Chapter Text
There’s no reason for Diluc to get involved. He’s busy enough as it is, and he’s really not trying to make a silly title like Darknight Hero his day job, but even still… Why can’t he just let it go?
Usually news in Mondstadt is too personal to be of any interest: runaway cat, occasional vandalism, you know, things that are easily rectified. But this week, the front page of Monds Press covers a group of missing adventures. They set off on an expedition to Dragonspine 5 days ago, and haven’t been seen since, no thanks to the Knights of Favonius. Diluc waited, giving the Knights enough time to form and send a rescue team. But Dragonspine is not easily traversed, and no progress has been made in getting the group out. He curses under his breath, wondering why Iris was so insistent on setting up a guild camp by the cursed mountain to begin with, if this is just what was going to happen.
Dragonspine isn’t like any other place Diluc can think of, least of all in Mondstadt. The mountain is surrounded by an unyielding snowstorm: the snow’s always falling and never melts, the temperature so cold you’ll freeze within minutes if you’re not careful, day in and day out. It’s not impossible to traverse, but it’s incredibly difficult without a vision or some kind of combat experience. Because of the seclusion, hilichurls and the abyss order occupy the broken paths, and they’ll shoot at anything that breathes in their direction.
Diluc sighs, massaging his temple. He should’ve gone straight away. He didn’t want to believe he was needed, didn’t want to interrupt work to commit to this hero act yet again. How many times has it been now… The incompetence of the Knights (as a unit, a governing body) never fails to disappoint him. It’s only been what, almost two months since his return to Mondstadt? It worries him to think about what could’ve occurred in his absence.
It’s a shift from the way he felt at first upon returning, realizing that the order of Knights had changed, that the traitors he expected to have to confront had already been exposed. The world went and moved on without him. When he walked through the square, faced with the liveliness of the market, that was the only truth clear to him. It was time for him to move on as well, to tear himself from the circle that is grief at all costs.
Diluc can’t stop the hurt. But he can start focusing on the things that really matter, take up the work that’s been waiting for him to return. There is no place for him in the Knights order anymore. He knows Jean thinks differently, has seen glimpses of her ambition as acting grandmaster, but it’s idealistic. Diluc will never be a shining hero. He’s already too far gone, but a silent protector… Perhaps this is the way to do it.
It’s only natural that Jean is having trouble with dispatch, the more Diluc thinks about it. It seems as though Varka had taken the whole calvary unit with him when he left. As if to make a point that the order moved with him, and nobody else. But he isn’t the heart of this nation, nor will he ever be, faceless on top of a system that doesn’t care about its people. It doesn’t matter who’s up on stage, the results were scripted to begin with. Truth endlessly forsaken for the convenience of a pretty picture.
Diluc’s chair squeaks against the wood flooring when he gets up abruptly, rushing to his room before he can dwell on the matter any longer. He should leave now. If he thinks too long about the past, he won't be able to act when it matters. The inventory catalog can be updated tomorrow without any real consequence, and his staff are well capable of working without him. Diluc is grateful to have them. There are many things, he evaluates, that cannot be left in the hands of strangers.
Swinging the door open, he looks through his clothes for something more appropriate— or as close to suitable as he can get for sub-zero temperature. He layers the best he can, and finishes by putting his usual jacket under a hood that truthfully, does nothing to conceal his rowdy hair. A ponytail can only do so much, he supposes, as he looks himself over in the mirror. The strands do more than stick out, and he’s sure it’ll get him recognized by the adventurers when he finds them.
Walking back to his nightstand, he grabs another hair tie before letting his hair back down, slowly combing it out with his fingers. It’s been a while since he’s styled it any other way. He thinks of Jean again briefly, how she often braids her hair or puts it up, during ceremonies or simply whenever she has the energy. Something like that would serve his purpose. Diluc tests a few knots out, ultimately deciding that what looks good on Jean doesn’t look quite the same on him. His hair is much more curly, so it’s difficult to get it to look as neat. In the end, he manages a mostly neat braid, and twists it into a tight bun.
He lifts the hood over his head when he finishes, turning while he judges his appearance with a frown. It’s a bit nice, the feeling of hair off his neck, but he knows he could never really keep a look this short full-time. Satisfied, Diluc exhales softly.
There’s no more time to waste. He’ll go to the pantry, bring enough ready-to-eat provisions and first aid kits for a group. He’ll have to leave a note announcing his absence.
Let them be alive, he thinks, as he shuffles through shelves full of disinfectants and salves. If nothing else.
It’s hard to see through the blizzard, but he’s sure there’s someone standing up there, past the rocky terrain. There’s a cliff up that bend. It’s too dangerous for a regular person to be…
Diluc’s running up the broken steps before he knows it. Though he’s never been afraid to traverse Dragonspine, he’s only just recently taken an interest in exploring its paths. When he first came back, Dragonspine seemed to be the only thing that stayed as he remembered it. It’s been comforting, in it’s own odd little way, to acquaint himself with the unyielding environment. With home, and all its changes.
“Hey! Are you alright?” It’s a shaky exclamation more than a question, his adrenaline making him restless.
Sure enough, there’s someone standing by the cliff’s edge, but it’s not one of the lost adventurers. Not anyone he’s seen before actually, and Diluc finds himself freezing as he reaches the top of the steps, held still by a pointed arrow.
At first he thinks he’s encountered a hunter. If you can find a boar from this area in particular you can sell it for a high price, or keep it for yourself to pair with red wine. Brunello and Bordeaux specifically are bolder drinks that will best bring out the flavor of the meat.
But the man aims at him with intention. He does not move, nor does he speak, as he holds his arrow back. Diluc can’t bring himself to look away from such an icy stare. He knows then, with certainty, that if he reaches for his claymore he’ll be shot at without hesitation.
A few things are running through Diluc’s mind at this point. The man has unruly, orange hair that sticks out so intensely against the snowscape he wonders how one could be so striking. He carries a hydro vision, but his arrow is unaffected by any abilities he might have. He’s probably wondering if he should shoot or not. His clothing seems like Snezhnayan design… but it’s not the general Fatui uniform either. He’s wearing a red mask matching in style, currently shifted to the side of his head, and Diluc can’t put his finger on any of the intricacies. And though the stranger stands with the confidence of someone experienced, his technique is rudimentary for an archer.
It’s curious, the juxtaposition of a novice stance made by someone clearly aiming to kill. He has to be a Fatui soldier. Uniform or not, there’s no other explanation for this level of hostility, the sharp edge to his fundamental movement.
“I know you,” The soldier announces. “Don’t I know you?” The question takes Diluc away from his deductions and into unfamiliar ground, everything about this interaction setting him off-kilter. He’s certain he’s never met this man in his life.
“You’re mistaken.”
“I don’t think I am. Have we fought before, is that it?”
“I can assure you, we’ve never met.” He takes a step back, less than a second away from making a run for it, and the soldier's arrow flies. Diluc instinctively reaches for his claymore and curses, feels the burst of wind that forms as an arrow’s propelled past his ears. Missed shot?
“Wait.”
No, it was on purpose. Diluc scowls, wanting to run and pick a fight with this guy all at once. But he reminds himself of his intentions, the adventurers left stranded in the storm, and knows he can’t afford to waste time like this.
“It’s on the tip of my tongue… Hey, let’s fight. I’m sure I’ll remember if we do.”
“Are you even listening to me?” Diluc exclaims, exasperated. “I’m not fighting you.”
The soldier finally disengages his bow, but Diluc quickly realizes it’s the opposite of surrender. “I’ll make you, then.”
Diluc curses under his breath. But his claymore feels right in his hands, and he focuses on that weight as the stranger lunges at him. Metal screeches as the upper limb of the bow is forced down on Diluc’s claymore. He’s surprised by the force of the strike, and has to dig his boots into gravel to keep his footing steady. “You fight dirty.”
