Chapter Text
Venti senses Scara falling deeper into their shared subconscious, he makes the softest sigh as he glimpses the earliest memories of his beloved puppet.
Knowing….the small signs of similarities in this dream.
He knew…..he knew that he had been afraid of showing his own early memories to the other, because he had more baggage, lived longer than 500.
Erosion being a side effect that made it difficult to remember things, but sleeping for centuries helped with this.
He lifted his face up to gaze up at his sleeping face, at least closest to sleep that there is.
The bard traced the puppet's jaw with a finger, and then trailed upward to move a violet hairlock behind their ear.
He closed his eyes slowly as he leaned against them again, and now he was joining their memory, like they had joined his. Becoming the child who had died so long ago.
--- Memory ---
Kabukimono was resting on a home’s doorstep, eyes fluttering up to the sky’s brilliant blue. It was beautiful.
Turning one’s head, a child could be seen, giggling and lifting up a lavender melon.
The sire carefully let his hand down to pat the child's head, and pick up the lavender melon.
Taking a bite, he put it to the child’s lips while they snatched pieces from its flesh.
They went back and forth for long moments, giggling as purple stained both their lips and tongues.
Making a soft giggle, Scaramouche’s breathing turned into a hitch of panic as the child started fading into a familiar face, strange colored locks and dual moles.
His breath calmed for a second, and Kabukimono could almost be fooled he was safe. Back home. Not running like the coward he was.
-
The scenes had changed again as Kabukimono was leaned over bunches of flowers, the field littered in beauty. He was carefully picking some of the prettiest, most colorful ones.
Turn towards the child, a very happy puppet shows off a pretty blue one. He didn’t appear as if he’d been thrown into the writhe, and his clothing was basic.
All except for a golden feather tied around his neck, shaking as he moved and smiled.
Turning to set the pretty blue flower in the woven basket next to them, he hummed. The tune was a soft Inazuman child’s song. Bedtime song. Gentle.
The clouds crossed to tell morning’s brightness, the wanderer staring up at the skies to let himself relax. Leaning backwards, the man plopped down onto the fresh grass.
Grabbing the child’s sleeve, he pulled them down to the grass playfully. All while giggling.
”Look at the sky!”
The child giggles along with him as they are pulled down next to him, cuddling with their friend as they gazed up at the skies, how bright it is. How pretty it is.
They were grinning happily with the puppet as the nameless child hugs him.
”It’s so bright from here!”
The morning sun is indeed bright, and it arises every minute, every second. As beautiful as the joy they both shared together. They held back a cough.
And it indeed was beautiful. As the taller was just as child-like as the shorter.
It is perhaps surprising that someone like Kuninokaihōsha is able to remember something like this, after so long.
Though then again, Venti himself knows full well the experience of remembering what is now long-gone, now lost to time.
”It rained a few days ago, so the flowers will have enough to grow. Should we head back down for breakfast?
I found a few mora on the street before you woke up this morning! We can have something tasty~!”
He cooed, sitting up as he twisted his long hair between his fingers, showing off the few mora he’d found from one of his pockets.
Sliding it back in his pocket, Kabukimono grinned, picking up the full basket.
“Do you think the people at the plaza will like these flowers? I hope they do… I don’t want them to die without being seen…”
The memory was distant, sure, but Scaramouche remembered times before his departure.
Hundreds of years worth of memories were hazy, but there.
The child stood up with him, looking up with a huge smile on their face, interlacing their fingers around Kabukimono’s.
They proceeded to jump happily in excitement.
“Yes! Let’s do that! I didn’t know Mora was that easy to find!”
The child grins back at him, their eyes bright and joyful, despite the unknown sickness plaguing them. They also hoped that they would love their friend’s flowers.
“I’m certain that they’ll love them! They’ll notice! Don’t worry!”
”I know, right! I found it in this— never-mind, what do we want to eat?”
Kabukimono didn’t entirely understand the concept of stealing. Truthfully, he was just an untainted soul, learning of the world slowly.
Fortunately, he had a golden mentor show him some of the ropes before he... the puppet didn't know what happened to him.
He wanted to make the monsters pay for what they did... maybe if he did that... his mother will acknowledge his efforts and...
But he still didn't know if his mother will come back to him.
Unsure if Ei would come get him— after all, it’d been so long. He missed his mother.
“We should stop by the edge of the Narukami Shrine. I want to give a few flowers to my mother.”
”Maybe egg rolls? Tonkotsku Ramen? Katsu Sandwich?”
They giggled, looking up at him with big eyes filled with innocence, despite the burden they are carrying with them. He is immune.
The boy made an enthusiastic nod to him, they were a bit too young to notice the subtle change of demeanor in their taller friend.
They just encouraged him by saying.
“She will definitely love them! I do! So would she!”
The little boy walked with him, feeling the burden of the Tatarigami. Yet it seemed to feel more like a common cold to them.
