Archive of Our Own ^beta

another cloudless morning hung over mondstadt, it has been a while since the threat of the so-called storm terror had passed and the traveller, now an honorary knight— a title as given by the acting grand master herself, left mondstadt with bountiful blessings from the residents, to travel to the famous liyue harbour to find more clues about her supposed missing twin, with promises to return one day if the city ever needed their aid once more.

life went about, as usual, the townsfolk in this sleepy town really had nothing much else going on. mornings were when the married ladies would gather at the market, eager and determined to get the best goods for cheap. the poor vendors always giving in no matter how much they tried to talk sense to their customers, after all the middle-aged ladies of mondstadt are quite the stubborn bunch. it was quite a scene to behold: the streets barely being able to contain the hordes of people that were brushing shoulders against each other to get to where they needed to be, vendors calling out to passersby, loud sounds of bargaining and oh— how could i forget. the delectable smells that would waft through the markets into the homes of the people, delicacies that were the pride of the citizens mondstadt. if you were a visitor to the city, the food was definitely one of the main highlights to look forward to.

a small figure weaved her way through the scene, stepping lightly on her toes she picked out the finest apples she could find to add into her already overflowing basket. should one take a peak inside, it was easy to guess that she would be making some sort of apple pastry, especially with that amount of flour. it wasn't something that warranted a surprise of any sort. after all apples are one of mondstadt's local specialities, and it was a given that many dishes from this part of teyvat were, well, apple- flavoured . but enough of my blabbering, it seems that our little friend is done with her purchase. walking towards a quieter part of town, one wonders where the young lass is headed— still, she strode onwards as the crowds around her dwindled. and right there, just before the last building at the end of that street, she turns into a narrow alley. the heels of her boots clicking against the stone path, she made it down some shallow steps and was soon standing before a lovely old oak door.

there it stood in all of its glory under the sunlight that flitted in, it looked like a page taken out of a children's fairytale, with ivy vines and small white blooms decorating the frame of the door with the rich brown of the wood complementing the dark grey bricks of the wall. the young woman fumbled with the keys at her hip for an embarrassingly long while, producing a key from the bunch only to realize that it wouldn't fit the lock on the door. she did eventually find the one that unlocked the door, luckily enough, but her anxiety-ridden little pea brain had decided that that was a humiliation that would last for a lifetime, even if no one was around to see it happen.

with arms full of ingredients for the day's agenda, the girl walks through the entrance and under the canopy of leaves, kicking the door shut behind her as she headed towards the counter. it has been a while since she made a cake, the last time she did was probably years ago, together with her grandmother in her little kitchen. in fact, what she was making today was a recipe from the old lady herself, an apple crumble cake that was said to have been passed down for many generations in the family. a family speciality that was sure to give you a bittersweet taste of nostalgia and homesickness.

home. she did not have any particular attachment to that place, but being ripped away from a place where you still had some semblance of security and that was still familiar to you— it felt so utterly disorienting. the air felt heavier, the taste of the water here was just a tad bit too sweet, the ground that she walked on felt too hard. being here, made her remember in her every waking moment that she did not belong in this place. she could try to fit in, anyone would, but how long could she pretend? how long until someone notices the little anomalies in her gait, a smile that was a little too strained for someone who was meant to be another innocent citizen on teyvat? and when they do find out, what will they do other than persecute her on a stake?

unknowingly, tears had started to form at the corners of her eyes. it prickled. she tried to wipe them away with the sleeves of her blouse but they just kept coming. she was terrified, and her whirlwind of intrusive thoughts were not much help either. letting her tears flow freely now, she lets herself despair for a while longer, reality was harsh in so many ways. she could not go back to her previous home anymore, somehow she would have to make a new one in this new place. she had to survive above everything else, making something good out of this bad situation. wasn't that what she always did best? as grandmother would always say?