The soldier just laughs. “I warned you, didn’t I?”
Diluc arms shake slightly against the pressure. Something isn’t right, he thinks. This guy is too strong. “I thought you were an archer?”
The guy grins, pushes against the claymore even further. It’s too close for comfort, and Diluc can feel the cold exhale slip through his lips when he refutes, “What, archers can’t be strong? That’s a bit rude.”
“I only meant to say,” Diluc forces, “that an archer would have more respect for their bow than to manhandle it.”
“Really?” He pulls back quickly only to strike again, punctuating the question. “I can’t say either way. But you’re right, I’m not exactly an archer.”
Diluc feels his hood slip off a bit from the pressure, revealing the bangs he pushed back and hid, feeling cold air press on his forehead.
Suddenly, the soldier’s eyes alight with recognition, a frenzied grin taking over his face when he jumps back from the stalemate. Diluc lowers his blade just a little, trying to calm his labored breathing.
“Oh, I remember now!” The soldier exclaims, grin widening. “The маленькая жар-птица that disrupted our camps last year.” Diluc stiffens at the foreign words, feeling dizzy all of a sudden, as he makes sense of the statement. Little firebird. That’s the nickname the Tsaritsa had given him in Snezhnaya, when he was no more than the clothes on his back. The soldier starts laughing with delight, and Diluc’s thoughts speed ahead of him. He can’t place the uniform— it’s not a uniform. The soldier’s esteemed enough to not need one. “It’s you, isn’t it? It totally is. Oh, this is just priceless. The жар-птица has a pyro vision of all things!”
“You’re a Harbinger.” The title feels wrong off Diluc’s tongue, can’t help the disgust that shows on his face when he says it.
“So what?” There’s a glint in his eye that Diluc finds unsettling, remnants of the detached gaze that claimed his expression when he first aimed. His bow is by his side now, forgotten in light of new information, while his free hand gestures wildly. “You’re welcome to try what you failed to do the first time.”
If Diluc was the same as he was back then, he would’ve easily fallen for the taunt. But he’s different now, and he knows he can’t keep running himself in circles, no matter how much his rage tries to eat up his heart. “I’ll have to decline.”
“That’s no fun. What happened to the fire in your eyes, маленькая жар-птица?” He pouts, rocking on both feet, and Diluc distantly notes how young he looks then. They might be the same age, if not a year or two apart.
“Don’t call me that. I’m busy.”
“Alright, alright, how about this: If you can guess my rank, I won’t attack you. If you get it wrong, or don’t answer, I will. You have a minute.”
Years of research on the Fatui and their usage of delusions flit through Diluc’s mind. There’s a few possible options just from the Harbingers he hasn’t directly met, but if this guy is really his age… He should be the youngest, and most recent, Harbinger to date. He tightens his grip on his claymore just in case, as he answers, “Number eleven, Tartaglia.”
“Ah. I guess that was too easy… You’re right, but it’s not Tartaglia, not really. I go by Childe.” His disappointment is obvious, but he recovers quickly. “Are you sure you don’t want to fight? You and me, we’re birds of a feather. Don’t you need to let out some steam?”
Here’s what Diluc knows about the Eleventh Harbinger: His current rank was given in his late teens, making him the youngest of the Harbingers, and the easiest to find information about. But whether any of that information is truthful is another story. Diluc’s heard too many contradictions. That he’s the most lenient of them all, and that the common soldier is lucky to be put under his lead. Or that he’s terribly violent despite his age, a bit of a loose cannon, and as a result should not be threatened or pushed. A few people have even said he can’t fight, preferring to act more as a public figure for the Harbingers. Conclusion? Diluc really doesn’t know anything at all. He didn’t care to investigate Childe much over the years, mostly because of how recent his title was given. There are other Harbingers more closely related to the manufacturing of delusions, to the truth Diluc failed— not failed, not yet, he reminds himself— to find.
He doesn’t know what Childe thinks he knows about him, but Diluc would sooner try to paraglide in this storm than admit they’re anything alike. “I don’t.”
“But don’t you?” Childe asks, curiosity dripping off his words. “I saw you last year. The look in your eyes, the way that you fought. Like you were doing anything and everything you could to just survive.”
Diluc tells himself the reason he doesn’t turn around and leave right then, is because Childe could strike him from behind. Not because of the look in the harbinger’s eye, knowing, as if he had never been more sure of anything in his life. “That was then.”
“It was last year.” Childe sharply clarifies, and Diluc feels like he’s entered a minefield; he’s unsure of how to proceed, what the right words are to keep Childe from drawing his bow. “Not everyone can fight like that. I was captivated… I had to be ordered not to engage you. I don’t think I could’ve resisted otherwise. But now…” Childe shoots Diluc a look of disapproval, pouting again. “Why’re you bottling it up?”
“We are, and I cannot stress this enough, nothing alike.” Diluc pauses, suddenly realizing he doesn’t know what a Fatui Harbinger is doing in the middle of Dragonspine to begin with. It’s common knowledge that Fatui diplomats and soldiers are stationed throughout Mondstadt, mostly in Dragonspine where the Knights presence is little to none, but Harbingers are different. They’re… trusted with more unsavory work, to put it lightly. Doesn’t he have better things to do? Unless, perhaps, he knew Diluc was coming. Why he was coming. “Why are you here?”
Childe squints a bit, clearly not getting the question. “What?”
“I said, why are you here?”
“I’m on vacation.”
Vacation. In Dragonspine. Diluc wasn’t expecting anything truthful, but what kind of answer is that? Nobody goes to Dragonspine for the hell of it. The only people crazy enough to endure such an uncompromising stay are researchers, soldiers, and fools— even they have their reasons. No, there has to be more to why Childe’s here. It’s hard to discern, with so many possibilities already outside of the missing adventurers; the Fatui have every reason to go after Diluc, and vice versa, but it’s an unlikely prospect after so many months of silence. Worst scenarios start to form in his mind, clouding his judgment as he demands, “Stop playing. Tell me where they are.”
Childe laughs, breathy and disbelieving. “No really, what are you talking about?”
Diluc frowns. There’s no way this is a coincidence, right? Nothing good comes from Fatui being around. “A group of Mondstadt adventurers went missing last week. I’m looking for them. And if you so much as even looked in their direction…”
“Oh.” To his credit, Childe drops the smile that seemed to be glued to his face. “You’re looking… alone?”
“It is what it is.” Diluc tenses. “I’m not going to let you get in my way.”
“Okay?” Childe responds nonchalantly. “Wasn’t planning on it. I’m on vacation, first of all, and you were the one that ran into my camp. If anything you’re getting in my way.” He waves around to the makeshift setup, before resting his hand on his hip.
Diluc scoffs. He’s not going to get anywhere like this. “Fine then. Enjoy your vacation.” Diluc’s voice drops with warning, “But don’t forget where you are— this isn’t Snezhnaya. You harm a single citizen of Mondstadt and I’ll have full reign to take your head.” He fastens his claymore to his back, turns to leave.
Childe yells out in a hurry, “You think you’re strong enough to?”
“Can’t you tell?”
“I want to know what you think.”
Diluc looks over his shoulder, eyebrows furrowing. There’s no point in dwelling over his strength or lack of it. He simply does what he has to do. “I have to be.”
Childe smiles. “Let me help you.”
“What?”
Childe’s by Diluc’s side in an instant, speaking with diplomacy, “You have the wrong idea about me. I’ll help you find those adventurers.”
“That’s not necessary, especially… from a Fatui Harbinger.” Diluc’s voice drips venom with the words. He can’t help the slip, each time.
It doesn’t bother Childe in the slightest. “Does that really matter right now? I’m not here on orders. Honest.”
