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Venti stretched lazily as he yawned, roused from his nook amongst the rooftops of Mondstadt as the sun glimmered not halfway to its peak. He groaned as he dragged himself into a standing position, trying to message the ache in his back. With a wistful sigh the bard lamented the days past where he could sleep anywhere from bar stools to rooftops and still thank Barbatos in the morning for his body’s resilience. But alas, with his gnosis gone his body is now fallible to mortal problems such as back pain.
A slight breeze roused him from his thoughts, tussling his hair as if to greet him good morning. Though his friend did not stay long, leaving as quickly as it came, carrying off his remaining drowsiness to the cliffs of Mondstadt.
A harsh pluck of a lyre’s string captures Venti’s attention. He peaks over his perch to see Sansa, already at her usual spot by the fountain; however her usual practice has been interrupted by an excitable child. The boy crowds the bard, begging her to continue, but Sansa can only feebly pluck a few strings tunelessly before stumbling backwards in an unconscious attempt to escape.
Sansa let out an alarmed yelp when her heels knocked into the rim of the fountain, falling back for but a moment until being caught by the wrists, whose hands clutch dearly to her lyre. The hero of the morning is Margaret of the Cat’s Tail. Righting Sansa, she turns on her heel to scold the youngster, making him apologize before he could be allowed to carry on his way.
Margaret gave Sansa a pat on the shoulder, and Venti perked up when she offered the girl a drink on the house. Oh if a little fall into some water was all it took for a free drink then Venti would never be dry again. Alas, even in the city of freedom he was shackled by Morax’s mora. And so, he should follow Sansa’s example and start his bardly duties for the day.
Venti glided down from the rooftops, landing gracefully he proceeded on a leisurely stroll to his way to his favorite spot to play: The Anemo Archon Statue. He observed on the way as people started taking down the Windblume decorations. Citizens chatted as they worked, the chaos leading up to the festival seemingly forgotten.
Once he had settled at its base he summoned his lyre and began strumming a gentle tune. Words weaved their way around the strum of his strings to embroider a tapestry of rhymes. The wind carried his melodies to the ears of the citizens of Mondstadt, drawing them near until he had a small crowd.
Some were regulars, others had come by chance, and a few were fresh faces visiting from a far. But a chill ran down Venti’s spine as an eerily familiar presence came into his radar. Abyssal energy, and the beating of a heart he had become all too acquainted with over the past few millennia. Something peculiar caught his eye, a flash of purple in the crowd, and a pair of black horns peaking above shoulders. Venti’s gaze followed the horns as they moved from person to person, the occasional stretch indicating their owner standing on their tippy-toes. Yet the bard didn’t falter in his performance for even a moment, not even when he saw the full form of his interest pop up from the crowd.
It was in fact a boy. A boy with purple hair in a loose, white, night gown that reached to his knees. He had dragon wings to match the horns on his head that were tucked to his sides, and a tail that swayed in a way reminiscent of a wag.
But what truly caught Venti’s attention was the boy’s face. His eyes, which reflected the colors of a beautiful sunset shone with wonder, melted the bard’s previous frigidness as the boy was seemingly entranced by his music. It gave Venti an achingly nostalgic sense of Deja vu that caused an unnoticeably short pause between plucks.
However, just because Venti was content to continue playing with this new addition to the crowd doesn’t mean that his audience was. People were staring, a few started inching away. The boy was oblivious to this until his tail knocked into a woman’s shin, startled out of his trance by her cry.
“S-sorry!” He stepped back, wings flaring and causing the people behind him to jump back. He whirled around, putting his hands up to try and calm the crowd but they were already keeping their distance, muttering among themselves.
“Now now,” Venti scolded playfully, finally breaking his song, “since when have us Mondstadters been so shocked to see a new face?”
He let his lyre disappear as he marched forward to stand before the dragon boy. “I’m Venti the bard,” he stuck out his hand, “what’s your name?”
The boy looked at Venti’s outstretched hand with confusion, a helpless frown forming on his face as he fumbled with his own until the bard gently took one of his hands into a handshake. Venti gave his hand an encouraging squeeze and the boy beamed at him, “I’m Durin! Or—Mini Durin, wait—” he pulled his hand up to his face, “I guess I’m not that mini anymore…so maybe just Durin?”
It wasn’t a moment of shock for Venti. The wind had carried the name to his ears quite a few times in the last few months, so he had known of the ancient dragon’s Sinulanka counterpart for quite awhile. To him this was just a moment of realization, when he could finally put a face to the name.
