A/N: Alcohol and drunkeness ahead, though as safely done and softly done as possible!


Mondstadt was a place of peace and freedom, a place to stretch one's wings.

It wasn't often that Zhongli found himself in Barbatos's territory. Though the rolling green hills and soft winds were familiar and friendly enough, it only took moments before he missed the vastness of Liyue, the bustle of the harbour, the solid weight of history curving like tangled roots through the soil.

But still, as much as he craved the taste of home, there was something inviting about the springy grass beneath his feet, the way the sun rolled steadily down the blue sky like a curtain falling. Zhongli took a well-travelled route across the river that marked the end of Liyque's territory, dispatching the odd monster when the occasion called for it. Clusters of cor lapix studded the bank by the time he arrived on the other side, and his sleeves were soaked with water and slime.

"Regretful," he murmured, shaking the water out.

But the harassment was worth it for the way that Dawn Winery rose up ahead, peering through the trees. It was a rustic structure, sturdy and strong. The air smelled of wood and wine. He slipped across the patio unseen and scouted the inside of the restaurant, but there was no sign of the person he was searching for. He ducked back outside, nodding politely to a startled maid, and reached out with his mind, searching.

It had been some few years since they last met in person, although there was the odd dream, and the traveller brought word when he could. Yet despite the distance, it was easy to find Barbatos's cool, flighty presence.

Venti, as he went by now.

A current ran around his waist, dizzying and playful. Zhongli kept his feet, impossible to unbalance, and his mouth quirked into a smile. He strode around the outside of the Winery. The fading sunlight cast an orange glow over the cobblestones, but there was still enough light to see the green figure lounging on the low wall that ran around the outside of the building. A few bottles lay strewn on the ground, and another dangled from his fingers, threatening to drop. There was a mellow smile on his face, aimed at nothing and everything.

"You felt it, didn't you?" Venti said, without looking at him. "Whatever the traveller did in Inazuma, it lifted the veil between our lands. I think we could walk in unannounced if we wanted to."

"I did feel it," Zhongli said, pausing just a few feet away. "Admittedly, not as strong as I once would have."

"Well, I guess that makes sense," Venti said. "I haven't had the pleasure of hearing from the Electro Archon yet, but my senses are telling me that you have."

He didn't sound upset, but there was something dryly amused about his tone. Zhongli recalled several years of painful conversation, poking and provoking, and countless arguments between them. If he weren't more practised in keeping a straight face, he would have winced.

"I received a message from the Raiden Shogun," Zhongli admitted. "And one from Ei. Whatever the traveller is doing, I think it's safe to assume that he'll continue to do it."

"We should expect more messages then."

"Indeed."

Venti swung his legs off the wall but didn't rise, flopping down on the floor beside the bottles instead. He still wore the same emerald green outfit, and his face was unchanging, still as boyish but sharp as always. He looked at Zhongli intently, his cleverness cleverly hidden, and then patted the cobblestones.

"Please, join me! It's been a long time since we drank together. I don't have any sake, I'm afraid, but I stole-ahem, scavenged, some very nice wine earlier. It should keep us going for a while."

Zhongli ignored the slip of tongue. It wasn't quite the reunion he'd imagined, but in many ways it was exactly what he expected. The God of Freedom didn't dwell on old moments very often. He gracefully settled beside him and picked up one of the bottles, reading the label intently.

"Did you walk here? Or did you, y'know—?" And here Venti made a funny little motion with his arms, flapping them in the air before letting them drop, crossing them behind his head instead. "Must make things easier, flying everywhere."

"I am not currently in possession of my power, as you are well aware," Zhongli said.

Venti grinned at him, leaning back against the wall. "Heh. That didn't actually answer my question."

"How many of these have you had?" Zhongli asked, tipping the almost-empty bottle his way.

Venti shrugged. Zhongli placed it gingerly down on the ground with a fond sigh. Far be it for him to judge an old friend for how they dealt with the crushing pressure of immortal life, but he did wish Venti would choose less efficient vices. It was hard to hold a conversation with someone who was three sheets to the wind.

"You know, there's a saying," Venti said, spiriting two drinking glasses out of the air with a sly smile. "If you can't beat them, you should join them."

The glass was shaped like a flower, the edges curved like petals. Zhongli allowed him to fill it to the brim with dandelion wine, a Mondstadt staple, and sipped slowly. The notes slid across his tongue, and he closed his eyes to savour the taste. Sunlight bled across the fields, turning the vineyard into a sea of shadows, but there was a peacefulness to it that echoed how he felt inside.

"Do you think Ei lost her Gnosis too?" Venti asked.