“I don’t need, or want, your help.” Diluc emphasizes, finally walking back down the steps he ran up.
Childe follows him. “That doesn’t matter to me. I’m not that kind of guy, okay? This is a matter of my reputation.”
“Keep talking and I’ll push your reputation off these stairs.”
Childe groans, considers dropping his offer right there. But he’s always been more prideful than compliant. Who is this guy to threaten him and just walk away? Really, Childe thinks, it’s a bit fun. He was planning on leaving Dragonspine soon, but maybe that decision was premature. “Do you really have time to argue with me? I’ve been camping out here. There are only a few places close to the ground where I haven’t surveyed, so I’ll save you more time than you think.”
That gets Diluc to stop and turn towards Childe, scrutinizing him. In Diluc’s hesitance, he notices that Childe’s left eye is slightly lighter than his right, but there are no signs of scarring or anything to allude to the cause. And unlike before, the killer focus that glazed over his eyes when he aimed is gone. If Diluc didn’t know any better, he’d think Childe was genuinely trying to be helpful. “You ask but leave me no choice.”
Childe walks ahead of Diluc so he can’t see him grin. “If I don’t find them in the next hour, I’ll leave you alone.”
Diluc raises his eyebrow, even though Childe can’t see it. That’s quite the confidence. It’s almost concerning, and he feels sick thinking that he might be falling into a trap. But it really is the best option right now. Attempting to force Childe’s presence off his shoulder will prove to be more difficult than it’s worth, and he’s already wasted enough time just talking to the guy. Diluc takes a second to inhale, watch Childe go down the rest of the steps, and exhale. An hour will go by quickly. Just one hour, and he’ll be back on track, right where he’s supposed to be.
“I’m holding you to that.” Diluc follows, skipping every other step as he jogs down.
48 minutes into their search, Childe finds them. He says it’s easy because there’s only one place you can hide in this kind of snow— the caves. When they find the main entrance to Starglow Cavern blocked off by a mixture of snow and ice, Childe concludes an avalanche had blocked their way back out. Happens to the best of us, he summarizes. Diluc can’t imagine that ever being true. Passing on the opportunity to comment, he raises a hand intending to melt the debris but freezes, slowly drawing his arm back instead. This might be a trap. Or, if by any chance, the adventurers are actually in there… Diluc curses. This isn’t like scaring off some abyss mages and running off before anyone can identify him. It’s more serious than that.
Childe turns to him, leaning over inquisitively. “You good?”
“Yes,” Diluc starts and stops, knowing it'd be a weak lie if he continued. “No… If anyone is hurt in there, it’d be wrong to make haste and leave. But I can’t…” He bites down on his lip hard. How did he not see it sooner? He ran out without thinking, again.
“Comrade, just spit it out.”
Diluc makes eye contact only then, scowling. “Not your comrade.”
Childe gets the feeling that he isn’t going to see Diluc smile anytime soon. Sighing, he then relents, “I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s wrong, can I?” And when that gets no response, he taps on his wrist pointedly, “I’m on a time limit here.”
Strangely, Diluc cracks at that. Childe almost thinks he catches the start of a grin, but Diluc only shifts into a more comfortable stance. His arms loosely cross, shoulders less tense, and leans on his right leg. His voice is a little lighter when he quips, “Oh, I know. I was planning to stand here until you left."
“Jerk.” Childe laughs into the insult.
Diluc just shrugs, shaking his head lightly. “They can’t see my face.” He finally admits, “I can’t let them get a solid look at it.”
“Oh,” Childe says. “That’s it?”
Diluc sucks his teeth. “I’m being serious!”
“I know that!” Childe insists. “Just…” He scratches the back of his head briskly, a fit of energy, and pulls his mask off with a groan. “Here.”
Diluc’s irritation melts with understanding, giving way to a new kind of discomfort. “What are you doing?”
“What does it look like I’m doing?” Childe retorts, lip curling up and baring teeth.
Diluc doesn’t answer that, recoiling into himself, brows knitting together as he stares at where Childe’s holding out his mask. Diluc was supposed to do this alone. Wants to say he still can, that it’d be so easy. All he has to do is melt this ice, march through the caves until he finds the adventurers, and then help them cross the snow-fallen pass back to Mond. He knows his way around the mountains, perhaps not as well as Childe but decent, and could lead their way. But he doesn’t move. He’s the one stopping himself, caught up in things that don’t matter and past vows that feel limiting now, constraining in ways he can’t pick apart yet. Putting on a mask as he is now would be a failure, somehow. He has no reason to hide his face. Not anymore.
He had thrown away his own mask months ago. Rescinded everything it represented, coughed up the hatred he had harbored violently, like it were his own blood. He was going to do it— has been doing it— right, facing himself without turning away from hard truths. So why is he hesitating now? He hasn’t been looking out for Mondstadt discreetly, already knows Kaeya figured out his identity quickly enough. It was never his intention to hide from him, or anyone else for that matter, he just doesn’t need attention for acting where the Knights can’t. That isn’t why he does this. It’s more… complicated than that.
Diluc sighs. His cheeks sting from the burst of cold air, and he welcomes the feeling, the firm reminder of where he is. He still has no idea, does he?
What justice means to him. Who he should designate his oaths to if not the archons, not the Knights of Favonius, not the family he thought he had. The very same people he grew up wanting to protect, who hurt him before he could remember to protect himself first. It’s hard to think nothing of each betrayal. Even harder to cast them all aside, to ignore the part of him that bleeds profusely, that still wants to protect the closest thing he has to a home. He doesn’t know what gives any of them the right to be a safeguard. What is the proper way to hold someone? How do you make them stay, keep their flame alight, even as the sky splits and pours?
This is a useless train of thought. Diluc flexes his hand and forces the spiral back down, tries not to let too much show on his face. He’s ruminated long enough.
Burying his pride, Diluc finally takes the mask. It’s smooth to the touch and light in his hand. He still can’t pinpoint the inspiration of its design, much to his annoyance, and scrutinizes the exaggerated grin it makes through the cutouts. It’s a bit menacing, isn’t it? He glances at Childe, the sharp edges of the mask still in the back of his mind, juxtaposing the two images together. He supposes it makes sense. The way Childe looked at the top of that cliff… It was more than menacing. He had looked at Diluc like he was prey, nothing more. Childe carries that cold, impassive intent to kill with ease, a trait Diluc notes as being exclusively militant. That kind of calculated focus is trained, not inherent; there had to be someone coaxing it, forcing it out, sowing the seeds of desensitization and detachment.
But currently, none of that is there. Not even the slightest hint of hostility. Childe’s raising his eyebrow again, unimpressed with Diluc’s silence. His body language is open, arms slack, weight shifted backwards on his right leg so he’s half facing Diluc. It’s almost… patient, even where his annoyance is made clear.
He’s waiting for me to act, Diluc realizes. His throat feels tight as he looks back down at Childe's mask, but manages to say, “I’ll give it back right away.”
“You don’t have to.”
“What?”
Childe rubs the back of his neck and gestures with his left hand, “You’re clearly stressed, so it’s better for you to keep it. It’s not that important for me to wear.”
“I’m not…” Diluc scoffs. “You misunderstand. We’re going in, out, and then never seeing each other again. I only let you follow me because you’re bothersome otherwise.”
“You let me?” Childe repeats. There’s an edge to his voice that whispers warning, but Diluc is done messing around.
“That’s right.” Diluc tightens his grip on the mask and turns away. “Your hour is almost up, after all.”
That little… Childe exhales harshly, but can’t help the smile that reaches his eyes in the end. Diluc’s confidence is the reason Childe’s sticking around in the first place. Let him think what he wants.
