully dramatic. There's nothing forced about it this time.]

I've missed entertaining you, though, so forgive me my theatrics. That might've been in poor taste. [Venti holds his hands out with a smile.] Let me clean my face, and I'll start from when I woke up in the middle of nowhere in France and first saw that cultural yet ugly symbol of Paris we know today.

[Zhongli blinks. Mixed signals? How is he giving mixed signals? It's a normal day when Venti is saying shit that doesn't make sense, though. He hands over the washcloth and sets the little bowl on the table so as not to risk dumping ice water on his friend.

... However, upon hearing that last part, Zhongli gives a surprised laugh.]

I had no idea you felt so strongly about the Eiffel Tower.

[NOW WHO'S BEING PARTICULAR?]

[Venti doesn't even attempt to clear up Zhongli's evident confusion about the mixed signals. It's fine, it doesn't matter right now. It's way more important that the brunet's laughed for the first time they've reunited. Venti can't help grinning, even as he takes the washcloth and starts carefully cleaning his face.]

It's abhorrent. They took a perfectly pretty skyline and ruined it! And they're ruining it even more with another, uglier glass tower! At least the glass pyramid over at the Louvre redeems itself at night.

[This represents a rare moment when Zhongli is the one to learn something about his friend instead of the other way around. Somehow "Venti has Opinions about architecture" just wasn't on the bingo card. That said, he's pleased to see Venti cheering up a bit. His smile, even when mischievous as hell, tends to put Zhongli at ease more than a frown would.]

It sounds as if we won't be visiting Paris anytime soon.

[... but other places are on the table. And judging by his expression he is probably thinking of alternatives and wherever will be least offensive to Venti's architectural sensibilities.]

[Good Lord and Lady. Venti can see that Zhongli is taking this a little too seriously. He can't help a fond giggle.]

I suppose that Paris does have some good places to do a wine tasting. If you wanna visit, I'll keep my comments about the Eiffel Tower to myself. Mostly. The French countryside is as beautiful as ever, though it's been a century since I've been back to Europe.

Oh! But if you've never been Stateside before, you should definitely visit the East Coast! You'll probably get a kick out of the historical sites and parks over there. [...] And there are some fun wine tastings, too, but!

[............................. of course he's interested in the wine tasting. Some things never change. He's not wrong, though; some of the world's greatest vineyards for grape wine are in France.]

Europe is diverse, and there's more to France than simply Paris. I'm sure we can find somewhere decent to spend the time. [He's not even pretending it isn't a date at this point, but that would involve knowing on some level it's a date. Sorry Venti.]

I've been to the States before, though most of my time was spent in New York. I visited again in the late seventies. [His eyes settle on Venti. Despite the wine addict talk, his expression is mild.] If it's that notable, I'll have to make the time.

[But they've gotten off topic.]

What did you do after you awoke?

Edited 2023-05-31 09:46 (UTC)

[Speaking of things that never change... Ye gods, man, why is Zhongli like this? Venti isn't about to say anything yet, though. They've been dancing around this for a long time already.]

Of course! And I barely count seeing only one city as being here, for the record.

[Ahhh, right, future date talk can wait. He finishes cleaning his face, gently dabbing at his eyes to prevent further irritation. Venti doesn't speak up again until he set the washcloth aside.]

Well... The first thing I did was make my way over to the Temple of Artemis, with a couple of detours to figure out how long I'd been asleep and generally get a cultural update. A language update, too. At least this time it was just a hundred years.

[That slips out accidentally, but Venti is fine with it. His first long sleep happened long before he met Zhongli and Xiao. Not that he's ever spoken about why, if he's ever mentioned that happened at all to them.]

Unfortunately, I couldn't leave anything there with all the tourists that started visiting with all those innovations in transportation. So, I figured the best way to let you know I was awake was by finding you. I wasn't sure if you were in China still. I should've known better, really, but with how much safer overseas travel had gotten, I had the idea that, if nothing else, I could have some exciting and new stories to share about what's across the Atlantic!

[His eyes light up as he starts getting into the story, though. Even though Venti has gotten older and has slowed down, relatively, it's clear that his spirit of adventure has never truly died. It's only been tempered by time and experience.]

You should've seen the ships! It was a little nerve-wracking at first. Big, hulking metal ships that looked like they had no right to float, yet still had the spirit of their wooden forbears. The waves out at sea felt gentle, like we were cutting through the water instead of just bobbing along at the whims of nature. With the speed we were going at, the winds were always whipping at our bodies. Took a while to get the salt out of my hair and clothes, but it was incredible!

To be more accurate, I've now seen two.

[WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS ZHONGLI. Considering how rough the past fifteen minutes have gone, it's possible he's trying to cheer Venti up in his own way.

He listens to the story, though. And that slip? It confirms something he's wondered for a long time, but he doesn't call it out. He'd rather let Venti talk, since they haven't had the opportunity in a couple hundred years or so.]

I still visit China when I can, but the Order is based in Europe. [They really did just miss each other. Awful. That's it for the interruptions because he's just as engrossed in Venti's story as Venti is in telling it. The way his eyes brighten and he begins getting more animated, even a little more poetic...

Truly, there's nothing better than hearing a tale from a bard or a storyteller. It's a shame it's something of a dead art form in modern times. He can't help a tiny smile at Venti's praise of the ships they had at the time. Zhongli had similar feelings when he crossed the Atlantic a little while later...]

