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Smth abt zhongven man…..uuuurrggh
Gods who’ve lived through thick and thin together, only growing closer as each of the other Seven passes away. The table once full of familiar faces replaced with new ones.
Venti laying his head on Zhongli’s lap, strumming an old song from a bygone era, in old Inazuman or Fontainian dialect, only for a small tear tear to plop down on his cheek from above as Zhongli remembers the archons who have passed.
He holds Venti tighter, sighing, and Venti just continues to sing.
Once upon a time they couldn’t stand each other’s guts. And yet they slowly began to realize how precious each other’s company was, how they were wasting time and breath keeping up these pretenses of repulsion.
No one else in the world would remember the songs Venti sang, besides Zhongli.
No one would remember the tales of Archons past, besides Venti.
Perhaps they can forge a new future, together, and not completely let go of the past.