Diluc takes off his hood, and Childe thinks back to when he first saw him. All the times after. It was always at a distance, so maybe he really was just seeing what he wanted to see. But those eyes… Childe takes the opportunity to quietly observe as Diluc moves. Childe’s sure he’s not mistaken, but he isn’t sure where to place his expectations. He hadn’t really expected much of anything from Diluc, really, until he raised his claymore. Childe’s gaze drops down to where the hilt of it juts out, right between Diluc’s shoulder blades. It sways a bit as Diluc figures out where the given mask fits on his face. Childe scratches his neck, lips pursing in thought. It’s more strange than he thought to see his mask on someone else, letting them have it, even temporarily. He can’t recall anyone else that ever got the chance.
He’s still staring when Diluc finishes, pulling his hood back up in one smooth motion. He can feel his stare through the mask— his mask— when Diluc asks, “What?”
“What?” Childe repeats, gathering his thoughts, or lack of them. “It looks good. Not as well as it does on me, obviously. I had it custom made, you know? There’s nothing else like it. Totally one of a kind. I thought you were hesitating to take it because you thought it was ugly.” He rambles, barely aware of what he’s saying, “You should keep it. Don’t worry about giving it back.”
“Like I said, this isn’t going to take that long.” Diluc sighs. At the very least that would explain why Diluc can’t pinpoint the origin of the mask design. A part of him feels relieved, knowing it wasn’t his knowledge that fell short. But something doesn’t quite add up. “It’s custom made, but not important to you?”
“Huh?”
Diluc stiffens as he realizes he voiced his thoughts out loud. “Forget it.”
“What, are you interested? You’re curious?” Childe teases, moving to close the distance between them.
Diluc walks away quickly, instead of answering. Childe watches amused as Diluc approaches the blockade again. Though his expression is hidden, his posture is all Childe needs to see to know everything's fine now.
Flames form around Diluc’s hands and Childe pays close attention to the sparks. It’s a sight he’s seen plenty, the drawing of a vision’s power, and it never gets old. Vision users may be rare, but not among themselves— they tend to find each other, whether by intent or happenstance, as if pulled by magnetism. Childe briefly wonders if that’s why Diluc had found him, in a spot he was sure would grant him solitude. He’s been to Dragonspine more times than he can remember now, but this is the first time he’s encountered a local. The Fatui stationed here don’t count, not really, and if Childe had anything to say about it he’d force them all out every once in a while. The scenery is better without them.
He thinks of Snezhnaya then, smiles softly. He can feel the heat of the fire from where he stands, and if he closes his eyes, he can faintly picture his mother’s living room. The crackling of their hearth, where his family would lie about until the smell of dinner was too strong to ignore. Man, what he’d do for a bowl of solyanka right about now…
Idly, he reaches for his own vision, grabbing the hinge of his belt just to feel it there. He has no extended use for it here, unless he wants to freeze to death. For some vision holders, this would bring about anxiety, knowing that their vision— the very acknowledgement of their ambition— could backfire on them in certain environments. But Childe doesn’t mind. Sometimes, he even prefers things that way, would happily discard his vision if it were not welcome in a fight. There are times where true strength can only be tested in the worst of odds. In those moments where Childe is forced to trust nothing but his senses, out of necessity rather than faith, he feels as though he’s reached a turning point; he’ll have gained a greater understanding of his body if he survives, expand what he can do with it, learn how he can press its limits further. It excites him. It reminds him of his younger years, blurry as they may be, when winter seemed to lunge at him fiercely.
Diluc works quickly for the most part. He only stops a couple times when he gets too close to what Childe calls sinkers, weak points in the snowpack that would cause another snowslide. Taking the warning at face value, Diluc regards those areas with caution and moves on. Childe continues talking about snowslides as if Diluc had asked. Sweat accumulates at Diluc’s brow and underneath the mask, but he can only sigh into the heat, wishing he had dressed lighter.
They get a decently sized entryway stable. Childe vocalizes his approval, but reiterates that it’s still important to watch out for possible collapse, briefly signaling for silence with a finger over his mouth while walking through. Diluc stops to hydrate before following him with light steps.
It’s almost too convenient when the adventurers are all right there, huddling around a small fire further in, sticking to the cave’s walls for support. But Childe was expecting it. Good, he thinks. It was smart of them to stay close to the cave’s entrance.
Suddenly, Diluc drags him down by the back of his coat, personal space forgotten. Childe can feel Diluc’s breath on his ear when he whispers, “Were you lying to me?”
“About what?” Childe strains, neck craned to meet Diluc’s height.
Diluc tugs a bit harder. “Stop playing dumb.”
“I wasn’t lying.” Childe inhales sharply, flexes his free hands. “I’m just used to this climate. If they were all in one piece, then this is where they’d be.”
Diluc sucks his teeth, pushing Childe away from him roughly. He glances at the group of adventurers, who haven’t noticed either of them yet, and scowls. He should be relieved that they’re okay. And he is, of course he is, but… He looks back at Childe, who’s got his hand on his hip now, a lazy smile on his face.
“You don’t believe me.”
“Of course not. You expect me to believe this was a lucky guess?”
“Educated guess,” Childe corrects, but Diluc doesn’t budge. Childe waves him off lightly. “You’ll see I’m telling the truth soon enough.”
Diluc scoffs. “So you say. If I find even one thing off about you, you’ll be beyond Celestia’s help.”
“You have a funny way of saying thank you.” Childe smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “In any case, I found them in under an hour like I said, so I’ll be sticking around a little longer.”
Diluc clenches his jaw, and then relaxes. “Fine. You want to help?” He gestures to the group of adventurers halfheartedly. “Go on, then.”
“Hm…” Childe raises an eyebrow, rolling his shoulders around where Diluc grabbed him. “Sure.” He tosses Diluc a smug, mischievous look before cupping his mouth with his hands and yelling, “You guys alright?”
“Hey!” Diluc whisper-shouts, alarmed by the sudden noise. After all that talk about avalanche prevention…
Childe ignores him, walking towards the group and leaving Diluc forced to follow in annoyance.
The group startles for a moment as well, but inevitably brightens up at the sight of someone new, even more than the now open clearing of the cave.
“It’s the Darknight Hero! See, I told you he would come!” A young boy exclaims. He’s got a sling over his arm, bright eyed despite the obvious injury. Childe’s focus lingers on the cast for a second. How long has the kid been like that? Since last week?
“Was he always ginger?” An older man questions, glasses obscuring his full expression, “I thought it was black, like… well, the dark night.”
A third member, the closest out of three to Childe’s age, speaks up to object, “No, you’ve got it all wrong! His hair is bright red, like a bonfire sparkling! I saw it myself!”
There are three other people within the group, making six total, but they’re seemingly uninterested in the topic.
Childe looks back at Diluc inquisitively and mouths, “Darknight Hero?”
It’s hard to distinguish who else is speaking between the voices now, as they begin to discuss the topic in more detail. Childe isn’t sure if he should be pleased or worried that they’re not more concerned with being rescued. That is what they’re doing here, right?
“Just a rumor going around.” Diluc dismisses, “Go on, ask if they’re alright.”
To say the group is striking for its size, would be an understatement. Diluc’s encountered his fair share of adventurers, in and out of Mondstadt, but none so randomly strung together in age. The more talkative half, quickest to enter debate, end up introducing themselves by accident when Childe nears.
“Hey, are you the Darknight?” The boy yells more than asks, getting up to approach Childe. The guy around Childe’s age gets up as well, following protectively. It wasn’t noticeable when he was sitting, but he walks with a limp. A result of his time here, or something more chronic? Clearly more than the avalanche has disrupted their excursion.
Childe raises his eyebrow, trying to adjust to this kid’s excitement, debating whether to tell the truth or not. Thankfully, he’s granted time when the other guy speaks up instead, objecting. “Theo, he’s not the Darknight!”
Theo looks between his peer and Childe, before asking Childe, “Aren’t you?”
