I Don’t Know What To Call This

Sources for the wheel

“Hey there, fellow wind spirit! What’s got you sitting so far up here instead of enjoying the city’s festivities?”

Startled, you turned to see a youthful bard in green and white, leaning casually against the trunk of the tree. His eyes sparkled with mischief, and his twin braids swayed gently in the breeze. You recognized him immediately—Venti (or Barbatos), the Anemo Archon himself, though he preferred the guise of a wandering bard.

“I… like it up here. It reminds me of my true form,” you replied hesitantly. “It’s quieter.”

Venti chuckled, plopping down beside you. “Ah, I see! The winds are free, yet they carry so many whispers. Sometimes, it’s nice to just listen to your own breeze, right?”

You nodded, surprised by how well he understood. “I’ve only recently started living like this,” you admitted, gesturing to your human body. “It’s strange, but also… exciting. There’s so much to learn.”

Venti smiled warmly, pulling out his lyre. “Then let me teach you something about this world. Music is the language of the winds, you know. Each melody carries a story.”

He strummed a cheerful tune, and you found yourself laughing at the playful rhythm. Then, he shifted to a gentler melody, one that seemed to echo through your very core.

“This song,” Venti said softly, “is about the freedom of the winds, and those who choose to carry its spirit. You, me, and the winds themselves—we’re not so different.”

As the notes faded into the evening air, you felt a newfound sense of belonging. “Thank you, Venti,” you murmured. “I think I’m starting to understand.”

Venti grinned and hopped to his feet. “Good! Now, come on! There’s an apple cider with your name on it waiting in the city. And maybe a few more songs if you’re lucky.”

For the first time, you descended from the tree with a light heart, ready to embrace your new life in Mondstadt alongside its most carefree bard.

[Header credits]

The Wangshu Inn was quieter than usual when you arrived. As a wind spirit in human form, the mortal world fascinated you, but your visits were often fleeting. Something about this place, however, called to you—a sense of solitude that felt oddly familiar.

As you lingered on the balcony, a low voice broke the silence. “What are you doing here?”

You turned to see Xiao standing nearby, his eyes sharp and wary. His spear rested at his side, but his stance remained guarded.

“I mean no harm,” you said quickly, sensing his tension. “I’m just… drawn to this place. The winds here are different.”

Xiao studied you for a moment before his posture relaxed slightly. “The winds carry memories. Pain. Hatred. You would do well to stay away from such things.”

You hesitated before replying, “I know. I feel it, too. That’s why I’m here. I thought… maybe I could help lighten it.”

Xiao’s expression softened, though his gaze remained distant. “The burden of these winds is not yours to bear,” he said quietly. “They will only weigh you down.”

You stepped closer, your voice steady. “Maybe. But aren’t the winds meant to carry things away? To bring comfort and change?”

Xiao’s eyes flickered with something unspoken, and he turned to look out over the landscape. “You’re not wrong. But such tasks come with a cost.”

The two of you stood in silence, the breeze gently brushing against your forms. After a while, Xiao spoke again, his voice softer this time. “You remind me of someone I once knew. A junior Yaksha. They, too, believed in the purity of the wind.”

You tilted your head curiously. “What happened to them?”

“They were consumed by the very hatred they sought to dispel,” Xiao said, his tone laced with grief. “That is why I warn you. This world is not kind to those who carry its pain.”

“I understand,” you replied, though your heart ached for him. “But even so, I want to try. The winds can bring healing, too, can’t they?”

Xiao glanced at you, his expression unreadable. Then, with a faint sigh, he said, “If that is your choice, I will not stop you. But tread carefully.”

A small smile tugged at your lips. “Thank you, Xiao. For understanding.”

As you turned to leave, you heard him speak once more. “If you ever need assistance, call my name. I will answer.”

With the winds at your back, you left Wangshu Inn, feeling both the weight and the freedom of your task. And somewhere in the distance, Xiao watched, a flicker of hope stirring within him for the first time in centuries.