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Summary
“Do you ever wonder if the Anemo Archon hears you more clearly than anyone else?” he said more softly, his voice dipping into something low and intimate.
You blinked, surprised by the sudden seriousness of his tone.
“I…” You hesitated, the question strange and unfamiliar. “I just sing with all my heart. If everyone liked my singing, then that’s enough for me. But…” you paused, fiddling the cross around your finger as you looked across the altar and stared at the relics displayed. “It would be nice if the Anemo Archon heard me and liked my voice.”
Venti's expression shifted, his eyes turning up in delight just barely.
“Of course he loves it, angel. That’s why it reaches him.” He leaned in again, just close enough for his breath to brush against your ear.
“And it drives him wild, you know.”