I'm surprised you didn't spend a century or two as a pirate.

Edited 2023-05-31 18:19 (UTC)

[It does succeed in cheering him up a bit, if Venti's playfully exasperated sigh is anything to go by. Of course Zhongli is like this.

He does laugh at the pirate comment, though.]

It was pretty tempting! But the only skills worth their weight in salt at the time were archery and music. Hardly worthy of a pirate. And the only sights being open ocean would have me bored after a while. However, I most certainly admired the spirit they had.

[He's more revolutionary than sea dog, but he understands the appeal, certainly.]

Some time after I arrived in the loftily lauded Land of the Free, I started hearing some rumblings about this Temperance Movement going on. Didn't really pay too much attention to it until they started talking about what alcohols would be banned. I thought, 'surely they wouldn't!' Oh, but surely they did.

[The bard sighs dramatically. He's definitely hitting his stride, now.]

The rich and wealthy could have their drinks, of course! Just behind closed doors where the rabble couldn't see them. I thought I was going to have to cut my tour short, but then! I heard tell of some secret little joints where you could get drinks, if you were willing to take the risk of a police raid. You know me. I took that risk, and even did some gigs at the speakeasies after I'd learned some new styles of music. There were definitely some close calls, though. Sadly, I lost an instrument during one of the raids, but it was better than jail. I was heartbroken all the same since there was absolutely no way I could get it back.

[Honestly, Venti is still a bit sad about that. But it's not as devastating as it was at the time.]

So, after that, I headed up towards Canada. I heard about their famous Niagra Falls, so I decided to cross the border from there. Oh, you should've seen them! I managed to get there as the sun was setting. The roaring falls looked like frothing, molten gold. The banks were covered with delicate, sparkling snow. The river looked more like black steel, and the icicles hanging from the roofs glittered like crystal chandeliers. It was absolutely breathtaking.

Any ship would have been blessed to have a child of the wind upon it. Still, I understand your reservations. I prefer solid ground myself.

[Zhongli rests his fingertips on the base of his wineglass, but he hasn't yet grabbed it for a drink. It's not even like they need to toast, since this was poured so casually, but he's that engrossed in the story...

Such a time of change and upheaval in American history. It's just like Venti to embrace it wholeheartedly, only to realize that there's something deeper going on. That was how each of his adventures started. Venti undoubtedly has a nose for trouble, and Zhongli had pulled him out of it numerous times... but he'd done the same for this old earth god, too.

His brows knit as Venti recounts the loss of an instrument. Absolutely no way, huh...] That is unfortunate. What was it that you lost?

[He says it so casually, but Venti knows him well enough...

Anyway, he listens closely as Venti describes the Falls. They really do sound like something beautiful-- rivaled, perhaps, only by the Liyue he loved in his past life. There were some places in China that were still untamed, but they were growing harder to find, and so much of the beautiful earth has been taken by modern advancement. Zhongli truly belongs to another age. They both do.]

It sounds as if it was worth the trip.

I see your silver tongue has somehow become even better over the years.

[Venti will probably never stop sticking his curious nose into trouble. Despite being deathly allergic to cats, he's very catlike himself in some ways.

He most definitely knows Zhongli well enough to understand exactly where this line of questioning is going. However, given how important music is to him, Venti can't help himself from relenting. Whatever happens will happen, he supposes. And he does miss the old thing.]

Oh, it was a beautiful soprano saxophone. I'd heard Bechet use it in jazz and I just fell in love with the sound. It was so new, but it added so much depth to a jazz band that it was incredible. So, I started learning it myself. Der Messingdrache was what I named him.

[He grins, though, when Zhongli comments that it'd been worth the trip.]

Definitely! We should visit them some time. If you don't mind the snow, we can even make it a future winter trip.

Hmm. [He's not sure if that's a compliment or not.] My grasp of graceful language could never compare to that of the world's greatest bard, however.

[That was definitely a tease, but he also meant it.]

I see... [Venti can be assured that he's memorizing every detail of this conversation, and already putting some kind of plan together in his mind.] Was this in New Orleans or further north? Somehow, I can't imagine you would miss the emergence of a new kind of music.

[Venti is predictable like that. Just like Zhongli occasionally enjoys attending academic summits for things he isn't even a part of.]

I don't mind the snow. [Of course an old mountain wouldn't care.] Though, I've been told the winters here can be... intense at times. I suppose we'll see when winter comes if I still hold that opinion.

[It's.................. most likely a compliment!]

Ah, but the bard must know when to yield the stage to the public speaker! A pretty word here and there isn't always what's best, after all.

[Like trying to get a drink without people thinking he's faked his ID. Which he technically has, yes, but not in the way the poor service staff think.

Yeah, Venti's definitely suspicious. However, it's a great question that he can't really think of a way to not answer. Eh, maybe it'll be a good challenge for Zhongli to find it. He won't expect a miracle, though.]

Oh, yeah, it was N'Orleans as jazz began to emerge and gain in popularity. How could I resist learnin' a new form of music at the source? [Yes, he did just start talking in a Louisiana southern accent, almost flawlessly. Venti grins, but he drops the accent after that.]

They can be, if you're not careful. The really northern states and Canada get a lotta snow year-round, and the blizzards are no joke.

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