Venti’s poem in the 4th Act of the Windblume Festival
(purely because i want to have it written somewhere i can keep for a long time.)
“Who was it that stroked your bloodied, determined visage
By stream flowing small
By boulder standing large
Who was it that embraced your weary yet noble soul
In dreams deep
In skies soaring
Dear friend,
I am leading you by the hand
Into the night where lanterns shine bright
To tell you a tale of freedom and dreams
The tale of where this festival begins”