#albeven

Venti's response is a hollow laugh. "We're stuck under a mountain, Albedo. There's nothing to talk about."

"Sing," Albedo suggests, grasping at straws. "Sing something, anything. It doesn't matter. Just... distract yourself for a moment."

"I don't think I can, right now." Venti admits, his voice barely a whisper.

"Then tell me a story.”

Venti hesitates, but eventually he speaks. His voice trembles against Albedo’s collarbone as he tries to weave his thoughts together into something coherent. He falters halfway through his story. “I can’t move.”

“I know.”

"Have you thought of anything yet?" Less than useless , he thinks to himself again. An archon of all things. He’d levelled mountains before. But it was one thing to do from above, and another from below . 

Without his gnosis, without a single errant breeze, without any connection to his element, and with no idea how far the stone stretched in any direction. He feels like he’s drowning in tar. He feels like his hands, wings, eyes, have all been removed. He feels small and afraid and powerless in a way he hasn’t for five centuries.

"Not yet. But I will. I promise."

The bard swallows hard. "Albedo... do you need to eat?"

Albedo hesitates at the suddenness of the question. He frowns in the darkness. "No, I don't. But if I go long enough without food, I will eventually lose the energy to remain conscious."

Venti's voice hitches. "So we're on a time limit."

"No,” Albedo amends quickly. “It's not like that. It would take a significant amount of time before I reach that point. We have time, Venti."

Venti's voice is barely a whisper. "I don't need it. I'll exist indefinitely. I could disembody, but…” he doesn’t want to. He would still be trapped. As a human, at least he can feel Albedo’s heartbeat. At least he can grip his jacket. At least he has something tangible to hold onto. At least he can speak . Disembodying wouldn’t free him.

It would leave an empty space for the mountain to collapse a second time, crushing Albedo further. Filling in every last inch of empty air. He didn’t know what would happen to him as a wind spirit under a thousand tonnes of stone with no way out and no way left to interact with the world.

It would also leave Albedo effectively alone.

The thought clearly terrifies him. They're trapped under a mountain, two immortal beings who don't need to eat or breathe, who can't move an inch, buried under tons of rock. Eventually, Albedo will lose enough energy to become unresponsive, and Venti will be entirely alone. Or Venti will lose his mind and become unresponsive, and Albedo will be alone. Alone and trapped and unable to so much as wriggle, for a possible eternity.

"Venti," Albedo calls softly, seeing the panic overtaking his friend's face again. "Give me time. I can solve this.”

.

Days pass. Days without moving. Albedo has a perfect sense of time. Venti should , but he chooses not to. Not right now. He alternates between out-of-body experience and far too in-body , grounded and trapped and tethered and entirely physical in a way that he's never hated before now. He alternates between turning his mind off and letting time slip past him, not wanting to track it’s passage, and forcing himself to speak.

At first, he thinks, it was distracting to Albedo. Now he thinks it’s reassuring. Albedo doesn’t want to be alone any more than he does, so he tries to lose himself less. That means talking more, singing rarely, when he can, and crying often. 

It’s difficult and awkward and entirely involuntary. His chest can’t heave, he isn’t breathing anyway, and what feels like they want to be sobs turn into wet tears and dry noises. 

"I don't know how much longer I can do this," Venti rasps, voice raw.

Albedo's response is a quiet murmur. "I can feel the mountain settling."

Venti's heart sinks even further. The mountain presses in on them, filling every crevice, every empty space, until there is nothing left in between. Venti shudders, the weight of the rocks pressing in on him. Something in his chest creaks as the weight grows.

“I have an idea.” Albedo says, unexpectedly. “But I have to wait for the mountain to stop shifting. I need you to wait a little longer.”

Venti’s voice cracks painfully against Albedo’s chest. "Okay."

.

More days pass. The silence between them is punctuated only by Venti’s occasional whimpers of distress and Albedo’s quiet reassurances that he has a plan.

"Venti," Albedo speaks, breaking the suffocating silence. "I've been keeping track of the movement of the stones this whole time. I think I've gotten a feel for how they want to settle."

Venti shifts slightly, the most movement he’s been able to manage. "What do you mean?"

"I believe I can safely clear us some space now. But I can't make any guarantees. Any attempt to move could make our situation worse. I want you to know that before I try anything."

Venti's response is immediate and fervent. "Do it, Albedo. Please. It can't get worse than this. If you think you can do anything, then you should do it."

“Very well. I'm going to use my Vision. Stay still and try to remain calm." 

With a determined expression, Albedo closes his eyes and focuses on the ambient Geo energy surrounding them. It has been a long time since he fine tuned his Solar Isotoma, and he rarely channels Geo without it. There’s no space to form one here, and his goals are more ambitious than that anyway. 

He begins to channel it, feeling the stones around them with an acute sensitivity. Slowly, carefully, he starts to manipulate the rock, reshaping it and molding it together into a small dome around them. The process is slow and painstaking, every movement measured. It’s a level of control few Vision wielders ever actually achieve, and one that even Albedo has rarely needed to use.