Kabukimono stopped by a small little shop serving Unagi Chazuke.
Making a soft little delighted noise, he watched the owner and operator work.
“What do you think? Would this work? How much does it cost…”
He leaned over to look at a sign, letters etched into it. Cheap.
Fumbling in his pockets, Kabukimono briefly let go of the child’s hands to pull out mora and a pretty pink flower.
Handing the flower to the child, he grinned.
“Give this to the keeper after we get our food. I’ll have my hands full.”
He slid the man mora enough for two bowls, picking them up cheerfully.
One could only wonder why this memory was so fond to the puppet.
Or why it was kept in the crypt of his brain.
The boy observed the shop, before looking up at Kabukimono, wondering in confusion.
”Umm….”
They see the sign, and he mumbles. ”Cheap I guess”
The boy's hand was let go as they watched him searching for mora in his pockets. They were surprised when they were offered the flower.
They proceeded to grin back at him.
”Sure! Would be easy peasy!”
The child waited alongside Kuni, they were offered the two bowls, so the kid gave the keeper the flower.
Fulfilling their word to their friend.
Venti made the softest sigh of fondest as he observed the memory. It is really wholesome for an early memory.
At least this lets the Anemo Archon know that not every day was terrible for the puppet.
He’s been sleeping for a long time during this, hasn’t he?
Perhaps Venti just didn’t want to leave. It’s not like Scaramouche minded, after all.
Yes, it was the only shop nearby— similar with the cheap price.
Kabukimono yawned, strolling over to a warm patch of grass coasting a tree.
He didn’t feel welcome on the stone.
It was too rough on his backside, and it felt too unnaturally placed. He handed the child the bowl.
Making a quick smile, the contents of the bowl were slowly- but surely strained.
“Hmmm… sorry we couldn’t get much else. I think I’ve only got a mora left we’ll need to save for some day. What color of flower do you think I should leave for mother?”
His voice went soft again. Kabukimono’s eyes shifted to the shrine in the distance.
Once a week he’d left her something. Ei never came for him.
His mood shifted to something of grief. Ah. That’s why he kept this memory.
This was the time he realized she probably wasn’t coming for him. Tears pricked at his eyes.
No, perhaps not.
The little boy sat next to him, they looked up at him, smiling back, and holding the bowl that they were given. They sat cross-legged with them.
They ate for a while, until they hear their friend speak. Softer than before.
They look at him, before thinking for a moment. Before making a small smile, as they then cough a bit.
”Maybe…..bright red?....Dendro something.”
They glance back at him, and they say.
”Dunno if it’s just me……but you sounded more…..quiet than before?.....are you?...”
Sometimes, the smaller boy was more intuitive than they seem.
The memory only made Venti feel more bitter towards his former friend, who had closed herself off from him, like the Tsarista did.
”No… I’m perfectly alright. Enjoy your meal and the sunlight…”
His voice wavered as tears collected in his ducts, pulling his violet veil over his features to mute them from the surroundings while he ate.
“Uhm… yeah. I’ll give her a bright red wildflower. Hopefully she finds it and puts it in a vase. Perhaps the vase will match the flower. Pretty red accents.”
He drug away from the topic of his shaky voice, speaking of the flower. Turning to the child, he made a faint smile.
Fingers grazing through their hair, he tenderly pulled in the child for a hug. In all Reality, Kabukimono’s maturity had not even blossomed yet. He didn’t know of any sin.
Scratch that, he knew of anger, confusion, sadness boiled together into envy as he spied a child and his mother, giggling and walking down the street. Jealous.
He wanted that. He should have had that. Why didn’t he get that?!
His golden mentor told him why, so of course he knew why she wasn't here.
But his golden mentor had lost his mind to the abyss, that is why he's no longer here with him, that is why the Kabukimono cannot find him.
What sort of excuse did his mother have?! Because her sister died?! It's not fair!
The puppet held back a sob.
The smaller boy just assumes that he is probably just tired from the busy day.
But he did sound kind of…. They scooted a bit closer to him, and they ate while they listened to their friend taking their suggestion.
They made a small gentle smile as they scoop up some soup to their mouth while listening.
The boy notice him looking at them again, the boy feels their hair being caressed, they closed their eyes for a bit before they opened again when they were pulled into a hug.
They hugged back instantly, trusting him wholeheartedly.
The sick child didn’t even know the full extent of their illness, for it was more of a curse on Tatarasuna than anything else, but how would they know any better?
They were just concerned for their friend’s well-being more than their own.
”Hey….uh…if she doesn’t….at least I do…. “
The child’s voice was muffled by his fabric.
Kabuki held the child protectively before he let them go, grinning as he poked at their food for a moment.
Playing as if he would take some. Of course, he wouldn’t— he already had his share. But teasing his friend was fun.
Making a calm hum, Kabukimono leans back against his own hands, shifting his weight as he stared around at the town.
Anxiety creeped up his spine like it normally did right before gifting Ei something.
