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For months the only thing Morax could see in the back of his eyelids was the brightest light in between all the smoke. For months, the only thing he could think about was the feather Venti left before disappearing. Between all the gifts Venti had given to Morax in all of the years, they got to know each other, one of his feathers was the last one.
Between the smoke, chaos, and blood dripping from his fingers; Morax saw Venti's wings expand. A sight he hadn't had the opportunity to witness in centuries: glorious and magnificent Barbatos. A flash of light and then he was gone, only leaving a feather behind him. With Venti's name dying on his lips, Morax reached towards the feather. A blinding white in the middle of the destruction.
While the Abyss was rampaging the seven nations of Teyvat, the memory of his last encounter with Barbatos was plaguing Morax’s thoughts. Of course, the last thing they did was argue, something Morax was not proud of. In those rare moments he had to himself, he tried not to think about the harsh words he said to Barbatos.
When all of this was said and done, Morax didn’t expect the wind to come back to Liyue at all. There was no use dwelling on the matter, after all, if Barbatos didn't want to come back or...couldn't, there was nothing that could be done. Reaching this conclusion did nothing to alleviate the acute pain Morax felt every time he touched the feather in his pocket, its presence a constant reminder.
Months passed like this until it was years and then decades.
Silence fell on Teyvat. The quiet pause after a catastrophe, until everything started over again.
Rebuilding was no easy task and Morax managed to isolate himself from every other nation under the excuse of being too concentrated on Liyue. The grief couldn’t sink its nails into his chest this way. He knew he did wrong; he knew he betrayed the Heavenly Principles, the people he swore to protect, and the beings that were closest to him.
Ninety years after the Cataclysm, most nations were back on their feet. The Abyssal invasion was a mere dark memory in the past, a memory Morax decided not to dwell on. It was going to have lasting consequences, but those weren’t going to be seen for a long time; for now, there was no better time than the present to focus on.
Barbatos’ feather found its place in a small vase, hidden in the realm that Streetward Rambler fixed for him.
If the wind were to come, well, Morax wouldn’t dare to hold such hopes. After all, besides the blinding light, Morax remembers the empty stare. Usually, bright eyes were dim, sharing an emotion that was never for him. A reminder that Morax was still the guardian dog of the Heavenly Principles, and there were no feelings a being such as Barbatos could have towards him.
It wasn’t until Alatus’s winds reached his ears, that he knew of the fate of the Anemo Archon. Cloud Retainer confirmed it when Morax reached Mount Aocang in desperation.
Barbatos had fallen poisoned by the Abyss, him, and the Dragon of the East. That’s when the dreams began.
*
The dreams start as such.
Windrise at dawn.
Even if Morax hasn’t been in Mondstadt in a century or more, he still remembers how the wind felt. How the Nation of the Wind sounded at its quieter. Then, it didn’t bother him as much, considering Venti made sure he was filling all the silences with either verses or a very detailed description of the latest gossip in his city. Now without Venti, it was a piercing silence.
Somewhere in his heart, Morax hopes Windrise still looks like in his memories. Even the city at the distance, with the windmills. While the people in Mondstadt have always been resilient, the Abyss infestation was devastating, and considering their Archon…
A wind wisp chirps on his ear and interrupts Morax’s train of thought.
Without checking twice, Morax knows who this is.
While not expecting to find Venti in this form, Morax isn’t surprised in the slightest. For Venti’s conscience to somehow reach him, wouldn’t be impossible for him to do. It wouldn’t be the first time Venti has done something similar, after all, bothering Morax was one of his favorite pastimes.
What surprises Morax is how happy the wind wisp is to see him. Chirping and floating around, trying to communicate something Morax doesn’t want to hear. Morax has had dreams before, dreams that start like this and develop into a nightmare; he would rather fool himself, think that Barbatos’ conscience has found him, and is happy to deliver better news. It would be like Barbatos to forget past quarrels, to try and brush all disagreements under a rug, and start acting like he’s not mad at Morax.
The chirping increases in volume and Morax closes his eyes. Turns out he’s still scared; scared to find out, scared that Barbatos doesn’t want to see him anymore.
So the dreams end up like this: The cries of a wind wisp fall on deaf ears and a stubborn stone that refuses to see.
*
“My lord,” Xiao calls.
“Alatus,” Morax responds.
“Lord Barbatos…”
Xiao doesn’t look at Morax, instead looking in the distance, in the direction of Mondstadt. Silence falls between them, and Morax doesn’t know if Xiao is somehow scared to mention Barbatos. Maybe, if news has reached Liyue about Barbatos’ status. The possibility of his death, still making rounds in Morax’s mind.
“He has reached me through dreams.”
“Alatus, I understand you miss his presence, but-”
“He has been trying to reach you.” Xiao sounds serious and finally frowns at Morax, and he has never seen the yaksha do something like that. “He wants to-”
“I see…”
“I understand if you are reluctant, but he has informed me his situation has been improving.”
That’s not what has Morax scared. Of course, Barbatos wouldn’t tell Xiao how much he hated Morax, and that he wanted to finally sever all ties with him through dreams. And Barbatos must be desperate to turn on a new page, to start a new story without Morax in his life, if he reached Xiao to help him deliver this message to him.
“Thank you, Xiao.”
The worry in Xiao’s eyes is also something new. Morax doesn’t think he’s taking this whole situation badly, he’s having complications, obviously, but nothing worse than that.
Liyue shines in the distance and Morax is exhausted.
*
Seeing as this new era is about doing things Morax never thought himself capable of, he chooses a direction and starts walking.