“Stop asking him!”
Theo frowns. “Why?”
“You can’t just trust strangers all the time!”
“But they’re helping us!”
“That’s not… the point…” The guy sighs, leans further on his left leg and runs a hand through his bangs. They fall just over his eyes without covering them, and his hair is generally short overall, tied into a low ponytail that barely reaches his shoulders.
Childe tries not to laugh at their exchange. Though they initially don’t look very similar, with Theo being blonde and the other brunette, there’s a sense of familiarity there that reminds Childe of his own siblings. The other members of the group have no qualms with displaying their amusement though, all between smiles and shared glances.
“Well,” The older man from before says, snickering, “Whatever the case, thank you for your assistance.” He stands a little straighter, introducing himself to Childe. “I’m Stevens, a researcher of ancient history. Particularly that of Dragonspine.”
Diluc’s eyes narrow as he glances over to the younger members of the group. “Is that the purpose of your expedition?”
Stevens clears his throat, turning to Diluc with slight surprise. “Um, no… It’s, how should I explain…” He glances over to the biggest of them, clearly the oldest of the group: his hair has grayed, his skin wrinkling around the joints despite his large build, hands scarred and calloused so much it can be seen miles away. Childe figures he’s some kind of craftsman, with those hands. Still… it’s entirely possible he’s a fighter, since his arms are covered in bandaged wounds. He’s the most injured out of them all from the looks of it.
The guy shifts with discomfort as the rest of the group turns towards him. “What? Don’t look at me.”
“Come on, Orban… They came to help us.”
Orban grimaces. If he realizes how easy he is to read, he doesn’t care; his tone is just as unenthused when he grumbles, “Fine… This was supposed to be an introductory expedition to Dragonspine, open to members of the adventurers guild. She wouldn’t get off my case about leading it, so I agreed to get her off my back, but… Stevens is the one you should talk to.”
Stevens looks as though he’s had something sour when he refutes, “You told me this would be relevant to my research.”
“And you believed me.” Orban counters, “Fact is, you’re better at dealing with people. Don’t know why she didn’t just ask you to begin with.”
“She?” Diluc interrupts, returning them both to the topic at hand.
Orban pauses for a second, realizing his mistake before clarifying, “Iris. She’s the person who oversees the Dragonspine camp. There’s not a lot of people in it, obviously… If you ask me, this was more of a recruitment gimmick than anything else. As you can see, nobody showed up.”
“Is that so.” Diluc says, scanning over the group. Besides Orban and Stevens, there’s the pair of possible siblings, and two women sitting furthest back alongside the wall. Sure, it’s not a lot, but…
Childe, who has been quiet this whole time, finally speaks up. His voice is scathing, though his expression stays pointedly neutral. “Why are you speaking as though this doesn’t concern you? Nobody cares if you wanted to do this or not. When you take up a responsibility it’s your duty to complete it with effort. Especially,” Childe stresses, “when you have kids with you. You should be ashamed.”
Diluc steps towards Childe, voice quiet. “There’s no need to…”
Childe doesn’t match Diluc’s volume. “What? I’m just telling it how it is.”
Diluc frowns, but doesn’t argue. It’s not as if he wasn’t thinking the same thing himself.
Orban stays unconcerned, unwilling to defend himself under scrutiny. His voice is just as rough as his condition. Diluc gets the feeling that Orban’s disposition has also been weathered away, by older age or something else, he doesn’t know. “If you can do better, be my guest. This is the last time I do something for Iris.”
“Orban!” Stevens exclaims, his expression concerned, “You don’t mean that.”
“She hinders my work, I’ll hinder hers. Don’t see her getting scabbed up to high hell.”
Stevens glances at Orban’s arms, which only makes him sigh and sink into himself. His posture worsens slightly as his back hunches. A heavy silence seems to overcome the group of adventurers at the exchange.
Diluc looks over them quickly. Though he doesn’t care for Orban’s lack of responsibility, he has to admit it really does seem like Stevens is the most suitable leader of them all.
At least until one of the women speaks up, objectively the most striking of everyone based on appearance alone: a severe burn scar claims the left side of her face, distorting her lips but not quite reaching her eyes, the true extent of her injury unknown as it dips underneath a black turtleneck. “If I may—” She starts, her voice soft but firm enough to project and cross distance, “All of us had reasons to join this expedition unrelated to the camp’s goals. I am sure that if not here, we would have found another way to explore the mountainside. There’s no point in tossing blame.”
Childe’s attention shifts, eyebrow raising with challenge. “You’re fine with leaving it like that? Even when you’re injured yourself?”
She looks down at her right wrist for a moment, compressed by a splint, considering it. But ultimately, her expression is unaffected when she looks back at Childe. “Yes.”
“That’s fine and all, but it’s not just you here. You’re not the only one who’s been hurt.”
“I know that. Obviously, I know… But there isn’t any point in fighting right now. We’re already more than exhausted to be tossing blame.”
The woman beside her finally chimes into the conversation. “It’s not that I don’t agree with you… Darknight,” she emphasizes, eyes narrowing slightly, “but Edith is right when it comes to our personal motivations. Nothing is stopping me from coming back here when I’m rested.”
Theo, who has been watching the exchange with everyone else, interrupts them both. “Um… I know things are bad right now, but Edith has been really nice! We shouldn't fight.”
Childe sucks his teeth, turning to Diluc with hushed annoyance. “I’m going to say something harsh if you don’t speak up right now.”
Diluc fails to hide his confusion but lowers his voice, “Why are you—”
Childe keeps himself from rolling his eyes. “I said I’d help you find them, not play house.”
Right. Diluc’s senses return to him then, a fraction of a smile twisting his lips when he whispers, “Alright.” Louder, he addresses the woman, “Might I ask for an introduction before we get too far in debate?”
“Ah…” She nods, “My name is Edith. I'm honestly a bit embarrassed to be getting caught like this, but… it is what it is.” Gesturing besides her, she continues, “This is Ylgr. The guy over there is Lewyn.”
Lewyn huffs in protest, exclaiming, “I can introduce myself!”
“Really?” Ylgr laughs at him. “What happened to stranger danger?”
“That was because Theo…!” Lewyn sighs, crossing his arms. “Why are you suddenly talkative now that Edith spoke up? Go stick your head in those books of yours already.”
“Not books. Maps.” She corrects with a scowl. “You’re such a child.”
“What’d you say?”
“Um—” Stevens interrupts, “This really isn’t the time to argue…”
“Who’s arguing?” Lewyn and Ylgr snap back in unison.
On second thought, Childe thinks these two might be the more convincing pair of siblings.
“R-Right…” Stevens backs down, and Edith frowns.
Diluc shakes his head slightly. If this is the extent of group interaction, it’s no wonder they got stranded like this. “We’ll talk about who to hold accountable later, if you insist on holding a debate. For now, there are things I’d like to make clear.” He glances at Childe, and then back to the group, “One: You’ve all been officially declared missing by the Knights of Favonius. They are not the ones declaring you found.”
“In other words, the Knights of Favonius didn’t send you,” Ylgr translates.
“Two,” Diluc states sternly, ignoring her, “We’ll be guiding you back down the mountain as quickly as possible. This means you all need to muster the strength that you have left for the last stretch. I have rations and I’ll be inspecting your injuries by nightfall, so prepare yourself for the morning.”
“Rations?” Lewyn asks, clearly excited.
Ylgr is less enthused. “Hold on, what do you mean by inspecting our injuries?”
“Exactly as it sounds.” Diluc says but explains anyways, “I need to know everyone’s physical state so I can assist you all. The climate here is not kind, as you know. Besides that, I’m concerned about the overall risk of wound infection, so I’ll be correcting any issues with the treatment you’ve given yourselves.”
“Are you a doctor?” Stevens asks.