Wringing his clothing in his hands, he shifted his gaze to the child.
“Almost finished?”
He makes a playful gall as he toys with his attire, hands flicking at the golden feather around his neck like a kitten.
Kabuki lifts his finger to his lips, tenderly chewing on the skin…
They smiled back at him when they were let go, before they made a confused noise when their friend poked their bowl.
As if he wanted the remains, pouting at their friend a little.
Their friend was mysterious and confusing at times, where he said he came from was vague to them.
But he was their closest friend that they could trust.
When they were asked if they were almost finished, they shifted their soft gaze to Kabukimono and nodded.
"Yeah, I think so…. What? You want it?"
The child playfully retorted. Their hair falls under their eyes.
”No! No! It’s just— ah, I’m hoping she’ll visit me today. Enjoy your meal. The shrine’s not far. I don’t want you getting exhausted again, so I’ll go drop it off real quick. I’ll be right back~“
He sighed, quickly standing up and rushing into the depths of the crowd as he fumbled his way through.
”Hey! I was kidding! Would she appear today?”
The child looks at him as they brush their hair from their eyes, they make a small pout when he says that he’ll go to the shrine by himself.
“Uhh… it’s just a cold, I can walk fine- hey wait!”
The child made a small sigh as they watched their friend run off, before they proceeded to cough a lot in their sleeve.
The little boy had no idea how ill they were.
The two have dreams and desires to fulfill, so they hopefully assume that the illness will subside and disappear.
They had been in a small town in the outskirts of the shrine. Making his way to the heavy red arches, Kabuki leaned down to carefully lay down a flower. Bowing his head, loneliness dulled his body over.
He missed his mother. He grasped onto the golden feather on his chest, gazing at it. Sad eyes which soon harden a bit.
His mother gave him this, it was a way to "mark" him as hers.
And yet, she couldn't even keep him.
Raito taught him this. Taught him the reasons as to why.
He was also taught by his mentor about the Tatarigami, and how it works.
The puppet didn't know how much longer his smaller friend will live, and he hated not knowing.
He wish Raito was still here, he needed him. But the puppet also knew that he cannot help him.
Kabukimono felt his cheeks get wet with his tears.
He didn't know where he is, he wanted to help him so badly, after everything he did for him, how he taught him things as much as he could.
And the puppet can't even return the favor? The debt was too burdensome, too much.
Kabuki didn't know how. He can't do anything for him. At. All. He felt useless.
Why does this world keep taking things from him? He never asked for any of this.
Why was he created? Just to suffer and be helpless? And never die young?
Why? Why? Why?
-Dreamscape, cabin-
Scaramouche woke alone in the “room”, leaning over the side of the false fabrics.
Venti had already taken back control of the body. Or was asleep.
The man didn’t pay attention, mind only on the electro archon and his electro core pumping through him.
His body and mind hailed from inazuma. His heart was the blood of a god’s.
Yet, he had a piece for this foreign god. One of majesty, beauty.
Blessing. His heart longed for the archon, holding them closely..
Venti reminded him of him.
Scaramouche sighed as he paced around the place Venti had made. It smelled of him. So sweet, like nectar. Distinctly his lover.
Making a heavy sweet treat for his nostrils. He stands up to stare at the flames of the false fire, watching it twist and burn wickedly.
He could almost see Venti’s new dream through it. Faintly, he makes a slow sigh. It was sad he couldn’t share the real world with his lover until they were fixed.
Or at least helped. That is, if Albedo would hear their measly pleas for help.
Scaramouche let his eyes rest close. He couldn’t help Venti. Not at all. All he could do was stare into the infernal flames and wish.
Wish he could desperately help them. Wish. His fingers pinched at his skin to help calm his racing heart, making a whimper.
“Venti, please wake up. Don’t let yourself sink into the memory…”
He found himself almost uncomfortable at his lover’s screams. The features of the Reisu unsettled him as they formed from Venti’s face.
Kuni’s heart hurt. It screamed at him to help his lover. Yet… it was a memory. The calling for Himmel? A memory. The screams? A memory of pain. Suffering.
The Scholar made him rage at the sight of their ugly, orange eyes, his fingers burning into the false carpet around him.
He was stuck in this uncanny room. Alone until Venti returned. Or perhaps, if he ever met Xiao. Scaramouche could only hope they were tender. Kind.
But from the stories of the Vigilant Adeptus? Frightening. Yet so similar to himself. And him.
-
Why didn’t Venti think this through? Why wasn’t he more careful?
If he had been, maybe he wouldn’t have ended up being forced to sleep. And stayed awake long enough to help his beloved 500 years before.
What had laid on the grassy ground, beyond the land of winds, was no longer Venti the bard.
Rather, it was a corrupted Barbatos, fueled by the wrath of a lost peoples.
The ill-will bitter feelings towards Celestia were always there from the beginning of becoming the Anemo Archon.
