Cecilias at your Altar

“Well then, Windblume Star, have you decided on your offering to Lord Barbatos?” Acting Grand Master Jean asked, smiling genially as if she wasn’t putting Aether on the spot in front of the entirety of Mondstadt.

He looked up at the Anemo archon’s statue, decorated in countless colorful flowers, and handcrafted gifts. He had been so busy running around doing errands and helping others that he hadn’t really had time to consider. Everyone seemed to have a different opinion on what a Windblume was, which made things even more difficult.

So he did the next best thing he could think about. He turned to the statue’s likeness, the green-clad bard standing by his side.

“What would you like?” He asked, simple and to the point. His voice was quiet, barely a whisper lost in the bustle of the city, but it reached the god just fine.

Venti tilted his head, a coy smile on his lips. “Aren’t we sneaky? I’m afraid that I cannot give you an answer, as that would be cheating. Pick your Windblume, oh little star.”

“I’m older than you and that’s lame,” He scrunched up his nose, a blush dusting his cheeks anyway. Venti giggled even as Jean scolded them for ‘revealing their identities without a care in the world’. Aether sighed to himself, before stepping up to the statue.

He rummaged through his trustworthy bag, thinking about the many, many offerings the other citizens had thought of, the meaning behind each gift, and behind each gesture, and made his decision.

He pulled out a Cecilia, slightly bruised from being kept in a bag for so long, but still whole, and gently deposited it at the offering basin.

It looked puny, a single plucked flower in a sea of colorful roses, dandelions and windwheels, but Aether was smiling as he stepped back.

Venti looked just as proud as he nodded to himself, “An interesting choice, so-?”

He cut himself off as Aether offered a second Cecilia to him, not quite meeting his eyes.

“This is…?”

“I just thought it would be nice to give one to you too.” Aether valiantly ignored the crowd around them, obliviously cheering them on, while Jean and Paimon both kept a watchful eye on them. “And well, the flowers look better on you anyway.”

“Oh,” The bard with the vibrant eyes said, his cheeks painted like delicate rose petals as he accepted the offering. He opened his mouth several times, as if he were at a loss for words. Then he just bit his lip. “Hey, why don’t we go somewhere quieter? I know just the place!”

“Sure,” Aether said immediately, also valiantly trying to ignore the catcalls of the nosy citizens around them. Maybe they should have had this conversation in a different place to begin with. The traveler cleared his throat, making a decision on the spot. “Fine by me but… do you mind if I meet you there?”

Venti arched a curious eyebrow but shrugged anyway, verdant eyes glimmering with mischief. “Alright, good luck finding me then!”

And like a playful breeze, he took off, jumping over flowering pots, and ducking under elegant wreaths, and disappearing in the blink of an eye.

“Hey, so, where are you even going to meet?” Paimon flew over to him to ask, wholly unimpressed by her companion. “Don’t tell me you’re going to spend the rest of the festival just playing hide and seek?”

“I have a clue where he might be,” Aether replied, as they walked over to the Good Hunter, away from giggling citizens. “And if I can’t find him, I’ll just ask the wind.”

“Har-har, very funny,” The little spren said, arms crossed. “Why did you even let him go alone? He’s a danger to himself and you, mister, are so smitten you are embarrassing to look at.”