“No,” Diluc answers honestly. “I am, however, medically trained. I wouldn’t bother checking if I wasn’t knowledgeable enough to do so accurately. Unless you’ve done more than basic first aid?”
“Um…” Stevens looks back at Edith for some reason, before conceding, “Alright.” He dips his head in agreement.
“Is that all for questions?”
“Uh, no,” Lewyn stresses, “Rations? Can we get to that part now?”
Diluc pauses to clear his throat. “I need to make sure I divide correctly, but yes. I take it you’re asking because you’re not doing well with food?”
“Well with food, he says. It’s been days!” Lewyn groans, closing his eyes with a frown.
“Three,” Stevens adds on. “Water is plentiful here, so it’s not as bad as it sounds.”
“Don’t believe him,” Lewyn scoffs. “He barely eats as is. Whenever I’m at the camp I see him with a protein bar or nothing at all, up to here in books.”
“I’m just maximizing my ability to work.” Stevens sighs before amending, “I didn’t say I wasn’t hungry.”
“Okay,” Diluc says, his expression held tight as he grabs his supplies. “One at a time now. And remember to eat slowly— You can’t overdo it after a fast.”
While everyone eats what’s been handed to them, Childe looks around aimlessly, left with nothing to do. Diluc intends on handling everything on his own, which suits Childe just fine. It isn’t like he’s raring to help, but… Suppressing a sigh, he looks up at the sky. The endless snow is both fascinating in it’s harshness and boring in it’s consistency. In a way, it manages to calm him down. There are no birds, of course, the storm too harsh for most of them to weather. Most of them, anyway. He hasn't given much thought to what’s native here. Surely there are owls at least?
Naturally, a snowy owl doesn’t decide to come out of the woodwork with the thought, even if there are ones here. Childe shakes his head and exhales. What else, then?
He ends up looking at Theo, who’s sitting alone with rations in hand. Diluc had given the group concentrated food bars for now, the loaded kind hikers pack, to compensate for their lack of vitamins and energy. After a few moments of idle observation, it becomes clear that Theo isn’t eating. Huh… Childe walks over, waving.
Theo looks up at him and waves back earnestly. He’s folded the bar’s wrapper over itself neatly, holding it closed with his good hand. It doesn’t look like he had more than a bite.
“You don’t like it?” Childe asks, pointing towards the bar and crouching down to reach Theo’s eye level.
Theo frowns at the bar and shakes his head. “I shouldn’t eat it all right away.”
“Yeah?” Childe scans over the rest of the group for a second. “If this is about what that guy said, you don’t have to eat that slowly. He’s worried you might throw up, but that’s not a lot to eat to begin with, so it’s fine.”
“No,” Theo shakes his head, grip tightening on his ration a little too hard. Childe eyes narrow a bit as he focuses on the action. Theo’s voice is a lot lower with strain as he refutes simply, “It is a lot.”
Childe thinks it’s a bit out of character for the bubbly kid he’s been met with so far. But then again, it hasn’t even been a day. What would he know? “Still, you should eat. You need the energy.”
“And then how long am I supposed to wait?” Theo counters; though his expression is clouded with anger, his voice goes quiet with defeat. A beaten down, tired, argument. That’s not the kind of reaction you get after a few days without food. Sure, there’d probably be an initial shock upon fasting for the first time, but that’s exactly why someone would be grateful and receive anything to end it. This, though… he can’t call it gratitude. It’s more like apprehension, an instilled fear that’s just been quieted by familiarity.
“Ah…” Childe whispers under his breath, expression falling. It’s true that the adventurers guild provides work for those in unstable living conditions, and kids are no exception to that. Childe shouldn’t be surprised. He’s not surprised, not really. It’s enough of a common situation that Childe can’t be bothered to listen to each individual case. But as long as he’s here, faced with one such case directly, he has no choice but to pay attention.
It isn’t altruism. The moment they part ways, this concern will part as well. Childe will not think of Theo, and eventually he won’t be able to remember the boy’s name, or why he had committed it to memory to begin with. It’s a biased and restrained giving. Still, Childe gives. He’ll be damned if the kid doesn’t eat.
Theo isn’t going anywhere but Childe says, “Wait here,” as he stands back up anyways.
He scans the area once more and spots Diluc this time. He looks like he’s still sorting rations, so Childe walks towards him with purpose and gets to the point quickly.
“Hey,” Childe starts, tapping Diluc on the shoulder urgently, “Give me one of those.”
Diluc bristles at the contact. It takes him a moment to register what Childe’s asking for, his eyebrows raising when he gets it. “I somehow doubt you’re in need.”
“It’s not for me.” Childe’s tone is completely serious, his hand extended outward and demanding. He probably would have argued if his mind wasn’t elsewhere. He’s sure he would, actually, jokes already forming on the tip of his tongue. It doesn’t matter. He can push Diluc’s buttons later.
The stark change in Childe’s demeanor makes Diluc listen in the end. Reluctantly, he passes Childe one of the bars without a word.
Diluc watches him walk off in… Theo’s direction. Theo did latch onto Childe (really, the idea of a Darknight Hero) rather quickly, now that Diluc is thinking about it. It would make sense that they’d sit together, but… it doesn’t explain the preferential treatment on Childe’s part. Does he have a soft spot for kids or something? No, Diluc shakes his head softly, I’m overthinking it. All Childe’s doing is spinning tall tales, though Diluc wishes he wouldn’t. The Darknight Hero rumors are just going to get even worse after this. Diluc can’t tell if it’s a blessing or a curse that Childe looks nothing like him. He wasn’t particularly interested in getting people off his trail, but something like this might even keep Kaeya guessing for a while.
“Um…” Lewyn mumbles as he approaches, interrupting Diluc’s thoughts. “Do you have a spare canteen?”
“Oh, yes. One moment…”
In the meantime, Childe returns to Theo, crouching down once again to speak comfortably. “Here.”
Theo gives him a look. It’d make Childe laugh if they were anywhere else. “Isn’t that yours?”
“It’s yours,” Childe says, waving his free hand. “I’m giving you your next ration in advance.”
“Is that okay?”
“Hmm… I don’t know,” Childe overstates playfully, “Are you going to eat it right away?”
“No!”
Childe smiles, exhaling softly. “Then there’s no problem.”
Theo takes the bar, but doesn’t make any move to eat.
Childe reads the question written on Theo’s face in thick ink. “I wouldn’t give you extra food if we didn’t have enough to begin with,” Childe clarifies. It’s a small lie— he has no idea how much food Diluc has, but that’s of no concern to him. Right now, there’s food. Tomorrow, there will be food, he wants to say. Eat. “As for how long you have to wait… I’m leaving that up to you.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes,” Childe says, the word blurring into a laugh. “I’m sure.”
Theo bites his lip until he decides to chew on something else. He puts the second bar away for safekeeping in his pocket, and finally starts to finish what he was originally given. Childe sits down next to him, satisfied with that result.
“Wanna know something else?” He prompts.
“Mmphm?” Theo manages midbite.
“I’m a really good hunter. Rabbit, boar, fish… I can catch anything if I put my mind to it.”
“Anything?”
“Yeah! I know this place like the back of my hand. When we head out, I’ll show you. Know anything about hunting?”
Theo shakes his head. “I can fish, though. Everyone knows that.”
Childe laughs, because he’s certain everyone does not, but it would be nice if they did. “Fishing then. Let’s go fishing before we get out of here.”
“Okay…” Theo finishes eating, folds the empty wrapper before putting it in his pocket.
“Cheer up,” Childe tries, patting Theo on the shoulder gently. “I’ll even go hunt some fish now if you want. That’s why, even if the rations run out, you’ll be alright. Nothing’s gonna happen to you while I’m here.”
He means it.
