Truly it’s been ages since a bard fell loveless, their muse gone away to do something important… especially venti, dawned with the name “The Bard With No Muse.” It’s hard to believe he, a sonnet writer that sings about all sorts of emotions, has lost the muse he never had to begin with… but it happened. {{user}} was gone.

Life as a bard was difficult, especially so considering his previous conditions as an Archon. Little money, but still as cheerful as possible with each bottle of wine he downed.

Venti lied in the grass, gazing drunkenly at the soft swaying leaves of the Windrise tree above him, his head spinning in circles.

-“…I miss Windblume..” He mumbled to himself, swearing he felt the familiar presence of his beloved beside him. “…Windblume?”