Nobody questions Rex Lapis' decisions, of course, he must know what he’s doing. If walking in full-on archon attire in Mondstadt’s direction is what the Geo Lord wants to do, then he’s in his own right to do so. All Rex Lapis does is within reason and he would never walk towards Mondstadt in a daze, just because his heart is bleeding. Because he has heard Makoto’s sister has locked herself in, and the oceanids think Egeria’s successor is intransigent and unreasonable. The Tsaritsa has started sending very worrying letters, and there have been rumors the ley lines in Natlan are completely destroyed. And the news coming from Sumeru hasn’t been that good either.
Mondstadt has been tranquil, Barbatos’ influence is always a constant in the winds. Morax’s heart tells him Barbatos would know what to do, and even if he didn’t they would be able to talk it out over a cup of tea and a nice dinner.
And the only thing Morax has in his heart is the pain of his friend’s absence.
Even after Xiao’s message, Morax hasn’t been able to stay in one of those dreams. The chirping of the wind wisp getting too close to cries, cries Morax has never heard come out of Barbatos’ lips. Even during those late nights, when he opened his heart to Morax, he smiled at him. A sad little thing.
On the bottom of Windrise and a couple of wine glasses in him, Venti was at his most honest when he was drunk and the same could be said of Morax. Hearing his old friend open his heart like that, made him want to lay down his grievances himself. There was nothing heavier than the heart of a god who would rather keep everything bottled up.
With all these memories making rounds in his mind, Morax finally arrives at Windrise. His heart feels lighter when he sees the Mondstadt of his memories still standing strong and steady. The tiredness of all these years falls on Morax, who sits down on the grass. The wind is the same as always, but the emptiness from his dreams is there, too. The Anemo Archon’s absence is clear to him, and now that he can feel it in the land of the wind, it makes Morax hurt more.
There are many things Morax wishes he could have changed from the last time they saw each other. He would have not lashed out; he shouldn’t have told Venti the things he did. Since the first time they met, Venti relied on Morax and he betrayed that trust that afternoon at Khaenri’ah when the red sun was high in the sky. When Venti looked like he was on the constant verge of tears, the smell of the abyss corrosion sticking on his wings.
“I’m sorry,” Morax finally tells the wind.
“What are you sorry for?” The wind answers.
“Everything.”
The dream sky replaces the night sky. A perpetual sunset at Windrise and a gentle breeze that is stronger than in the other dreams Morax has had. The connection with Venti’s conscience is sturdier here, making it obvious he has sealed himself somewhere close.
Soft laughter transforms into chirping and the wind wisp is in front of Morax again, but this time he doesn’t resist the urge to take it in his hands.
“Still sick, then.”
The wind wisp barely nods, flying from Morax’s hands to the top of his head. Making it impossible for Morax to look at the wisp directly. He sighs softly, no, they have never been good at making eye contact when talking about more serious topics. It has been made clear that it's time for Morax to speak about the things that have been torturing him these past years. Stop running away and closing his eyes. Many would say, Morax is not one to engage in this type of avoidant behavior, but that would just mean they haven't known him at all.
“I should have heard you out before, not letting you get hurt by shutting you out.”
The wind wisp remains silent.
“I have found some answers and I have made some alliances,” Morax inhales deeply, “I don’t want to be completely involved with them, and that has never been my final goal.”
On top of his head, Morax hears muffled chirping. I know, I’m sorry for assuming you did.
Morax sighs. So this is it, the confession, the thing that has kept him from talking to the wind wisp in the first place, “I wouldn’t blame you if you did. I half expected you to cut me off for it.”
Everything from angry chirping to a confirmation of his deepest fears was what Morax expected, not suddenly falling on his back because a wind wisp took him by the hair. It doesn’t need to say much for Morax to know the wind wisp is mad at him, but not for the reasons he expected it to. Morax doesn't make the effort to sit back up again, he resigns to his fate. The wind wisp sits on his chest, its little limbs crossed.
What else could I expect from a blockhead?
It's said with sadness and there are many other things Morax wants to tell Venti. Big confessions and small ones, apologies and declarations of love. He wants to tell Venti there's nobody else in this world, that when all seems lost he's the one he looks for. When Khaenri'ah fell, and they were summoned, he wanted to hold his hand, no matter how inappropriate it was at that moment.
Morax wants to tell Venti that he chose a name and that when the new era finally comes, he wants to face it with him by his side.
“Barbatos.”
Silence.
“Venti.”
Not even a slight breeze.
“Love.”
The chirping starts again and it sounds so close to cries. Deep sobs that come from its little chest, and Morax has never known what to do with someone crying. Part of him is glad he isn’t seeing Venti in his usual form crying, not consoling him would kill him, but he has never been the more adequate to do such a thing.
When the chirping dies down, the wind wisp turns back to him. You are crying.
Morax touches his cheek, finding it wet with tears. “I suppose I am.”
You have missed me.
“I have.”
And that was the easiest thing Morax has said in about two centuries.
When the sun finally falls in the dream, everything starts to fade away. For the first time in years, the dream doesn’t end with the desperate cries of the wind wisp.
I will be up and about in less of what you expect. I promise.
“When you wake up, I-”
Won’t be there?
Morax bites his cheek. The world keeps spinning and the days keep turning into weeks, months, and years. Something totally different is coming their way, and there are different fears Morax has to look out for. And at the end of the day, Venti and him keep quiet about important things that should be said out loud.
“I love you.”
The wind wisp keeps quiet and Morax can see Venti’s bright eyes looking back at him, with that shocked expression of his. The last he sees from Venti before being greeted by the night sky is a shy expression and a whisper that Morax keeps in his heart and doesn’t dare replicate or revisit.
When he goes back to Liyue, Zhongli goes to Venti’s teapot realm, takes the white feather, and sets it free.