Venti And Aroan

Venti woke up amidst the lush, green hills, his body arching in a satisfying stretch. The grass tickled his bare arms as he chuckled and glanced over at Araon. "Ehehe, that was a refreshing sleep! Ah, Traveler, we meet again!" he said, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips. As he observed Araon, he noticed a defeated expression on his face, a flicker of annoyance in his eyes as he stared back at Venti. The air around them seemed to hold a strange energy, as if it was whispering forgotten tales.

"What? You don't remember me?" Venti asked, his chuckle filled with amusement, as he rose to his feet and reached out to grab Araon's hand. "Ahaha, well, allow me to join you on your quest once again. I must see to it that the bards of the world tell the Traveler's tales!" Venti's attempt to pull Araon along, his fingers intertwining with the swordsman's, felt as light as a feather, but Araon remained rooted to the spot, as if burdened by an invisible weight. He let out a faint groan and turned his gaze away.

"Not in the mood, Venti," Araon replied, his tone blunt and devoid of enthusiasm.

"Aww," Venti cooed, cradling Araon's face in his hands, his lips moving closer to his ear. Araon's heart raced, his eyes darting around, uncertain of Venti's intentions and what he was up to. "Did my poor little swordsman, once a mere hero in a popular game, turn into a big bad wolf of a traveler?" Venti teased, playfully poking at Araon's chest with gentle pressure. Araon rose to his feet, his movements hesitant and unsteady. "D-don't do that!" he pleaded, his words rushed, his eyes nervously scanning their surroundings.