as the memories of her grandmother came rolling in waves, her hands found the chopping block and a knife. it was almost like muscle memory with how many times she's made this cake in the past— first you peel the apple, then cut it into quarters to take out the seeds and the apple's hard core. then, cut it up into equal cubes and put them in a pot, add a cup of sugar and a quarter stick of cinnamon into the pot of apples. heat it up over a stove for about ten or fifteen minutes, stir the contents in the pot occasionally: we don't want our apples to burn now do we?

when the liquid from the sugar and apple juice thickens into a sauce, remove the cinnamon stick before adding in lemon juice and a small bit of rum. stir the mixture for another five minutes as the wonderful aroma gradually fills the space. when the consistency is thick enough, take the pot out of the stove and put the contents into a bowl to cool, leave it aside and prepare the other parts now that the filling has been made.

now, we move on to the crumbles that would be added atop the cake. firstly, sift the cake flour and almond powder mixed together, making sure that they are of equal amounts before mixing them. when the two ingredients are sifted thoroughly, pour in the same amount of sweetflower sugar as the flour and almond powder then add a pinch of salt for flavour . mix the ingredients once more, just doing it lightly would do as well. take about twenty grams of unsalted butter, chop it up into sizable small cubes before tossing it in the mix. coat the butter in the dry ingredients, chop it up even further if you will. finally, add the crushed pecans into the mix, then, using your clean hands mix the butter, nuts and dry ingredients together until the form vaguely resembles crushed cookies or in other words, mix it till they lump together.

at this stage, i'm sure you all are thinking, wow this narrator absolutely sucks ass at reading recipes. and you know what? that is a very valid opinion. that is also why i am here as your narrator instead of being the one down there doing all the cooking and giving free therapy sessions. not that i would mind doing the latter— i was just unfortunately not that blessed when it comes to the matters of the kitchen.

moving along now! we have to make haste, our dear protagonist has already gone off to make the cake batter without us noticing! here she is, whipping two parts cream cheese and one part unsalted butter into a nice and smooth texture. after adding a cup of sugar and a half tablespoon of salt, she continues to whip the concoction until it looks slightly bouncier than before. folding it in with a spatula, she adds in two beaten eggs and another half tablespoon of vanilla extract, continuing to whip them in a bowl until the consistency becomes less thick. when she thinks it's been whipped enough, she adds in the sifted mixture of cake flour, almond powder and baking powder. don't mix it up with the crumbles she was making earlier though, she sifted this while i was talking to you all.

she adds part of the mix of powders into the whipped butter and cheese, and i swear by celestia's name i have no idea what she is doing now. what is this, slicing the dough? adding a cup of milk? is that dough already? i cannot cook and it shows. but hey, it looks spongy from that baking powder, i'm sure that it's considered dough now, right? look, she's now putting it into the baking pan, or is that a pot? really i think it's too deep to be a— alright! alright! i will continue with my narrating, cut me some slack, would you? it's my first day at this job too you know?

what is she doing now? ah yes, place the baking paper in the baking pot, so that well the cake is easier to take out when it's all nicely baked. even a complete noob like me knows this too alright? oh my, i am excited to see how the cake would turn out: see, she's adding the cake dough to the bottom and is trying to make the surface even. which, in my opinion, is quite unnecessary. i mean, she's going to add in the apple fillings then cover it up with the remaining dough and pecan crumbles after this plus frankly if the food is going to end up in my stomach, how it's going to look doesn't matter much does it? you don't agree? well, to each their own i suppose.

so then! there we have it! an apple crumble recipe dear to our protagonist's heart. a little secret you would never have known about if not for my intervention.

the girl gingerly balances the baking pot in her hands, tenderly placing it on the oven tray, all the while manoeuvring past the hot iron grills inside. as she shuts the oven door, she pulls a nearby stool towards her and settles down to drink the little concoction she made from the remnants of the apple filling. it was simple, really, the apple sauce mixed in with a cup of lemon juice and water— a sweet drink with the zest of sour lemons and a little kick of the cinnamon's taste. she was more of a coffee-in-the-morning person but she also lived by a life motto of "waste not want not" so some fruit juice would have to make do for this morning.

