diluc / 7 / fin

[tick 12a / calla]

D    I    L    U    C     R    A    G    N    V    I    N    D    R

nineteen. daddy issues. shut up u emo fuck. capri-sun enthusiast. bartender. pk school dropout. workaholic.
a spy?? batman but without the bat. vineyard heir. who tf is kaeya lol. i'm not bitter he said bitterly.

[tick 12a / calla]

D  I  L  U  C

He creeps back through the side door close to midnight. The villa is quiet, the staff all asleep, and Diluc winces at the sound of his boots against the floorboard slats. His knuckles ache and they'll be bruised in the morning, the mattress upstairs is calling his name, but he steps into the west wing instead and lets the heavy door of the study swing shut behind him.

The air is always heaviest in there, and tonight is no different.

Diluc crosses the threshold and sinks into the chair at his father's old desk, pressing his palms against his eyes hard enough to see stars. Dawn chirps at him from the tabletop and nips at his fingertips before flying over to her perch to preen. The sound of her feathers shuffling against each other helps to fill the space, but the room still feels cavernous.

The whole manor feels too big and too empty and it makes Diluc feel hollow more often than not. The staff shuffle by during their morning duties, some of them will greet him, but most are too busy. Half of the rooms stay locked and the other half are rarely used anymore, the familiarity of them too much, echos of dinner parties and late night meetings stuck permanently to the walls.

The vineyard seems to be the only thing with constant upkeep, but wandering through the rows doesn't feel the way it used to. It isn't like being ten and darting between the greenery with Kaeya, when the grapes were always the sweetest in the summer and they'd gorge themselves while giggling, tumbling over each other to avoid the yardkeeper. Life isn't as simple as sneaking out to spar with Jean or pressing his ear against the door, shushing the other two to listen to his father's business when he should've been in bed.

Diluc's accepted that - because Kaeya and Jean have their own lives now and so does he.

A knock at the study door makes Dawn squawk. But it's only Elzer that pokes his head in a second later, a silver tray in his arms and an affirming look of pity in his eye. He steps into the room without saying anything, puts the tray down and pats Diluc's hand gently, walking back out and shutting the door silently. Diluc takes the roll of gauze from the tray and wraps his hands slowly, methodically, grimacing at the damage left by a street kid that'd picked the wrong night to case a place so close to Mondstadt. There's a reason why the crime rate around the village is so low, and it's not because of the Peacekeepers.

He scoffs at the thought and lifts a porcelain cup from the tray, sipping at the tea Elzer had made.

He owes... almost everything to that man. After his father's death, Diluc had practically shut himself away. Elzer, the family's head butler, had been the one to step up and keep the business going while Diluc mourned.

Because the heir hadn't been able to do anything without reliving the heat of the explosion and the gurgle of his father's breath as it rattled through his failing lungs. He couldn't breathe without feeling the sudden give of the man's chest when the knife'd gone through. Diluc couldn't close his eyes without seeing the way his father's eyes had begged to be put out of his misery.

Even though that’s not what the headlines had said.

The official story was that Crepus Ragnvindr - beloved businessman, loving father, proud patron - had gotten caught in a rebel fuelled explosion and died from his injuries before either of his sons could get to him. The Keepers covered up what really happened, called it an ambush and sent their condolences to the casualties families. Diluc dropped out of the academy and held his grief and rage close, shuttered the manor's windows and closed the gates. The winery was suddenly under new ownership but its heir was an overnight ghost story.

Emergence was a long and painful process.

But there were some things that hurt too much. Some things were covered with white sheets and tucked away because getting rid of them felt like a finality. The family portrait still stares down at him, even now, Crepus and Diluc and Kaeya all painted together - Master Ragnvindr and his two sons, one of his own blood and the other of a traitor's. The canvas of Kaeya's face still has a rip in it from that night.

Diluc sets his tea down with a clatter and reaches for the papers strewn about the desk. The month's just started and he already feels like he's behind. There's a rebel spy expecting information by midnight and there's a merchant coming by in the morning with a new sales agreement to sign. Angel's Share opens at noon and since it's a weekday he'll have to cut Venti off at least an hour before close. Kid'll never leave otherwise.

But it's fine, it really is. Everything will get done because everything has to get done. He'll stay busy because it's better than the alternative. Then, when the work is done he'll get to the other work, the stuff that's a little more dangerous, and that'll be fine too. He's young, but he's powerful, strong but angry, bitter but aloof. He's isn't falling apart, not from lack of trying but from a sudden and sheer determination.

There's too much riding on this, and on him, for it to crumble now. So it won't.

[tick 12a / calla]

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[✨ zozo.]

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