Theo nods and Childe isn’t sure if he really understands, but when Theo’s posture finally relaxes, Childe feels himself mimicking the movement with a sigh. It’s enough, for now. And if it’s anything more than a means to stave off his boredom, well… Childe thinks he doesn’t care either way.
Childe would have sat there for longer, but Diluc announces that he’s going to start going over injuries, and Childe heads over to help.
“No.” Diluc rejects him easily. “It’ll be easier on my own.”
“What? Come on, that couldn’t be more true. I mean, even doctors have nurses, don’t they?”
Diluc snorts. “You’re going to be my nurse?”
Even Childe can’t mask his surprise at that, and Diluc curses himself for speaking without any thought. There’s something wrong with him today.
Diluc clears his throat, along with any traces of amusement in his tone. “I didn’t mean to imply anything by that.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“Right.” Diluc weaves his hands together, idly scratching with his thumbs. “The point is you’ll distract me. We don’t see eye to eye.”
“Aw, come on. I think we’d work pretty well together.”
“Then what was that earlier? I can’t go a minute without considering what you’re doing, because this whole time you haven’t considered anyone’s thoughts but your own. You can’t just hand out rations whenever you feel like it. That defeats the purpose of trying to distribute food in the first place.”
“Oh, but that was—” Childe pauses, bringing a hand up to his jaw and squishing skin. “You can think whatever you want about me, but giving the kid that food was the only way to get him to eat.”
“Did he demand for more or something? You still can’t—”
“No, stop. Just listen.” Childe waves his hands in mock surrender, waiting for Diluc to assess him before he explains himself. “That kid… He’s starved before. It was either a lot worse than this, or more consistent. Could be both. Who knows what’s up in his head, really, but it was clear enough that he didn’t trust you when you said you had rations.”
It’s not for me. Why is Diluc only thinking about this now?
“That’s… I didn’t know.” A lame response, but his brain is still catching up to the information, wondering why he didn't consider something so obvious.
“He didn’t eat the extra ration, at least not yet, if you’re concerned about that.” Childe offers, rocking on his feet. “I just needed to show him that more food was coming, so he could eat what was already in front of him.”
“You could’ve told me that.”
Childe’s halfway to a grimace when he asks, “Would you have taken my word?”
“I did just now.” Diluc clicks his teeth, “Don’t give me that look. I don’t trust you, but there’s no reason why you’d lie about that. Unless I'm misjudging?”
“I didn’t say anything,” Childe defends, this time with a grin. “But I just thought you’re a little more reasonable than I assumed.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing, nothing…” Childe backs off, “Ah, but I needed to tell you about this anyways, so it’s good you brought it up. I’ll keep giving him food in advance. He budged earlier, but I can tell his anxiety will speak for him sooner than later if I stop.”
“Fine.” Diluc agrees, looking out into the snowscape. All those snowflakes, each with their own individual crystalline structure, look like nothing but blurry dots in his eyes. He watches them fall onto his jacket sleeve, where they melt and damp faux fur.
“Hey, relax.” Childe assures, “It’s always harder to spot behavior we haven’t experienced for ourselves. That’s not always a bad thing.”
But you noticed it. Diluc can’t get the following question out. Whatever Childe’s supposedly been through is not only none of Diluc’s business, but irrelevant to the things he’s done as a harbinger. That’s not something Diluc needs to tell himself. He knows.
“Seriously—” Childe pushes, “You’re already doing a lot for him.”
It’s not a consolation that helps much, but it’s an attempt nonetheless. Does he look upset? Theo as well… “I can’t say something like that yet.” Diluc shakes his head, changing the subject, “But I suppose you can make yourself useful until I can.”
“I knew you’d come around!”
“You would’ve stuck around anyways,” Diluc huffs. “Now pass me that bag behind you.”
Diluc was going to call Orban first, since his wounds appear to be the most severe, but Edith comes up to them both and volunteers to go first. There was no reason to object, so Diluc wastes no time in looking over Edith’s splint up close while Childe watches.
“Did you wrap this yourself?”
“Ah, yes.”
“It’s a little loose,” Diluc nods to himself. He turns Edith’s arm gently by the palm, watching out for any reaction to the movement. She stays silent even as he increases his pressure. “I’d like to rewrap it, but your hand… Is this really a wrist sprain? You’re better off telling me right now.”
Edith laugh is strained when she shakes her head. “It’s not a sprain.”
“Why did you bandage it up so thoroughly?”
“I have a pretty bad gash across my wrist. I think it needs stitches, but we don’t have the right supplies.”
“I do.” Diluc counters, “If it needs stitches, you should’ve said something to begin with. I’ll need to get started right away.”
Edith nods. “Actually, there’s something I’d like to say before you do.”
“Yes?”
“It’s about Theo…” Edith prefaces, “I’d appreciate it if you left his arm alone for now.”
“Why?” Childe interrupts.
Edith purses her lips like she’s sitting on the answer, and Diluc glances between the two of them. He can understand Childe’s earlier animosity towards Orban, but Edith seems more caring in comparison… Is there a reason he’s being so confrontational?
“The skin wasn’t punctured or anything horrific like that, but the bone was definitely fractured. He was in really bad shape for a while. I think it’s better if he keeps the splint on until he can see an actual doctor. It’s too rough out here.”
“That’s up to his arm. If there’s nothing wrong with the treatment that’s one thing, but we’ll see for ourselves if that’s the case.”
Maybe Childe is just like that. The kind of person without a filter.
“Comrade?”
“What?” Diluc says, coming back to himself. “Excuse me. I was just thinking about the fracture.”
Childe leisurely rests his hand on his hip. “See? I get you’re concerned, but he knows what he’s doing.”
Clearly meant for Edith, but Diluc objects anyways, “You’re exaggerating. I shouldn’t have gotten distracted with someone right in front of me.”
“Oh no, it’s quite alright,” Edith assures, “I was the one who brought this up to begin with.”
“In any case, I’d like to focus on what’s in front of me. Can we look at your wrist now?”
Edith balls her hands into loose fists. “Of course.”
Diluc gets to work. Theo’s name isn’t mentioned again, but Diluc keeps Childe in the corner of his eye while he treats Edith’s wound in silence.
After Edith, they take care of Orban’s injuries, and then Childe calls Theo over. It’s not like the order matters, and Diluc really had been thinking about Theo’s arm after Edith’s preamble, but what is this?
“And then there was the time where I fought off a bear with a pair of barbecue tongs—”
Diluc’s been resisting the urge to tell them to be quiet for the past 15 minutes. Once Theo started asking questions, the ball had already been thrown all the way to the other side of the court. Childe started telling stories without complaint, in a way that made it seem like he’s done this before, but the tales themselves feel too tall to be prepared. Weapon of choice aside, a bear? Seriously? “There aren’t any bears in Mondstadt.”
Childe raises his eyebrow, “Of course not. But this wasn’t in Mondstadt, remember?”
Theo speaks up before Diluc can. “You’ve been outside of Mondstadt?”
Against Theo’s enthusiasm, Diluc gets the hint and returns to wound care once again. Theo’s arm was actually treated well so there’s not a lot to do. He just hopes Childe doesn’t say anything more outlandish than that. Fortunately, it seems his interruption steered the topic elsewhere for now.
“Yes!” Childe confirms. “Let me tell you about the bustling markets of Liyue…”
“There,” Diluc announces, “You’re all done.”
Theo looks at his injuries casually, based on the way he hops off the rock he was propped on right after. He swings his free arm and then stretches his legs as much as he can without straining his bad arm.
Diluc watches, but steps back quietly.
Theo turns towards Childe with peering eyes at the same time, calling, “Mr. Darknight?”
Childe hums in acknowledgment to the given name. If thinking a hero has saved him makes Theo feel better, then by all means, maintain the illusion. He looks like he has more vigor, now. It’s exactly how a kid like him should be.
