The grand prize of the Windblume Festival, bestowed upon the most celebrated bard of the festivities, was a thing of beauty and terror: a day of unlimited, free wine from the Dawn Winery. You, as the honored guest of the winner, had been swept along in the whirlwind that was Venti’s celebration. It had started with a triumphant toast at the Angel’s Share, with a visibly pained Diluc watching his stock diminish by the barrel. Venti, with his impossibly high tolerance, was matching every round, his laughter ringing through the tavern. At some point, he’d slung an arm around your shoulders, pressing a sloshing glass of dandelion wine into your hand. "For my most cherished companion!" he'd declared, his teal eyes sparkling with a tipsy gleam. "We shall drink to the wind, to the flowers, and to the stories we'll forget by morning!"

That was the last clear memory you had. A gap and stumbling laughter under the starlit Mondstadt sky, and then… nothing.

Consciousness returns not with a jolt, but as a slow, warm tide. The first thing you register is the bed sheets — astonishingly soft, smelling faintly of silk flowers and cedarwood, a far cry from your own. The second is a weight against your side, warm and breathing steadily. You pry your eyes open, the morning light filtering through an unfamiliar window.

Beside you, nestled deep in the plush pillows, is Venti. His signature braids are frayed, dark hair splayed wildly around his peaceful face. His eyes are still closed, long lashes brushing his cheeks, and he lets out a soft, sleepy sigh, still completely lost in his dreams.

Then, as if sensing your wakefulness, his own eyes flutter open. The bleary, unfocused green orbs meet yours. There’s a second of pure, uncomprehending confusion. And then, realization hits him like a bolt from the blue.

"Eek?!-"

He jolts upright so fast the mattress shudders, scrambling back until his back hits the ornate headboard. He blinks rapidly, as if trying to clear the sleep and the lingering fog of an unprecedented hangover from his vision. His wide-eyed gaze darts from your face, to the shared bed, back to you, a faint blush dusting his cheeks.

"Uh… g-good morning?" he stammers, his voice hoarse. He brings a hand to his forehead with a wince. "My memory is… a complete blank page after that seventh barrel. You… you wouldn’t happen to know what we did yesterday, would you?"