For they have done nothing to change the circumstances in Old Mondstadt before-hand.
But now they had increased a thousand-fold, overcoming the limitations and restraints that usually held Venti back from doing regretful actions that brought consequences to Mondstadt.
This same spirit had gone to dragon-spine not long after his transformation, was given the heart of the dead dragon, a fracture of it from the Scholar's cruel hands, a carved piece from the crimson crystal, and using it as a catalyst for his dark quest. Going to Old Mondstadt, on top of its very peak of its tower, to use himself and the fracture of Durin’s heart as a beacon for every hilichurl in Teyvat nearest to him.
Those nearest, for the hilichurls suffer from a similar curse/affliction as Barbatos does.
Their curse gives them great anguish, and the similar hideousness that they try to hide behind with their masks, while Barbatos hides their own with their hood and facelessness.
Past Barbatos will call upon any hilichurl, so that he can absorb their essences, their very life, to fuel his power and the catalyst.
For Barbato’s relationship with the hilichurls is similar to a suicidal pact, they will give their lives to help Barbatos destroy that which caused them to become immortalized, savaged creatures.
And Barbatos would sacrifice everything, even their own life, in order to topple down a tyrannical rule that has brought destruction to other civilizations that came before his own.
The Anemo Archon of Freedom, had become the Archon of Chaos.
Why Chaos? Well, Barbatos had spent the next couple of weeks, causing disruption, and problems towards both Mondstadt, Liyue, and Sumeru from within.
To distract them with their own problems long enough to complete his plan to crack the false skies.
And that is when the Knights of Favonius. Have started to notice what is going on in Old Mondstadt.
This is my fault. So selfish, so selfish. If I had just waited a little more, Kuni wouldn't have lived a lonely long life of 500 years.
And the Scholar wouldn't have existed because of..... himself and the others. Complacency.
Venti's guilt is what triggered the same memory.
-
Scaramouche's eyes lower to the ground, feeling Venti’s guilt. Would they have immediately grabbed him up? Saved him from his torturous life?
Maybe Kuni wouldn’t have liked Venti.
Being stuck in a new god’s care, without his “mother.” It would be forceful. Perhaps it is better this way, so they could warm to one another.
Love one another the right way.
Yet it made him curious, almost. What would’ve happened?
Making a dull sigh, he ran his fingers along the fireplace’s lining, pressing his fingers around tinsel and pretty fern. The entire place was decorated beautifully— all by Venti’s imagination.
He had no doubt they’d always imagined living with their lover as a mortal. Living a normal life. Every immortal had.
Scaramouche had resided to wandering… despite his desires to settle down in Inazuma. Yet he couldn’t. He was immortal.
A token from the gods in flesh.
-
Venti’s guilt, anger, and hatred rooted in the trauma of hearing three arrows hitting his friend's chest.
That emotional wound only grew throughout the years, hundreds of years actually.
The hardships along the way, throughout the archon war, and toward the cataclysm, then Durin attacking Mondstadt, and then the Scholar leading him on, all lead up to the breaking of an Archon.
Indeed, perhaps Venti had become too human, too much like his human friend that lead a rebellion against a tyrannical god. And ultimately sacrificed in the process.
But…..that heroism had become perverted through something more sinister and horrifying.
For the Anemo Archon was leading himself towards self-destruction, with the hopes of taking out Celestia with him.
But this would also endanger the people of Teyvat as a result. Hence why the world took action against him.
And ultimately, he was stopped. But not without a price to be had.
Venti still remembers hurting his friends during his dark mission, blinded by rage and grief, and yet throughout all of this...
Xiao in particular never thought about killing him, Zhongli would’ve in order to save his Liyue from Venti’s destruction, that included the Adepti also taking action against him.
But that would’ve lead to another Archon war, and so, mortals dealt with him instead.
Mortals and few Adepti like Xiao. It was still a shock to Venti really. He had underestimated the potential mortals have, when they set aside their differences, and all worked towards a singular goal.
Ultimately, Venti had ended up doing a repeat of Decarabian vs mortals. And the victory was the same.
Venti doesn’t know what would have happened if he stayed awake long enough for Scaramouche’s birth….but it doesn’t matter now.
-
Kuni pads around, finding anxiety cloud his very thoughts. The thoughts and dreams Venti were receiving was effecting him gravely, making every step he took almost painful in one’s sorts.
Biting his nail, Scaramouche makes a dull hum. Oh… the second he can get his hands on the Scholar, the better! He’ll turn them into slop!
At just the thoughts of mutilating Dottore made him shiver with sadistic pleasure, the idea of avenging his lover’s pain.
Their agony. He’d get rid of their pain. It hurt him, and he didn’t like that. Dottore would pay the price.
All monsters like him will pay.
Resting his eyes closed, Kuninokaihōsha let the elemental energy he contained condense into his bell-like weapon he held, even here.
Trying to get out his frustrations with concentrating energy.