After what feels like an eternity, the space around them begins to open up. It's not much, but it's enough for them to sit up. Venti feels the pressure around him lessen and, with a groan of effort, he pushes himself off of Albedo and rolls onto his back. He tries to take a deep breath out of instinct, but ends up choking on the heavy, dusty carbon dioxide. He doesn’t need oxygen, but he’s definitely gotten used to it.

Albedo sits up slowly, wincing as he checks himself over for injuries. "Most of my bones are broken," he observes. "But since no material was lost, I can fix that easily enough with alchemy."

Venti nods weakly, taking stock of his own crush injuries. “Yup… me too, but I won't be able to heal myself down here."

For a moment, the newfound space is filled with nothing but the sounds of his laboured breaths. Albedo isn’t bothering to breathe at all, but Venti needs to feel the familiar comfort of it, even if all he’s doing is circulating stale air through his body.

Venti leans back against the wall, tears streaming down his face. This time, they are tears of relief, the simple act of being able to move bringing an overwhelming sense of gratitude. "Albedo... can you do that again? Can you get us out?"

Albedo is already nodding. This was ultimately the only solution he could come up with. It would be time consuming, painstaking, and possibly take more energy than he was sure he had to give. "It should be possible. But it will take time. I need to move small pieces at a time to make sure nothing more will collapse. But yes, we should be able to get out this way."

Venti's relief is thick and as cloying as the air. He sags, completely unashamed as he cycles between crying, scrubbing at his face, and tipping his head against the wall and giggling. "Thank you, Albedo. Thank you, thank you. And... I'm sorry for being totally useless."

Albedo shakes his head, brushing off the apology. "It's not your fault, Venti. Underground is one of the worst places for an Anemo user to be, yet you came anyway. You don't need to be useful at all times."

Venti smiles and manages to stop crying for long enough to sit up and start wiping away at the tears on his face. His skin and clothing are both covered in dust and grit. Combined with the wetness on his face, it just results in muddy smears across his cheeks and sleeves.

His clothes are probably never going to recover from this. The white shirt, at least, is never going to be white again. “Thank you, Albedo. I know I’ve said it a dozen times but, thank you . I would not be okay right now if I was alone…”

Albedo isn’t sure how to respond to that. He’s pretty sure ‘I know’ would come across as rude, so he simply nods. 

His injuries are painful and inconvenient, and easily fixable. But Albedo has no idea how long it’s going to take him to get them out of here, and he doubts he’ll have the energy to spare, so he opts to ignore them for now. They can be dealt with easily enough once they’re above ground again. For now, he simply leans against the wall and closes his eyes. Beside him, Venti does the same.

After the brief rest, Albedo begins the painstaking process of manipulating the stone around them, inch by inch, carefully creating a path to freedom. It’s time consuming, taxing, and there isn’t much progress to show for it.

Hours pass in a monotonous rhythm, punctuated by the sound of shifting stone. Albedo has to move slowly, with precision, moving small pieces of Geo at a time. Any rush could result in a misstep, and any misstep could bring the ceiling back down on them again. In between each effort, he takes a short rest, feeling the mountain, ensuring that the cavern's stability isn't compromised.

The sheer scale of the task is immense. Albedo is reshaping a mountain, a Herculean feat that requires precision and an enormous amount of Geo manipulation. Despite doing it in intervals, he's using a massive amount of power. 

To Venti, Albedo appears no different now than he does at any other time – composed, focused, unwavering. But then, without warning, Albedo swoons, catching himself on the wall, his vision narrowing and darkening.

"Albedo!" Venti exclaims, his voice tinged with alarm.

Albedo's voice is steady but strained. "I can't keep going like this," he murmurs, his voice betraying his exhaustion. "I need to rest for a bit. Just a short rest..."

Venti eyes him with concern. "You've been pushing yourself too hard for my sake, haven't you?" he asks softly, guilt washing over him.

Albedo, never quite understanding the point of lying about trivial interpersonal matters, nods weakly as Venti tuts at him. He lays down on his side, his body almost immediately succumbing to the fatigue. He falls asleep instantly, leaving Venti alone in the dark tunnel. The faint glow of their Visions provides the only illumination, casting eerie shadows on the stone walls. Even fainter is the soft light emanating from Venti's braids, always there, and only barely visible because of the absolute darkness surrounding them.

Venti sits back against the wall, staring into the oppressive blackness around them. He can't help but feel a bit responsible for Albedo's condition. The alchemist had been pushing himself beyond his limits, all for the sake of getting them out of this nightmare.

A nightmare which, also, come to think of it, is entirely Venti’s fault. Albedo told him not to use Anemo, had explicitly said that the tunnel was unstable.

But what was Venti supposed to do? Let Albedo get - come to think of it, yes. Albedo was durable. Albedo probably could have taken a few more hits, even unconscious. Venti could have just finished off the hilichurl with a regular old arrow, and then waited for Albedo to wake up, and then the two of them could have walked back out together.