Zhongli opened his eyes. The question was not unexpected, but it threatened the tentative peace building inside him.

"It would make sense," he said slowly. "I couldn't glean anything from either of the letters, but she wants to meet. Not now, of course. Later, when she's had time to process how things are changing."

"She never did like change." Venti stared into his glass and let out a small snort. "I mean, what do you expect from the God of Eternity? I used to think it was silly, but I think I understand it more now."

"How are you coping?" Zhongli asked, carefully avoiding looking at the wine bottles nearby.

"I should be asking you that. You lost your Gnosis way more recently than I did."

Zhongli took another drink, staring out at the hills. The wine was strong and heady, and he could already feel the effect on his tongue, if nothing else. It had been a long time since he last indulged, but with any luck, he would be able to keep his wits about him.

"Our situations are different," Zhongli said eventually. "I was able to navigate a desirable outcome. Losing my gnosis was by design, rather than by force. In many ways, it was given, rather than taken. You were not able to make such a decision, and I expect your feelings on the subject are rather different than mine."

"I've made my peace with it," Venti said, waving away his dubious look. "Really. It was painful at first, but it almost felt inevitable. It's not so bad, you know? It's weirdly freeing."

"I suppose you would know," Zhongli said, in a terrible attempt at a joke.

Venti stared at him in amazement, and then his mouth widened in an incredulous smile. "Ha, I didn't even notice. It's a great personal shame when Rex Lapis notices a joke before I do."

"It's Zhongli now."

"I'll remember it," Venti said, with a fleeting note of seriousness. "But enough about that! We were talking about our Gnosis, weren't we? Truthfully, it doesn't bother me, so you shouldn't worry too much. I think the traveller was the start of everything changing, and now that it's started, it's not going to stop. Best to let things happen as they were always meant to. Besides, how can you possibly feel bad when you're surrounded by all this?"

He waved a hand at the deepening sky, at the hills that were turning to shadow and the sun that sank low beneath the sea, tainting it gold.

"I must admit, it's a beautiful view," Zhongli said. "Not quite as spectacular as Liyue, of course, but…"

Venti threw back his head and laughed brightly—and for a moment, the illusion faded. He was no longer a bright-eyed bard with a boyish face and a charmingly sly smile. Instead there was a spirit of endless grace and madness in his place, a creature of glorious freedom, a soul taking flight right in front of him. Barbatos smiled wildly at him, eyes gleaming like glass, and Zhongli felt something settle in his chest like a lock clicking into place.

"Hello, old friend," he murmured.

Venti's smile shrunk into a small, crooked thing. The vision of Barbatos shimmered like an after-image, but they were one in the same, truly, and sitting next to Venti didn't feel much different in the long run. Zhongli sipped down the last of his wine, indulging in the quiet moment. He wasn't yet light-headed, but there was a faint tingling in his fingertips. He rubbed them together curiously.

"Strange, the physical form," he said, and was surprised to find that his words were slurring together slightly.

"Oh, don't get all existential on me, old man," Venti warned, forgoing the glass and snatching up the bottle. "You still had a physical form even when you were a dragon."

"But this one is very different. I confess I don't…"

Venti cocked his head. "Don't what?"

"I don't exactly feel at home in this body." It wasn't something he'd voiced before, too stubborn to admit to weakness, but now it fell from his mouth. "I don't understand why. It's not as if I didn't wear it before."

"I've seen the statues," Venti said, with another sly grin. He looked him over in a very obvious way that Zhongli would usually have ignored, but for some reason an unfortunate blush rose to his cheeks, turning them hot.

"You're blushing!" Venti crowed victoriously. "I've never made you blush before!"

"It's the alcohol," Zhongli denied, and it was partly true. "I don't have the same tolerance for it. Or for your leering."

"Heh." Venti plied him with more wine; this brand was different and seemed to come from nowhere, a strange key lime colour, vibrant and toxic-looking against the glass. "What were you saying about your body?"

"You're doing this on purpose," Zhongli said, though he still sipped the wine. It tasted like key lime too, sweet and tart.

"Absolutely. But probably not for the reasons you're thinking."

Zhongli arched an eyebrow. His other one rose to join it accidentally, and try as he might, it would not go down.

"Okay, maybe for some of the reasons you're thinking," Venti said, throwing him a wink. "But you'd be surprised how brave people get when they've had a few drinks. It won't work the same way for us, but it still lowers our inhibitions. We talk a lot, but we don't really say anything. This stuff helps."