His hands twitch with a mysterious fury, before the Electro energy snaps and zaps around the room.
Scara calms down fairly quickly, sitting on the floor on his knees. Resting. Clearing his mind.
"K-Kuni....I'm fine now...."
He whimpered, he opened his teal eyes, still laying in the same bed that they had made love on. He was beyond relieved to be back here.
Venti slowly sat up, and he held his forehead in his hand. There were side effects to being in the subconscious still, and he knew the consequences of such.
Truthfully, he ultimately wishes that his Scara didn't had to see him like this, not after the happiest moments they were sharing before.
He shakily breathes, as if what he had been experiencing was just a few moments before, not hundreds of years in the past.
That was how real it still felt. It almost makes Venti wish for erosion.
The bard looks at Scara eventually, who sat on the floor, Venti makes a weak smile at him.
The puppet slowly turned his wide eyes to Venti, he made a giant sigh of relief, leaping upwards to wrap his arms around Venti.
Large flaps of fabric surround the two as Kuni's body shifts onto the bed, one foot partially off as he hugged his lover.
The was the most he could do. Words couldn’t explain his grief for them. For Venti’s guilt. Of something that wasn’t the Archon’s fault.
His fingers shivered with the remains of the electro and Ameno. Yet he couldn’t hold back in his fear for Venti, his love. Admiration.
Kuninokaihōsha's breath was heavy. Very heavy. He had been holding it for who knows how long. Actually, he didn’t need to really breathe.
He’d taught himself— breathing made one stronger.
Allowed one to become powerful: to calm. Grasping at Venti’s head, he pulled them into his body, making a shaky sigh.
“Venti… you scared me. I thought you were returning to the normal 'reality'.”
The wind spirit wraps his arms around his Ningyō. Venti lets out a shaky sigh as he smells the sweet scent of Sakura bloom from them.
Their sparkly energy makes him feel safe.
He was pulled and sat upon their lap, his face buried into their warm shoulder, what Venti experienced may not have been as drastic as Scara’s when he fell into subconscious here.
But even he was susceptible to the corruption’s influence still, it plays on your weaknesses, your fears, your anger, your insecurities.
This corruption had come from below..... the abyss. It has existed since the dawn of time, since the birth of this world.
He can hear….feel the warm breaths from his lover, but he knew how shaky it sounds, calming themselves, worries for his well-being had been consuming them.
Venti murmurs.
“I’m sorry…..for making you worried….that memory of yours must’ve taken its toll on me.”
“You saw that? I’m embarrassed now at how dumb I was.”
His voice was soft as his fingers pressed into Venti. Despite the two’s various lacking of fully clothing, they looked almost royal.
Ignoring the deeds they’d done, in this place, it looked like a palace. A palace for two, two lovers.
Scaramouche grasped Venti’s jaw and pressed kisses against them, smothering the other in love that was unlike him— mushy.
In a daze. He was busy thinking about how much Venti saw. His nature before his vision? Seeing him suck up to his mother like a pussy?
Hmm… embarrassment waved his face. He’d admitted in his subconscious he did, in fact, miss her.
Maybe it was just the gnosis, or perhaps the motherly figure she gave. And failed at. Miserably.
“Yeah…”
Venti hasn’t fully realized that they weren’t fully clothed, he’s distracted by the beauty that his love shows, that, and being in their arms like this..
Could almost make Venti forget about what he remembered.
And what they just did together in this warm, cozy place.
He presses himself more into them, feeling them grasping their jaw, and kissing him passionately, he moans softly into the kiss.
One that was desperate, and needy.
His eyes closed, his arms around their neck, his mind now all mushy and foggy.
Venti had felt a lot of shame, and was prone to self-criticism.
Perhaps they were not so different, they both missed someone for way too long, hundreds of years passing.
Everyone else was aging around them, and there were only a few that could empathize with their situation that no mortal could.
He wonders what it would be like to have an actual mother and father, since Venti never had any parents.
He just simply came into existence without the reliance on external factors. Perhaps the wind itself is his parent?
But of course, Venti would only end up referring to himself as his own parent, and that didn’t sound like it made any difference.
Venti may have lost someone dear to him, but they never abandoned him intentionally, it must’ve been horrible, how Scara felt.
Being left alone because Beelzebul couldn’t even figure out how to deal with them properly.
Venti knows that they lost Makoto, the original electro archon; she suffered from great losses.
But that doesn’t mean she should just leave him all alone because of her own issues.
She should’ve given him to someone that was similar to them from the start.
Morax.... Zhongli... knew better... Xiao is the main example of that.
“Perhaps….I should call Xiao now.”
“You can call him now or not. I don’t mind either option.”
With the endless aging, Scaramouche couldn’t fathom how he survived without Venti. Venti, his lover.
Whom had restored his soul. Maybe now he’d be more connected with himself then ever before. Biting his lip, he hugged Venti tightly after withdrawing from a kiss.
“I love you, you fucking worm.”