This whole thing would have been resolved days ago, with a lot less crying from Venti, and a lot less effort from Albedo.

Albedo had probably already figured that out.

Venti buries his face in his hands. If the situation wasn’t so horrible , he’d already be laughing at his own stupidity and how he panicked for no good reason. 

Time stretches endlessly, each second feeling longer than the last. Venti shifts uncomfortably, once again reminded of his many, many broken bones. He glances, grimacing, at the still sleeping Albedo. 

He’s lucky. Lucky it was him and Albedo. If he’d knocked a mountain on top of anyone else, he would have killed them. That still hasn’t fully settled in his mind. He knocked a mountain on top of Albedo. Well, and himself. They were trapped, crushed, for days. They were still trapped, and only making any progress because of Albedo.

When Venti called himself ‘less than useless’, he hadn’t meant it literally, but he shudders now, recalling those words. He wasn’t just useless in solving this problem. He caused this problem.

At least most of the problems he caused were usually on purpose. This one… not so much. 

He cannot believe he dropped a mountain on someone.

Hours pass in this manner, Venti's mind wandering this way and that. He’s still uncomfortable, anxious, desperate to get out of here and into the fresh air and sun again, to throw himself into the first patch of grass he sees and never take the wind for granted again, but it’s calmed down significantly since Albedo started carving his way through the mountain.

There’s hope now, and that’s enough to keep Venti from anymore crying.

Eventually, Albedo stirs, his eyes fluttering open.

"Albedo," Venti says, relief flooding his voice. "How are you feeling?"

Albedo pushes himself up slowly, wincing slightly. "Better," he replies, though his voice is still tinged with exhaustion. "I can continue now."

Venti creeps closer, placing a gentle hand on Albedo's shoulder. "Don't push yourself too hard. We need you to be okay. I need you to be okay-” He cuts himself off, frowning at how selfish that sounds. “I don’t mean, not because I need you to get out, I do, but- that’s not why I want you to be okay. I just don’t want you to hurt yourself. It’s okay if we take a little longer to get out.”

Albedo watches Venti ramble, not interrupting. Venti is so distracted that he doesn’t even realize he’s earned one of Albedo’s rare smiles, though it seems to be because the alchemist is laughing internally at his expense. "I'll be careful," he promises. 

He resumes his work, but this time at a slower pace, taking more frequent breaks. The progress is slow, but they are moving forward, inch by painstaking inch.

The tunnel around them gradually widens. Albedo rests a hand on the wall, and stands still for a brief moment, which stretches into a much longer moment. He sags slightly, his head tipping forward until his forehead rests on the wall as well.

Venti follows behind him, as unhelpful as always, and reaches forward when he sees Albedo sag. A hand on his shoulder, worry in his eyes. “Are you okay?” He doesn’t want to see Albedo faint again.

To his surprise, Albedo stands straighter and turns to look at the bard, a satisfied smile on his face. “I’m fine. We are about to reconnect with the original tunnels. They never collapsed all the way. From here, it should be a short walk back to the surface.”

Venti stares at his face for a moment, actually needing a minute to process his words. He hears them, he understands them, but he can’t make sense of them. They’ve been underground for so long now - days, days upon days. More than a week has passed, and Venti can’t quite believe that freedom is just on the other side of this wall.

He finds the world spinning, and hands catch him as his knees buckle. It seems it’s his turn to swoon, dizzy from the headrush. He quickly rights himself, though. There’s no time for fainting when the way out is right there!

The next time Albedo’s Vision lights up, the wall in front of them collapses outwards, spilling into a tunnel. There’s light again. Light from the quartz, from the moss, and most tellingly, the warm glow of sunlight spilling in from not too far away.

More important than any of that, Venti can breathe . His whole body comes alive. He can feel the air, real air. The breeze from outside beckons and his feet are moving before he can spare a single thought towards what he’s doing. He pushes past Albedo and runs for the exit.

Albedo follows. Not quite as fast, staggering slightly. Now that the urgency is gone, the need to keep up, stay awake, keep moving, the knowledge that he was the only one who could get them out, his exhaustion catches up to him.

He reaches the exit of the tunnel, in time to see Venti hurl himself face first into a snow drift. Giggling, giddy, arms outstretched above him.

Leaning heavily on the entrance, a hand braced against the stone, Albedo sees for the first time in full (fading, golden orange) sunlight just how terrible they both look. Venti is covered in a fine layer of dust, his face and clothing streaked with the coppery browns and reds of mud and so much blood.

Albedo probably only looks slightly better, and even then, only because he doesn’t bleed the same way Venti does.

They both look like corpses.

If they’d been anyone else, they would be corpses.

The fatigue hits him slowly as he stumbles outside towards Venti. His legs fold beneath him, dropping him cross legged in a move that looks at least mostly intentional, beside the bard.