But to the rest of the crowd the effect was immediate. The sudden hush created a tense bubble of dread amongst the bustling life around them, horror threading its way into all who heard that name. Even after all this time, it still held the people of Mondstadt’s hearts with claws that pierced with the chill of Dragonspine.
Durin noticed this shift too. The smile dropped from his face as he pulled back, looking around the unfriendly faces of the audience with nervous confusion. Venti stepped forward, aspiring to calm both the boy and the crowd, but when he did Durin turned tail and fled, leaving the bard standing amongst anxious whispers.
He needed a drink.
~~*~~~*~~*~~~*~~
While a dragon boy popping up and claiming a name that has long haunted Mondstadt was a bit of a sour note, Venti was able to salvage at least half of the audience and still make a pretty mora. Some might say that it was too early for drinking, and while taverns during daylight hours were nothing compared to their night life, Venti was but a leaf blown to the Angel’s Share’s door by a chance breeze. And what kind of anemo archon would he be if he didn’t let the wind lead?
Venti marched through the door with more glee than any sane person would have, much less at this time of day. The tavern was quite sleepy as expected, few customers scattered around the first floor, their collective volume actually acceptable, while only silence came from the second floor.
Venti seated himself at the bar, propping his head with a hand as he waited for the bartender to come and take his order. To his dismay, the one who approached him was Diluc, arms already crossed disapprovingly.
But the bard was not deterred, he proped a second hand under his chin, straining his neck to look up because of the way he was leaned over the counter. He gave the man a full smile before practically singing, “One dandelion wine please.”
Diluc didn’t move an inch, face pulled into a scowl he deadpanned, “Can you afford it this time?”
“Ha!” Venti reached down and brought up his pouch of mora pinched between two fingers, he jostled it smugly before letting its weight drop onto the counter. “One dandelion wine, please.”
Diluc took the pouch and began counting the mora inside. Meanwhile, Venti hummed in satisfaction as he kicked his feet in anticipation. After a thorough inspection, Diluc unceremoniously dropped the pouch of mora in front of the bard. “You’re eight short.”
Eight short? EIGHT MORA SHORT!? Curse Morax and his Golden House! A century ago he could have bought eight mugs of dandelion wine with what he has! Oh, Venti was as taut as a lyre string one pluck away from snapping!
But Venti has always taken great care of his lyre (well, his current one anyway), and he’s never let his strings snap. So, he sucked a strained breath in through gritted teeth, and let all his frivolous fury leave in an exhale.
Spinning around in his seat, by the time Venti slid back around he had completely perked up, lyre cradled in one arm. “Diiilluuuuuuc~” he stretched the name almost like a playful scold, “Eight mora is practically nothing in this day and age! How about I make it up with my services? I see José isn’t here right now, and this place definitely needs some music to liven it up.”
Venti was out of his seat before Diluc could even respond, strumming an impromptu rhythm and twirling for dramatic effect. Mid-spin his gaze was drawn to the second floor by a familiar presence, eyes meeting ones that seemed to glow in the dim space above. Durin.
As Venti’s body finished the motion his head stayed turned to the boy above. He gave Durin a smile and raised a hand to gesture him down, however the boy’s eyes flicked to the side and widened with distress. Venti followed his gaze to see the subject of his fear: Diluc. That man had noticed his abyssal presence, all his earlier disinterest completely erased as he now fixed Durin with a sharp, calculating glare. He had taken a battle ready stance, knees bent and hand outstretched, ready to summon his claymore at a moment’s notice.
“Wait wait!” Venti turned to Diluc with his hands raised, “He’s not with the Abyss Order, let me talk to him.” But when he turned his head back up to where Durin once stood, the boy was gone. “You scared him away!” He scolded, propping his fists against his sides.
Diluc’s stance relaxed, but his gaze did not even as it passed over the bard, “Care to explain?” His arms returned to their ever-so-iconic cross.
Venti huffed, “Wish I could but I haven’t been able to actually talk to him yet.”
“And yet you know he’s not a threat?”
The bard placed a hand over his heart, “Trust me, Diluc,” his tone grew slightly somber, “he’s not a threat.”
Diluc turned away with a sigh, “I’ll take your word for it then.”
The two stayed silently where they stood for a long moment, teetering on awkward before Diluc spoke again, “The answer to your proposal is no. Come back when you have enough.”
“Aawwnnnngh…” Venti groaned as he practically folded in half to dangle his arms in defeat. Alas, a soft breeze was blowing in from the second floor balcony, — no doubt the door was left wide open by Durin in his hasty escape — gently ushering him towards the exit.