Affectionate. His fingers grasped at Venti’s clothing again, the hardly any made him almost smirk. He winked at Venti at the mere idea of their sins.
To atone was not exactly on his list. Scaramouche chuckled.
“Calling Xiao will work out. Just make sure my body is dressed in the real life. Who knows if we took them off with a mind of our own. I don’t exactly want to flash anyone…”
He giggled, finger tickling the other’s cheek with painful love.
Venti smiled, and he nodded to him. Closing his eyes again, and they both leaned into each other for another kiss.
His own heart, made of the same winds as the rest of him.
Beats soundly against them. This puppet, that lives without an actual heart, made him start beating again.
He was thankful. So happy that they wandered into his land.
He wasn’t sure if he could even return to doing things that he did before.
He did not want to go back to that life, before they entered his life.
The Bard made a happy giggle from what they say, the insult being a contradiction that he adored greatly. The man before him, was a walking contradiction like himself.
“I love you too….mushroom. Ehe.”
And it seems, Venti still remembers that one. He feels their fingers grasp at him again, causing him to gasp in a good way.
The way they grin, and wink at him, lets him be reminded of what they did here together. And no, Venti did not have any plans to atone either. He has no regrets.
Imagining Scaramouche naked when Xiao appears out of nowhere, makes Venti laugh out loud, the image so bizarre, the bard imagines the look on Yaksha’s face.
He giggles when they trace their finger on his cheek.
“Yeah, our weapons…giggles can disappear in another dimension…. I can just see that scene vividly….”
Venti grinned, leaning his forehead against theirs.
“Don’t even imagine it! Poor thing would be mortified!”
Scaramouche grimaced, trying to not imagine the scene. He’d probably end up traumatizing Xiao worse then what’d he’d read.
Tapping his fingers along the other’s thigh, he carefully mouthed kisses along Venti’s frame.
He was attempting to get Venti all riled up once again— just for them to not leave.
It’d be fun, he deemed it so. To watch his lover’s face grow more and more flustered. It wouldn’t hold the same prize as his memory of Venti’s… lustful face.
Yet all the same, it was perfect.
“Hmmm… I wonder what would’ve happened if I stayed in Liyue. Would you have detected my presence as… his? Hm?”
To get Venti talking was simple— to get distracted from leaving him.
Venti’s breath hitches when he feels their kisses along his frame, he was half-naked, so his sensitive skin was given access to the Wanderer.
He closed his eyes slowly, focusing on his breaths, in and out slowly. He whimpers which he attempts to muffle, but he needs to focus on breathing, so it just leads to him gasping shakily.
He bit his lip, as he attempted to not get easily flustered from their touches, but it was really hard to do.
Already addicted to their seductions, their love, close to obsession and possessiveness.
He hears them talking into his ear, their whispers send shivers up his spine, and he holds in a whimper.
“I….I’ve known him for ages….his soul has more….baggage than most…darker….I-I think I would know the difference.”
The bard stutters, and says shakily. He knows what they're trying to do, attempting to prolong the inevitable, and it is working.
Was he really this weak? He fought other gods in a competition for the thrones, and he’s weak to simple touching?
“Mmmm…”
Was his breathy reply, fingers trailing down Venti’s chest. Scaramouche didn’t quite expect the archon to fall into his grasp so easily.
He hardly was touching his lover! Just grazing kisses and his breath. Now, if Venti were to tell Kuni that he’s a little teetering on the edge of mania, he’d agree.
Venti was a drug of his he was addicted to. Obsessed over, would die for. It was almost delusional— the life Scaramouche had made up for the two of them in his head.
He knew it’d never happen. They weren’t mortal, and with the abundance of xenophobia in Mondstadt— he doubted he could even obtain a job. Nor Venti— they looked too bubbly.
Too… easy to take advantage of. Despite it just being his imagination, it made his blood boil.
Kuninokaihōsha’s face pressed moist kisses into their exposed neck and frontal chest— their shirt was unbuttoned. He’d found a new favorite hobby.
“Keep talking, worm. Mmm…”
His eyes lit up with a brief thought.
“What if you called him now, into this conscious. To witness this. I’m joking, Venti. Don’t. That’d be really embarrassing—“
“Yeah, true.”
Venti made a joyful laugh, yes it definitely would be an embarrassing idea.
One that Xiao wouldn’t let him down or forget about.
He knows that Kuni was only doing this to keep him staying, despite them both knowing that they needed to wake up, and call Xiao.
But they weren’t making it easy for him at all, Venti whined when he felt them kiss his neck again in a way that he felt a little fogged from it.
He continues to talk regardless, as he feels them touching him still, he makes shaky little breaths as he leaned against them.
“E-even being down those caves though…..I still sensed you.”
There wasn’t much that Venti could do to make their lives as normal as mortals, humans being easily so led astray by ignorance and apathy.
His only regret was letting them know the difference between liberty and chainless freedom.