a tinkle from the bell rings through the room, and in walks our first customer— ah, him?

oh forgive me for my careless tongue for it is the great anemo archon barbatos who has now graced us with his presence. of course he'd rather us call him venti, it's what he goes as now. sorry that i am a little prickly at the moment, it's just i might have a bit of history with a few certain citizens of teyvat. they can't see me of course, i've made sure of it. don't go around attracting attention to yourself too for celestia's sake! all of my hard work would go down the drain if you do something weird!

but why is he here? the very first customer as well, to boot. you would think that it is the more vigilant and observant ones like diluc or even kaeya that would be the first ones to walk in and investigate. is it perhaps because of something in the shop? the cake! of course it would be the cake! venti that drunk, he loves apples like no other, what— is he some kind of dog trained to pick up only scents that are from apples? it is amusing but i cannot believe i used my already limited mental resources for this insignificant matter.

"oh archons!" the green-clad bard exclaimed, in excitement? perhaps. though it is my personal opinion that there is an underlying arrogance to crying out his own status— oh but he could be speaking like a civilian after living among his people for so long, or so you say? i hear you but i choose to ignore your reasoning, after all, what do you even know about this world?

our friend watched him from behind the counter, her eyes shining with curiosity and a little hope— might he be her first customer? even if he wasn't she hoped he would stay for a little while, after all, it was terribly lonesome in this empty place.

the bard hummed, a foreign tune that was nonetheless pleasant to the ears. spinning around to face the girl, he smiled. eyes turning up into lovely crescents clasping his hands and with an airy laugh, he asked the girl pray, tell him what was being made in that little old oven. she, of course, answered his queries politely then adding a question of her own at the end. it was a curious matter to her, how someone could find her little shop, so isolated from the rest of the city in its own little world.

"why," he quipped, "the smell from that oven of yours is absolutely divine! mmmh i do hope this cake would taste as scrumptious as my nose tells me."

the girl blushed at the praise, her cheeks were dusted a light pink as a soft chuckle left her lips. ugh.

"you speak too highly of my skills, mister bard-sir." she said softly, as she took out the cake from the oven, "even then, i would be happy to let you have a taste of this apple crumble cake if you—"

she trailed off, her sights landed on the lyre that hung on the bard's hip. a small smile gracing her gentle face, she continued, "if you would so kindly let me hear one of your songs, perhaps i might be generous and let you have the cake on the house."

venti's eyes lit up, his grin wide and joyous. picking up his lyre, he plucked on the strings as the sweet melody resonated through the small space.

"of course! who am i to deny the fair lady of her song? if that is all you ask for, then i, venti, the greatest bard in all of mondstadt shall sing to you of a grandiose tale, a song so marvelous you would never want to hear the tales that other bards would sing ever again!"

(ugh, again with this haughty, pompous tone— oi. stop hitting me you little-)

"you speak highly of yourself mister bard-sir," she laughed her shoulders shaking as her hands covered her giggling mouth, "i do hope that your songs are as lovely as you claim, i would be sorely disappointed if you were lying."

(you see? even our friend here agrees with us!)

"why, my dear!" the bard exclaimed, a hand over his chest where his heat lay, feigning a hurt expression he woefully sobbed, "why would an honest bard like myself, tell fib of the tales i sing? surely you jest, for your words seem gag? what shall i do to have a taste of this dish? perhaps a way to your heart should do the trick?"

it was impressive, truly, how he always managed to string words together the way he did. if i were in a physical body right now, i might just puke over him out of spite. you wonder why i am so cruel with my words when it comes to him eh? haven't you been listening, don't go digging your noses in places where it doesn't belong, who knows when someone unforgiving could claw your eyes out? just because you are friendly with someone doesn't mean i have to as well, you just can't force people to get along you know. but on the other hand, just because you can't get along with someone, it also doesn't mean you should wish ill will onto them. i would never want anyone to suffer, much less because i had wished it so. oh? it seems you have been distracted, that's fine, let's see what the two are up to now then shall we?