Venti pulled himself up and turned on his heel, begrudgingly marching out the tavern. Back on the streets he shielded his eyes as he squinted up at the sky, the sun was just about at its peak. The day was still young, there is no need to stress.
Venti went to take one last wistful look back at Angel’s Share when something else drew his attention. Next to the door was the wanted poster for the traveler’s missing sibling, now starting to show a little wear. But next to it was something new, another missing poster that also lacked a picture. Venti approached and squinted a little at the text.
Missing Person
Looking for a young male. Has purple hair, last seen wearing a white night gown. Unique features include horns, wings, and a tail. If found please inform the Knights of Favonius.
Crookedly overlapping the bottom of the poster was an…abstract drawing of what might be a baby dragon. Scribbly purples, browns, and yellows are used to depict the creature with a sad look on its face, and equally messy next to it in red is written “Please bring him home”
It wasn’t hard for Venti to figure out who this poster was for. It was a sweet yet slightly amusing gesture, given the fact that Durin is still very much in Mondstadt, and his startleable nature, it reminded Venti of the times when people end up running all throughout the city looking for their missing pet.
Well, if he ends up crossing paths with the dragon again then he’ll try to guide him in the right direction. However, that is only if the wind currents they ride cross once more, for Venti’s is carrying his feet towards the open plains of the wilds.
Just as he is passing by the Adventurer’s guild a little red knight which Venti knows as Klee is skirting to a stop in front of him. “Excuse me mister!” She takes a quick and large gasp before stretching up on her tippy-toes to show him a picture of similar style to the one with the missing poster. “Have you seen this dragon? He’s lost and scared and we can’t find him anywhere!” The girl falls back on her butt, resigned to sit on the ground while she catches her breath.
“He doesn’t actually look like that anymore.” Venti looks up to see Albedo coming up behind Klee.
“I knoooooow,” she whines as she tilts her head back to look at the alchemist, “but these are the only drawings of him I have! Does he really look that different now?”
Albedo shrugs, “Yes but he’ll still stand out in a crowd.” He turns his attention to the bard, “Venti have you seen a boy with draconic features?”
Venti hums as he recalls, “A purple haired boy with horns, wings, and a tail?”
Klee bounces up, “That sounds like him!” She squeaks with excitement, whirling to Albedo with her fists clenched, “You saw Durin when he changed! Is it him?!”
Albedo nods, “Could you tell us the location and approximately how long ago?”
“It was maybe ten minutes ago at the Angel’s Share.” Venti brought his hands to his hips and shook his head with a sigh, “But Diluc scared him off so he’s probably long gone by now.”
“What!” Klee yelps, her hands come up to tug at her pigtails in frustration, “But we were just there a little while ago putting up posterrrrrrs!”
Albedo squats down to ruffle Klee’s head through her hat, “We’ll find him, even if we have to circle around a few times.” He stands up and gives the bard another nod, “Thank you, Venti. If you would, please keep an eye out for him.”
Venti saluted the alchemist as he slid by, “If I find him astray, I’ll send him your way!” And with that the bard waved them farewell as he marched to the gates of Mondstadt.
~~*~~~*~~*~~~*~~
Walks through the wilderness of Mondstadt were always calming. As much as Venti adored the bustling life of the city itself, he couldn’t deny that the unrestrained wilds were where he felt at his most free.
So he walked, glided, traveled aimlessly at the whim of the wind. Picking apples or Sunsettias when he hungered, tip-toeing around Hillichurl camps when required, and of course strumming his lyre when inspiration struck.
Now only about a quarter of the day remained before night would fall, and Venti found himself snug against the tree at Windrise, playing a song absentmindedly as he hummed to himself.
His mind became alert once more when he felt that abyssal presence entered his radar, though he did not open his eyes, nor did he stop his song. The bard was content with waiting, and it did not take long for the dragon to come to him, landing, or maybe crashing high in the tree above with a thunk.
Venti opened his eyes to observe the leaves falling from overhead due to the disturbance, and with a gentle blow they were being whisked away in a current of wind. Afterwards the bard simply leaned back and closed his eyes once more, continuing to pluck at strings he shifted the melody to one more soothing.
He could feel Durin’s eyes on him. The boy seems drawn to him for some reason, and while he was content to stay shied away amongst the branches, Venti was nothing if not social. “Oh dear dragonet hiding in fear, tell me, what has brought you here?”
There was a stifled squeak overhead, accompanied by more rusting. Venti leaned his head back to meet the eyes of the dragon perched above him. Durin slowly peaked out over the branch, tentatively stretching out to point at the bard’s lyre, “It’s, um, very pretty. The sounds it—you make.”