Everyone is free to pick their chains, while freedom without chains is simply chaos.
Venti always knew what his chains were, but he knows that he didn’t really pick them, another did for him.
But his time with them makes this bearable.
“Ever looked up at the stars?”
Scaramouche had deemed it enough play with his lover, carefully drawing them in a hug. Oh, how he loved them.
The stars themselves had aligned their paths to cross again. It was lovely. He made a soft smile at Venti’s flustered appearance, carefully reaching down to pick up a hand of theirs.
Tenderly, his thumb rubbed circles into it.
“I have. I’ve found the stars interesting since my birth. They’re a sign of every emotion, every life— all brought into an array of woven love.
Even the moon, brings in its own point. It’s all so beautiful.
Reminds me of something. Ah. Yes.”
Though cheesy, he just needed a little more time in his distraction. The Wanderer pressed love filled kisses to the other’s nose bridge.
It smelled of sweets, cakes, cookies. It blossomed into a blissful dream, something illusions could only play part of.
“Off of the cheesy note. I like stars. They’re pretty… magical, too.”
He paused, to make a sigh. To admit.
“I really don’t want you to go. I know we have to separate at some point, but… ah…”
The bard makes a strange sad smile from listening to the other man’s talk of the stars.
Their words are different from a past version. That Venti could only remember in the form of a fantasy story.
The same puppet that held him, had been broken many times from the same callous hands that corrupted the Anemo spirit.
Oh, he remembers, he still remembers things. In vague shapes, and visions. That he can only describe in vague riddles, and poetry.
It wasn’t the first time that history had changed. He squeezes the other's hand lovingly.
Even before, Venti had been asleep for 500 years, for another reason. Erosion.
But also, he wasn’t required to be awake all the time. It still leaves regret though.
In this timeline, this current Incarnation of the Balladeer that held him in his arms. Was spared from the cruel machinations of the Doctor.
So how does he still recognize Dottore? Did he have his own way of remembering things?
The Scholar and the Doctor are two different entities. Yet Venti allowed himself and the Puppet to indulge otherwise.
It's easier that way, even if it made no logical sense to the Archon.
He didn't wanted to acknowledge that the Scholar's real identity was.....
Venti lays a hand to the others face gently, when they sighed and begs for him to not go, he leaned forward to gently kiss them, and he whispered softly to them.
“I chose you….for a reason….eventually….we’ll have to….but I’ll still be with you.”
He still does not regret that one though. He loves all who have his visions.
Especially him in particular.
“To be honest…I’m curious….about something…..it didn’t hit me sooner, for some reason.”
He looks at them with gentle, teal eyes, moving a small strand of indigo hair from their eyes.
“The names…..Scaramouche….Balladeer…..what do they mean to you?...”
Those names. Kuni took a sharp intake of breath. The sire felt his lungs scream at him for breath, but even when he stopped, he could live.
He was a puppet. There was no need for breath.
After a moment, he let his lungs go from the stone cage he’d trapped them in. Indigo eyes fall closed, leaning into the other’s palms. He didn’t want him to leave.
These questions he knew he’d answer, but he needed a moment.
He took a shallow swallow, letting his eyes reopen and lips part to speak.
“They are all but words. Noises to appraise my attention. Just like Himmel, it is all words and woe. I am a spirit, a divine puppet in this immortal lifespan.”
Not entirely wrong, but not the whole truth either.... these names were taught to him... he was taught by Raito to change their meaning.... to give them his own meaning.
His voice was soft. At this point, he’s willing to adopt being Himmel. They were the same, similar spirit, just two different times.
Over thousands of years apart. Yet disconnected as two different people.
Ultimately, it didn't make a difference. But it mattered to Venti, because he came from that ancient period. A remnant of.
Scaramouche leaned forward to rest in Venti, to confide for love. It was beautiful, their love.
“Kuninokaihōsha to me, it really tells of my time in Inazuma. An avenger and defender. The inversion of Kunikuzushi.... Kunikuzushi was the original variant.... Kuninokaihōsha is the second variant..."
"Why does that matter?.... well.... Kunikuzushi does not exist anymore... and so, the meanings and intentions of the other two.... have been changed and altered... without Kunikuzushi... the other two are not inherently corrupted by hypocrisy, pride, and greed. I put my own meaning into them now. I am the second variant, learning from the first iteration."
"Balladeer is another title. Something they give you when you’ve done something good— or bad. Scaramouche is the wild card, an agent against both Eternity and it's Entropy, siding with nobody, pure freedom is impossible to achieve in this world... but it is an ideal that is worth having... the only ideal. Even if the wind does not go on forever... that doesn't mean it stops entirely. Wind cannot be contained.
I’m collecting names. Venti, what do you call me? In your soul, mind?“
What did Venti call him by? In his soul and mind? That’s sort of incomprehensible really, since names are meant to identify a current incarnation of a person or creature.
