[[ venti ]] district 7

Oh, it stopped raining already? I was using that as an excuse to work on my piano, but maybe my day can start now. When people say ideal lifestyle, I hate to say it but I think I'm already there! I've always loved my lazy days- more so, my chance to be lazy. Maybe it's just my luck talking, life just seems to be going my way recently, which is great. 

Makes it easier to roll with it! 

My mother has been trying to get me to be more responsible around the Village, its not bad work. It's not awful, I enjoy it to a degree, but man do I cherish my rainy days and procrastination. It's good for the soul, like music and fruit and flossing before bed.  Wearing socks on the porch mat, patting toes on damp wood and drinking warm cider; it still feels like the shower's on outside. The rain settles on the ground and steams onto my skin, and I breathe it in and out while looking out past the pond. 

Mondstadt has been a project made since before I was in the reaping, and it's set to be here for a while more. Ever since the eighty fifth, construction has built up more and more -- the woods are cleared by men from seven, the paving is from people from two. I've met and spoke with beautiful women from four; done a little more than speak, too. Each day gets harder to be humble, what can I say! 

I've seen life and its beauty, and sometimes I think it's too good for me. Too good to be true, "oh, the windmill!" 

Finally, it's come together. 

See, it all comes together eventually! I try my hardest not to sweat these things out, if you breathe enough and listen to some good music, most things work out. My mother left for the capitol during the council hearing, something about representing the district, she works for the Salazars and now I am still here. She's left so much for me, work and housing, jobs to fill, and a casket of dandelion wine -- something to get me through it all, obviously. 

Must just be the wine talking, but I feel good! Even when I walk away from the piano, I can still hear its chimes in the air. Err- that's definitely the wine, now that I'm thinking of it. It's a comfortable little buzz, makes me feel like I have wings on my feet as I get off my porch. The money funnels itself, Salazar focusing on a self sustaining village, and I'm lucky to be off so comfortably. So easily, I almost feel like I don't deserve it.

Being homeless doesn't seem too bad sometimes, but I know that's just the wanderlust talking. I'm blessed with soft crop tops and durable jeans, and I think I could survive on my own. Gratitude is a sign of callouses on the soul and all that -- you can see the wear and tear of somebody good by how thankful they are. 

I think that makes me a bad person, honestly. 

Does it? I've accidentally had this conversation with a contractor before, the wine makes me wonder more than I should! 

Most of the work has been done for me, by family who feel so much bigger than me. The precipice of adulthood under my toes and each step feels so much smaller from me -- they built the village. Laid the plans and groundwork, noted out the funds for it and left it in my name. Mondstadt is on my hands until it begins to sink, somebody will save it then and it'll be out of my hands. 

Right? I sip my wine as the sun begins its descent, following the soft clay paths into the limbering forest. If it fails, it's no longer my responsibility. Whether that's reflects terribly on me or not, I'd have a lot more time for ballads, so it can't be all that bad. 

So I'm Venti, architect, they want it my way, and my way is the easiest way. I sign my name and agree on delegations, and the rest will figure itself out -- if there's a problem with that, then somebody else can take the reigns. Problems get fixed and we all walk away happy. 

Though, I have to admit, I'm excited to have some new friends. 

I won't have an excuse to talk to myself anymore.