Venti could help but chuckle, he wondered if all dragons liked lyre music, maybe that’s what had drawn the original Durin to Mondstadt in the first place. With that thought the previous nostalgia quickly became more bitter than sweet, overtaken by a thick, sickening feeling at the cruel irony. It reached up to his throat, threatening to choke the speech out of him, but Venti has spent lifetimes with these feelings, so he shoved them down deep to the pit of his stomach.
No one’s going to get hurt this time.
Venti returned his focus to the plains ahead of him, “If you like it that much then why not come down? A bard’s music is best up close.”
A beat of hesitation passed with soothing strums. A shivering breath came from the dragon above, his voice terribly confused with a trace of hope, “Are…aren’t you afraid of me?”
“Why would I be?” Venti hummed.
The boy had no answer this time, and after another moment he was half sliding, half falling down the tree. Trying and failing to slow his descent with his wings, Durin ended up landing on his back, head at the base of the tree next to the bard. One wing laid spread, while the other had smacked Venti, pausing his playing as he let out a clipped “ack!” before it quickly curled away and over Durin.
“Sorry…” The dragon groaned, rolling away and onto his other wing so they both tucked around him protectively.
“Haaah, it’s fine.” Venti rubbed his head for a moment before fixing his hat. “Now I must say, I’m quite interested in why you believe you should be feared.”
The bard’s inquiry was not answered immediately, there was a silent pause where the dragon laid still. Whether he was hesitant to tell or simply struggling to pick his words was something Venti didn’t know. Finally the moment was broken by a breath, leading into Durin’s response. “I’m actually not quite sure…” The boy’s voice was small, “I’m so used to being feared I guess I didn’t stop to question it.”
Durin pushed himself up to sit besides Venti, tucking his wings at his sides. He didn’t face the bard when he said, “It’s my name isn’t it?”
“Yes,” Venti followed his gaze to the far field, looking beyond to a time far, far away, “The dragon you share your name with left quite the calamitous mark on Mondstadt’s history.” He turned to the boy with a smile as he mused, “But I don’t think your story will have such a tragic ending.”
Durin perked up a little, shifting his gaze to meet the bard’s. “Do you really think so? Even though those people…”
“Don’t know you yet?” Venti finished, once again resuming the soft strums of his lyre. “It may take some time, but the people of Mondstadt will come to accept you as yourself, and not the Durin of Dragonspine.”
That seemed to please the dragon as he returned to observing Windrise’s landscape while sinking against the tree. Venti was content to keep quiet and simply continued his lulling tune.
Soon the dragon let out a yawn, and a quick glance to the side showed his fatigue with how his eyes rested half-lidded and his wings tucked against his arms, tips brushing his cheeks.
“Someone’s tired,” Venti chuckled.
“Would it be rude if I slept?” Durin muttered, rubbing his eyes with a fist.
The bard shook his head, “Not at all, you’ve been running around all day, get some rest.” Venti patted his thigh, “You can lay on my legs if you want to.”
Durin barely hesitated before flopping onto Venti’s lap, nestling his chin into the dip between the bard’s thighs and balling his fists over the fabric. With one wing tucked between his body and the tree and the other stretched out, the dragon let out a content sigh as his tail wagged lazily.
It was honestly adorable. It reminded Venti so much of how Dvalin would try to rest his head on his lap while he played the lyre, even though he was far too big and crushed Venti’s little legs each time. Oh but how could he ever deny such earnest adoration? He would nuzzle the dragonet through the pain each and every time until Dvalin finally realized the harm his affection caused.
Venti gave Durin’s head a few pets before continuing his playing, lulling him to sleep within minutes. Shortly after the dragon had stilled with soft snores, Venti ceased his melody.
The bard softly carded his fingers through Durin’s hair, right between his horns. The horns so similar to the dragon he had slain so long ago. It was a strange feeling, the knowledge that the heart he had once fought so desperately to stop now lays in a body resting on his own. It unsettled him as much as it gave him hope. Maybe, through this boy, that heart can finally feel the love it so yearned for.
As the bard looked back to the field he spotted the leaves he had blown away earlier, now accompanied by a little red hat. Over the rise, running after said hat came Klee, jumping just high enough to retrieve her cap. While they were too far away to meet each other’s gaze, she must have spotted them, pointing and jumping while turned back to Albedo who was coming up behind her.
Venti looked back down at the resting dragon on his lap, brushing back his bangs, the bard's next words were but a whisper on the wind, “welcome to Mondstadt, Durin.”