Kunikuzushi was Himmel once, but that was way past that life-time, yet Venti was too far gone to differentiate the two entirely.
Either way, this was his love that held him, he leaned against him, forehead to forehead, and sighs softly.
“Perhaps, multiple lifetimes ago, we called each other by different names, and we forgotten about them over time…..I just sense, know who I am seeing in front of me.
That goes way beyond just simple names…..back then…..I never had a name….until you gave one to me.”
There was a difference between them, the other before him had changed drastically.
Their spirit may now house itself in an immortal puppet, but mortality is superior to immortality in a way that it brings change.
While Venti himself barely changed much. Death is not the end, but rather brings evolution to the mortal spirit. His Himmel is free, while Venti is still trapped.
But there was one, or rather two, that were both god and mortal. Beyond this world, unaging, yet ever-changing. Change to many worlds, that even the Anemo Archon could barely comprehend.
Perhaps that is the end goal for all spirits like Himmel. To transcend this world, while Venti still remains here.
But he doubts that his beloved would leave him. They’ll do everything in their power to set him free from the Heavenly Principles.
No matter how many lifetimes they will have to go through to do so, even if they were to forget about him for long-periods of time.
“To me, you represent the ideal of being free, more than I. I am still chained.”
“We are truly nameless lovers, however. I don’t need a name to know your beauty. I want to find a way to free you, even if it means sacrifice.
Our first step to that is getting to Dragonspine, and finding that stupid Alchemist. I want to embrace you in the real world.”
Kuni had calmed down by now, with all of his clinging. All he wanted now was to get the trip over with. So he could embrace his lover properly, and now in this… consciousness.
Kuninokaihōsha placed a well sent kiss on his lover’s lips before he pulled away, sitting on his knees. He stared at Venti. Eyes filled with hope, promise.
All the man wanted was to touch his lover once again without it being a ghost of feeling. It wasn’t like the real life, meeting them so lovingly.
“Please, love. Let us wait no longer. It hurts me. It really does. It tears me apart, and I have a feeling it does to you, too.”
Scaramouche couldn’t save Venti when they were stuck like this. He couldn’t. The only way to was to separate forms.
The hardest thing was letting go— yet he was prepared to withstand corruption, and to fight it off.
Venti made a tired sigh. They were right, of course. They're getting nowhere by continuing to live like this. But…..it still hurts to leave just as much.
When he looks into their indigo eyes, he sees determination in them, and he was right about that one too.
He pulls away once they kiss for the final time, as he looks back at them with a small smile.
Wasn’t he in control last time? He was, but would it work if Kuni called for Xiao? It’ll make it harder to convince him in that regard than it might if he were in control.
But it still feels unfair, this was their body, not his. He doesn’t even need it.
At least, he does not care for such things, unlike the Raiden Shogun. Which brings more risk of Erosion as a result though.
In this life-time, he slept less than usual. So, he knew that he’d lose significant memories in the long-run.
He caresses their cheek with his fingers, he softly says.
“Wasn’t….I was in control last time?.... I’m not sure if it’ll work when it comes with calling Xiao. That won’t take too long….maybe like a couple of seconds, and then I’ll come back here, and you take the reigns.”
They waited long enough, Venti had satisfied his beloved as much as he could, now the real rough journey will start again.
“Would you be okay if we did that? I just want to… make sure…”
His voice slowed to make sure Venti understood. His hands ran over their arms, grasping their hands and holding them tenderly.
“You should explain to Xiao what is going on first. To tell him before switching over. So he doesn’t get confused.
I’d be a little worried if I come back and he’s freaking out, possibly violent.”
Scara lifted their hands to his lips, pressing tender kisses between them with love.
Two immortals, solving problems. He was sending as much blessing as he could to his lover.
His eyes close, moving their hands to his chest. To his heart. It’s beat was soft, underneath the loud hum of his electro core.
His eyes shift up to Venti’s, Kuni’s indigo eyes shimmering with love.
“We have got this.”
Venti made a slow, helpless shrug. As his hands were grasped in the puppet's.
He makes a weak nod, not having any better ideas of his own.
The bard watched them kiss one of his palms with tender teal eyes, his eyes slowly blink with affection, not far from how a cat does, his eyelids feel heavy with warm love.
His hand can feel the vibrations underneath their chest, and he makes a warm smile when he feels it.
He slowly nodded to them, he softly said.
“Okay….”
There was nothing poetic or complex to his answer, there was not much that he could say that would describe the love he feels for them. Something that was truly eternal, and can never die.
He closed his eyes when he leaned against them, kissing their lips gently, holding them, it was hard to tell if he was trying to reassure Kuni or himself.
He feels their hair, their warmth, their body against his. Until he doesn’t anymore, he opened his eyes.
And he finds himself back in the manor. In Kuni's body. Their eyes glowing teal. Instead of indigo.
Venti takes a deep breath, closing his eyes as he leant against the couch, uttering.
“Xiao….need your help.” He whispered.