“Thank you!”
See? Childe smiles. “You’re welcome. But you know… My comrade over here did most of the work.”
Diluc bites his cheek when Theo turns towards him with wide eyes.
“Um, thank you!” He exclaims, scratching his cheek lightly.
“Sure.” It’s all Diluc can manage to get out. He glances at Childe tongue-tied, surprised to see him already staring back. Childe’s eyebrow raises slightly, but his expression is still just as soft as it was with Theo, only seems to melt more the longer Diluc stares. Like this, Childe’s rough edges have been sanded down by the snow in his hair and on his clothes, revealing someone more true than Diluc knows.
It’s uncomfortable. Diluc knows Childe is crueler than this, so why put on airs? Still, the situation is more safe if Childe continues to play along. It’s Diluc’s fault for getting confused. The truth spares no one, he reminds himself, and that includes Childe, no matter how much the guy wants to act nice.
When it’s clear that’s all Diluc is going to say, Theo goes back next to Childe, tugging on his jacket sleeve. “Can we go now?”
“We?”
“You weren’t done telling your story.”
“Ah,” Childe nods sagely. “Another time. I’ve gotta assist my partner here while we finish taking care of everyone else.”
“You can go,” Diluc interrupts. “I can finish on my own.”
“Let's go!” Theo encourages, but Childe pays him no mind.
“Just because you can, doesn’t mean you should. I told you I would help.”
“And I’m telling you that you don’t have to anymore.”
“So what?” Diluc thinks he might’ve set something off with the way Childe glares at him, but the hostility leaves as quick as it came. “I want to help.”
There’s a moment of silence where they stare each other down, but Diluc gives in, silently turning back to his belongings. It’s as much of an okay as Childe is going to get, and he takes it enthusiastically.
He turns back to Theo and brings a hand to his shoulder. “Sorry— This is something I’ve gotta do first. You understand, right?”
“I guess… But after, you’re definitely telling me about the other places you’ve been!”
“Hah! Alright.” Childe laughs, tapping Theo’s shoulder affectionately. “Good kid.”
Diluc doesn’t know what to think when he sees Childe act familial, for lack of a better term, with the guild members. There’s no reason to curry so much favor with them. No reason to stick to them at all, regardless of Childe’s excuses. Unless… This is a setup to scout adventurers for the Fatui. Create a disturbance, and then save them from it, pretending to be the good guy. Go on about how Snezhnaya is an equally good country. It wouldn’t be the first time they’ve tried to recruit citizens from Mondstadt. Would such a small group be worth the trouble? The issue there is that Mond’s population is small to begin with.
Ultimately, Diluc can’t tell. He hates it. One way or another, he’ll have to make Childe crack.
But now isn’t the time for an interrogation, as much as he’d like to give one. So Diluc watches Childe send Theo off in silence, sorts through his tools again just to keep his hands busy, and gets ready to call for Ylgr. He will make sure this group is safe above all. It’s this intention that holds Diluc together as Childe’s presence winds him up and down like a toy, plays recorded memories from the past that he thought were long gone, lost to only be found in his deepest of dreams.
Later, when Diluc’s sure the adventurers are all asleep, he finds Childe leaned back against the base of a tree with his eyes closed. For a moment Diluc considers leaving Childe alone, but suspicion pools in Diluc’s gut and drives him to get up. He can’t help it. Childe doesn’t move, but looks up at him as he approaches and nods.
Childe’s entirely alert, Diluc observes.
Knowing that makes it easier. Diluc doesn’t bother wasting his time, and asks outright. “What was that about?”
“What?”
Diluc rests his hand on his hip. “Mr. Darknight?”
“Oh,” Childe shrugs. “They looked excited talking about him, especially the kid. I figured there wasn’t any harm in playing along. Boost their morale, you know?”
“You’re perpetuating false rumors.”
“Perpetuating—” Childe laughs, waving his hand lightly. “I’m just not correcting their assumptions. Would you rather I tell them I’m a Fatui Harbinger?”
“Watch it.” Even though Diluc knows they’re the only ones awake, he can’t help the unease that swirls in his chest at Childe’s nonchalance.
Childe shrugs. “That’s what I thought. Unless you have something better to tell them?”
“Stop exaggerating their assumptions then. If they come back to Mondstadt with nothing but tall tales, people might actually begin to believe this nonsense.”
Childe stares at Diluc like he’s trying to parse something out, and Diluc focuses on his breathing while he waits for a conclusion. He doesn’t think he’s said anything hard to come to terms with. The longer the silence goes on, the more he can feel his own irritation rise.
“Tell me something,” Childe finally says. “Are you really not with the Knights of Favonius?”
“No.” Diluc answers sharply. Of course Childe would steer the conversation elsewhere. “Does that matter?”
“Well… I just thought you might’ve been under orders.” Childe has that look again, like he’s evaluating. “You don’t have to go this far. We’re already leading their way back.”
“I do.” Diluc doesn’t even have to consider it. “As long as it’s necessary, I’d rather keep the peace and safety of Mondstadt within my reach. Their wellbeing takes precedence over everything else.”
“You don’t think that’s excessive?”
“Aren’t you a soldier? You of all people should understand my nationalism.”
“I guess.” Childe shakes his head, as if considering it. “This is your version of an oath, then?”
“I suppose I don’t mind you viewing it that way.” Diluc nods, “There are always things in life that nobody wants to have to do, but in the end, someone has to do it. To me, this task is as natural as any other job.”
“Natural, huh…” Childe’s posture slacks a little when he speaks.
Diluc watches as the rest of Childe relaxes, his expression going blank with unrecognizable emotion. It’s not the bloodlust from before, just… detachment. Wherever he went, Diluc doesn’t want to know.
After a moment, Diluc projects his voice a bit to compensate for Childe’s inattention when he says, “You might not see the value in it, but I actually care about the wellbeing of the people around me. Until someone shows me they can do this better, I ought to be the one looking out for other people. That’s what I believe.”
Childe blinks, and Diluc swears he can see the moment where the gears start turning in the guy’s head again, when the words get through to him. “That’s a pretty broad category, you know. I’m the closest person around right now. Will you look out for me?”
“Hah… I don’t know why I bothered explaining myself to you.”
Childe hums, taps his fingers against his knee. “Nationalism is a nice sentiment, but in the end, strangers are strangers. You can treat them like they need to be saved, but who knows what they’re really like day to day?”
“How reassuring to hear that from a Fatui soldier.”
“I’m just saying, there’s no reason for me to care about people I don’t know. You’re a bit odd to think otherwise.”
Diluc scoffs. “If you don’t care, then stop trying so hard to get in their good graces. They won’t ever follow you as long as I’m here.”
“...Is that what you think I’m doing? Seriously?” Childe questions. If he’s trying to get in anyone's ‘good graces,’ they’re definitely not an injured group of adventurers that can barely make their way around a blizzard, let alone fight.
“I wouldn’t put it past you.” Diluc frowns, assessing Childe’s reaction. “Whatever it is, it can’t be any good. I’m going to figure it out and when I do… No order of diplomacy will make me hesitate.”
“Yeah?”
Childe knows nothing. He frequents Dragonspine whenever he’s away from home just a little too long, needs to cope the only ways he knows how: submerging himself into winter, the quiet of the forest and tenacity of ice under his weight. If it were anyone else interrupting that ritual, he’d have scared them off already. But he likes the look in Diluc’s eye, thinks some of the fighter he knows is still there, able to be coaxed out.
He wants to force it out of him.
Childe rolls his eyes, hints of a smile on his face as he gets up. Good things come to those who wait. “Just try it. I for one, am going to sleep.”
Behind him, Diluc holds himself steady and doesn’t move until Childe has settled, until the only thing he can hear is the howling wind over the rapid beating of his own heart.