It wasn't something he'd considered before. He knew he could talk for hours, spinning tales and recounting facts and recalling history until the listeners were no longer listening. It wasn't that he liked the sound of his own voice, but rather that his mind worked better when he thought out loud. History often went unsaid, and considering how much he had witnessed, it felt wrong to let it live in silence. But Venti was right. None of the Archons were particularly forthcoming, and sometimes it weighed on them heavily, all the words they would never say.

"I never would have considered using wine to inspire honesty, but I suppose there's no harm in it," he said, examining the shimmering green liquid. "Although I don't think I have much to say."

Venti hummed, swinging the bottle lightly from his fingers. "I don't know about that. Do you regret giving away your Gnosis?"

Zhongli's mouth twisted. Did he regret it? No. Yes. Perhaps, but only in the lull of evening. Only when the nights turned mellow and the space between his shoulder-blades ached. Only when the gap between what he knew and what he needed to know widened to an unbearable chasm. It was odd, being the one to play catch-up. It was odd, feeling like so much less of himself.

"Sometimes," he admitted, with a dry mouth. "Sometimes it hurts to think about, as you said. But I shouldn't say that."

Venti nudged him gently. "It's just me here."

"It's a lot to deal with," he said. "I'm not quite as bad as the dear Raiden Shogun, but I do not do well with change either. It haunts me, sometimes."

Zhongli fell into silence, tracing the line of fading light as it eked along the cobbles. Venti allowed him the stillness, tapping out a tune on the wine bottle with his fingertips.

"But I always come back to the same feeling," Zhongli blurted, unable to keep it all in. "Sometimes I'm afraid that it was a mistake, and I regret it, but then it fades, and I remember why I made the choice I made. Mostly, I feel at peace."

"At peace?"

It was a struggle to put it into words—or it was in the light of day, when he was sober and surrounded by people that didn't know the truth. But now the words came easily, if slowly, shared between a friend in the shadow of the setting sun.

"We always used to be larger than life," he said. "Always fighting, always darting between one war and another. We made so many mistakes and brought pain and suffering to so many, even as we lifted others up. I do not regret it, not really, although if I could go back, I would do things differently. But I needed a change. My main concern was that I would lose Liyue when I gave up my Gnosis, and I suppose I have, in a way. But she is still there to welcome me home, and there are good hands protecting her. What else would I feel but peace, knowing that whatever choices I might have made, the land I love will still welcome me home?"

Silence fell again, a little softer now. Embarrassment snuck up on him, uncharacteristic and tinged pink. He cleared his throat and shook his head, regretting it when the dizziness struck.

"Regardless, it is done now," he said. "We are in a time of relative peace, and the choices cannot be undone. It makes no sense to dwell on it for long."

Venti sighed, sounding a little wistful. "Yeah, you're right. It's out of our hands now. Or at least until the traveller pulls us back in."

Zhongli nodded, his head tipping forward too far. He felt lackadaisical, a little sluggish as he leaned fully against the wall. He held the glass as though it was made out of air, loose and trusting. Eyes turned to the last stretch of gold on the horizon, spun out of sunlight.

"You were right," he said. "It is easier to feel brave with this in your system."

"I had a feeling you used to filter out the sake whenever we drank together, and now I know I was right," Venti said, chuckling. "Waste of alcohol, if you ask me! But it's not like you can do that now, so we should take it easy."

He stole the glass out of Zhongli's hand and swallowed the contents in one clean gulp. Zhongli would have protested, but one more sip might have sent him tumbling despite the fact that he was already sitting down, so it was probably for the best.

"Okay, enough boring talk." Venti swung around to face him, cross-legged with a crooked grin. "I've heard a lot of rumours, you know. People talk, and the wind tells me what they say."

Zhongli eyed him warily. "I sense that you're leading up to something I won't enjoy talking about."

Venti leaned forward, his eyes gleaming again, with mischief this time. "From what I've heard, half your problem comes from just how much you enjoy talking about your Fatui Harbinger."

"Ah." Zhongli was ashamed to say that his cheeks felt warm, although he was happy enough to blame that on the dandelion wine. "Yes, well. He makes for an interesting topic of conversation."

"Heh, he does, doesn't he?" Venti nudged him with his foot. "Feel free to start the conversation. I'll just be here, listening."

Zhongli sighed, resigned, and spirited the other wine bottles towards him. "There is a saying that roughly translates to 'in wine there is truth, in water there is good sense.' And since good sense seems to be lacking this evening, we may as well indulge in a tad more wine, don't you agree?"

He did not say that he was a little bit excited to talk about a certain Fatui Harbinger, but Venti didn't need him to say it. He threw back his head and laughed, and slung an arm around Zhongli's shoulder, beaming from ear to ear.

"I couldn't have put it better myself."


[Word Count: 2,870]