Chapter Text
It begins, as it tends to do, with the Traveler.
Barbara will never say she gets tired of her day to day activities, but at the end of the day, she often is. She’s responsible for more than most people in Mondstadt understand, because not only is she responsible for many of the church’s activities, she’s also the closest thing to a doctor the city has (thanks to her Hydro vision, not any formal training, which definitely doesn’t give her imposter syndrome), and she has her idol duties to attend to. The days are long, the work is often hard, and no matter how much she sings, the smiles will never stay on people’s faces. The Traveler is a large help in that aspect—what Barbara can’t do, they will. They bring news of Glory’s boyfriend from far away. They heal Anna and guide her through adventurer training. Every day, Barbara sees them running around Mondstadt completing minor tasks for the citizens and feels grateful knowing that they’re here to help in the first place.
But all the same, she feels guilty about it. They can accomplish so much in so little time, and not only in Mondstadt—she’s heard word of their good deeds throughout the entirety of Teyvat, and she’s happy for them! It was probably difficult being so far from home, missing a sibling, and accomplishing so much. She’s proud of them for making it work.
Of course, it makes her question why she can’t do more. Why can’t she help heal Anna? Why can’t she do it all and go to bed and wake up with energy, like it’s all easy? She works so hard, and yet… Why isn’t it enough?
She never allows herself to wallow in those thoughts for too long. Getting bogged down by the small things would only lead to her having an even harder time accomplishing anything, and she does do a lot. Still, Barbara is Mondstadt’s one and only idol, and she refuses to let anything chase away her smile!
Not even when she really wishes she could be left alone for a minute.
It’s late at night. Barbara is tired. Really, she should be home by now, but she had a performance that ran later than she intended because she just couldn’t say no when the little kids asked her for an encore. Her limbs feel heavy, her throat is sore, and she just knows the minute she gets home, she’ll be collapsing into bed. Before that, though, she needs to get honey or risk her voice being utterly dead tomorrow morning. Her tired eyes scan the shelves, taking in the price tags that look blurrier and blurrier with every passing second, and when she hears footsteps behind her she nearly decides to just go home instead of gritting her teeth and bearing more social interaction, but– no. She’s better than that. The person behind her stops walking and takes a breath, and she’s already putting her smile back on.
“Oh-ho, and here I thought there wouldn't be any excitement this late at night!” They say. Barbara looks over her shoulder to see one of the city’s bards peering over her shoulder curiously. He’s the one with the strange jellyfish hair, the one with his hat always perched precariously on his head as if he doesn’t fear the wind blowing it away, and the one that Barbara keeps needing to scold when he talks about Barbatos committing utterly unbecoming acts while begging for wine. In the end, he isn't the greatest evil the city has had to face, but… well. Barbara would be lying if she’d said she didn’t have some strong opinions about him. And not good ones, at that. “Never did I think I’d see someone so famous so close-up!”
“I’m sorry, but I'm afraid it's a little late for any performances,” she says as sweetly as she can. Her voice is threatening to crack and she spitefully fights back the feeling. The bard laughs at her, shaking his head.
“You misunderstand. I just wanted to know what honey you’d recommend.” He looks at her with a smile and Barbara, for the first time, notes just how inhumanly bright his eyes shine. She does her best not to stare. “I suffer from sore throats after performances sometimes, you see. I’m sure you’d understand!”
“I do,” she says as the tension drains from her shoulders. “This one has lavender in it. I think it makes the tea taste better.” He gets a strange glint in his eye, but he nods and picks up one of the jars she’s pointing at.
The bard keeps an eye on her as they pay, walking out of the store side-by-side. Barbara searches her mind for anything to say, but comes up short. Drat.
“I’m… I’m sorry, I’m afraid I’ve forgotten your name.” She never learned it, actually, but this is the more polite option versus saying she's avoided asking for all this time.
The bard grins and lifts his hat, bending forward in a dramatic bow. It’s a little like the stage performers in Fontaine that she’s seen pictures of, and it makes her giggle despite herself. “Allow me to reintroduce myself, then! I am Venti the bard!”
“A pleasure,” she curtsies. “My name is Barbara.”
“Oh, I know.” Venti says. Barbara tries not to cringe, and maybe Venti notices because he rushes to add, “I’ve only heard good things, of course!”
“I would hope so.” She says tiredly. Tomorrow will be another day of the same, and then the day after that will be exactly the same too. She’ll get a brief reprieve on Saturday, and then on Sunday she has a performance because her fans can’t stand to be without one of her concerts for longer than they already have. Venti just hums.
“You work hard, don’t you?” He comments warmly. Barbara shrugs and he laughs. “You do. That’s one of the good things I’ve heard about you, you know! The star of the Church of Favonius, always there to lend a helping hand to everyone. It makes you nearly sound superhuman to me.”
“I’m just a normal human,” she mumbles. Venti nods understandingly.
“But that doesn’t change the fact you go above and beyond what a normal human would do. A very high standard to hold yourself to, in my opinion.”
“It’s nothing,” Barbara tries to deflect. Her eyes are so heavy. When did they make it all the way down the street? How long had they been walking? “Lord Barbatos would do the same as I.”
To this, Venti sighs. Barbara lacks the energy to look over at him, but she can see some strands of her hair waving from the force of the action, like a small breeze is blowing over her shoulder. “You are a devoted deaconess. I just wonder how much religion is worth on the shoulders of the young.”
“I’m not that young.” She protests. She feels those bright eyes turn to look at her.
“In the eyes of the wind, everyone is.”
A gust of wind blows straight down her neck. Barbara shivers. The wind in this city is terrible at times, but she will never complain. Mondstadt is the city of the wind and the city of freedom, and she will never be anything less than proud that she is involved with keeping the city's residents happy. Her back will stay straight, her expression will stay happy, and Mondstadt will never see how the wind nearly takes her breath away even now.
“...I never thought you'd listen to anything the Sisters may say,” she dares say to Venti. He smiles and shakes his head.
“Oh, I really don't! I think it’s just a fact, you know? We're all so young. Some more than others.”
"I'm not that young," Barbara repeats. "We may all be young in the eyes of the wind, but the responsibility we hold doesn't let us use that as an excuse. I'm just proud I can do as much as I can now." This time she does look over to him as he falls strangely silent. Venti is looking at her, eyes aglow as twilight blankets the city, looking… unreadable, but not upset. She wants to ask him about it. She opens her mouth to say something more.
He flourishes his arm, and Barbara realizes they’ve walked all the way to her front door. She blinks in disbelief, taking her eyes off of Venti for a second, and by the time she looks back his smile is back on his face.
“I do believe this is your stop, Deaconess.” He says softly. She stutters out a “thank you,” fumbling in her pockets for her keys. “Make sure to rest tonight! I’ve kept you up for longer than I should’ve, I think.”
“No, really, it’s fine,” Barbara says as a reflex. Venti gives her a skeptical look and she swallows heavily. “It really is, I promise.”
Venti shakes his head knowingly. “Sleep well, Barbara. Thank you for the company and the help.” He doffs his hat for another bow and turns to leave. Barbara watches him go, watches him stop at the end of the row of houses and look back at her, and watches him smile gently. “I enjoyed our conversation.”
“I did too,” she smiles back, and is (shamefully) surprised to find that she means it. Venti smiles wider, waving goodbye as he turns the corner.
Barbara sleeps better than she has in months that night.