vergeltung | 𝐎𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭

And does it look like that can help warm you whenever it blew out your fire, give you enough strength to go find help knowing that if I did it I may not be able to find you again?

(His words for once was angry. He wasn't the type to be mad with ease unless it truly came down to it due to knowing what happened the last time he was so angry. All with Kaeya's eye, all with what he said. He may not like their similarities but he could not help but be mad.

He wasn't shivering fully, but it was clear the cold was starting to get to him now too despite what he was saying about all of it. He knew he can last if he had a means of warming himself more and yet that part of him that longed for touch was begging him to not repress it again.

Not after it felt her in his arms.)

I am not doing this to get either of us killed! I am not even suggesting that you be the one to eat it if the blizzard doesn't ease because tell me, how would I be able to find you in it?! I'm no fool and I'm certainly not taking you for one.

(Those fire filled eyes of his were so angry, so full of life that he didn't have as of late from his own actions and his own whims stopping him in that regard from living past chasing those who killed his father.

And really he who drove off his own brother.)

If you're so willing to die then so be it; I have no reason to stop you despite trying to keep us both alive, but to think you'd be so willing to reject all of it to fight, snarl, and bare your fangs at me for daring think I should send you to get help knowing I can at least signal you in comparison.

(He really hated being angry if he were honest, it took longer for him to come down when he was and he hated the feeling. The feeling of his blood boiling like it needed him to let out all of it on something.)

[ The anger in his voice has an immediate effect: the raging boil of her own blood in response, a heat churning in her veins that freezes into a solid, freezing cold glare as it surfaces, leaving her skin prickling all over with gooseflesh, her folded arms tightening around her chest as if she can somehow warm up by hugging herself. In the next moment, though, what follows it is embarrassed shame as his words settle, as she is forced to remember that he is not here trying to embarrass her, nor even to make her life more difficult; he stumbled across her by chance and is, despite their differences, trying to help. And in his anger, he asks a question that cuts to her core: is she really choosing potential death over letting him help her? Is she truly that stubborn, that determined to keep him at arm's length just because he chose a different path than she?

And then, underscoring that, a different feeling but borne of the same moment, the feeling not just of cold but of loss. His arms around her felt safe, not just warm but secure; despite herself, she liked it.

(That makes her angry in an entirely different way... but this is neither the time nor the place for it.)

She sighs. ]

...I'm sorry.

[ They're hard words to say; under any other circumstance she'd probably be swearing vengeance on him for making her feel as if she had to say them; as it is, though, she feels tired, defeated by the cold and by the anger she knows he's entirely justified for feeling.

By now, her lips are starting to turn blue, her skin paler than usual, and her arms tighten once more across her chest. She takes a step toward him, and then another; trembling, she gestures toward him, to her abandoned bedroll. ]

May I?

(The thought that she was willing to listen was enough to help subside his anger a little. He wasn't attempting to make it worse on her, that wasn't the point of his actions. Really he had been hoping that the storm was not that close so that she could be on her way with him; both having had sworn in a sense to secrecy on their parts about this and not speaking once more of it despite their actions. He wouldn't speak of it for her sake not for his own but for her. Her troubles, her path... he had no right to stop her from following that so he would if he must simply make certain that she knows he didn't hate her for her name.

He wouldn't dare tell her the rest as he often times reminded himself on, it was why he truthfully was mad at himself for liking the feeling of her in his arms. The comforting chill in comparison to his fire.

She'll never have to know anyway or so he had thought.)

... I am sorry for coming off poorly if I have been as well despite it. (That was a rarity in itself.)

You can, though you don't have to ask. (He can deal with being flustered later while attempting to drag himself back into his usual. He's near shivering despite himself by how his own lips had a tinge of blue, his skin had yet to grow paler than he normally is but it was clear even he cannot last a blizzard in Dragonspine alone no matter his vision.

Perhaps it's why his body, as tired as it was, had been just telling him to make up with her instead of allowing himself to freeze... though this was him ignoring the side of himself that he neglected so willingly. He didn't want to be snappy by more than is needed about it.)

[ Like Diluc, neither will Eula tell her temporary companion of the strange comfort and security that came from his hold on her, of the fact that she enjoyed it somehow— it's a fact she's barely willing to admit to herself as it is. But with his permission, she is quick to cross the space between them again, lifting her bedroll— and then pausing, now that she's closer, upon seeing the tinge of blue upon his lips.

So he is not immune to the effects of the blizzard either.

Another shudder of cold trips down her spine, her arms visibly trembling even as she stands with her bedroll held between both hands, but for the time being she doesn't sit with him once more. After all, if he's cold now, there's a chance that it'll get worse for him as the night stretches out and continues on; Eula may find him frustrating at the best of times, but she doesn't at all relish the idea of finding a frozen corpse at her side in this cave come morning.

Her voice shudders as she speaks. ]

You have a bedroll too, right? I have— have an idea that will help us both.

[ And she reaches out a hand, hoping he'll trust her enough to hand her whatever bedding he packed for himself for his own journey up the mountain. ]

I do, yes.

(Though he isn't sure what she intended to do, he did take out his own after a few minutes to reveal a well cared for but warm bedroll that he kept on his person for these trips. He didn't normally plan to stay the night up there either but it would seem that there was no choice for the two of them.

He rarely did allow himself to take the company of others for these things as well but that was another thing in itself entirely. Him becoming a corpse by circumstance would not help anything either; that was why he caved so easily on giving her the roll.

With that soon given to her, he took note that the cold outside was worsening enough that it was a good thing he opted to give up on the intel and stayed.

Having her become a corpse despite differences wouldn't sit well with him either.)

... I hope if Kaeya does have to report us as missing that he doesn't embellish it the way he does our fight. I didn't blind him, I only scarred his eye.

(Looks like he decided to mention what she was going to comment on earlier too in the end. He felt he should clarify that much despite the current situation.) Even if he does have pirate fantasies.

Thank you.

[ She takes the bedroll from him, and then crouches down to set to work unrolling it. Her actions are slow and shaky due to the cold, but stubbornness helps her cause as she proceeds to unbutton the length first of hers, and then his, opening each to the elements, and then inverting hers so that she can button them together; when she's done, she's left with one bedroll, twice the size on account of being each of theirs combined.

Despite the extremity of the cold, embarrassment brings a slight tinge of red to her pale cheeks as she finishes the task, the blue-haired woman looking back up at him even as she tries to figure out how to explain what she has just done and why— but thankfully he's talking, and his words make her brows lift, make her bark out a laugh of surprise and disbelief.

Surprise not in Kaeya's embellishment of the details— she'd kind of expected that, after all— but more in the way Diluc responds to it.

It's thankfully enough to calm her nerves, and she's able to spread the bedroll out on the ground, looking at him meaningfully as she moves to climb into her side of it, still sitting, but now cocooned on all but one side— the side left open for him. Her chattering teeth and trembling lips mean that she still sounds ridiculous, but her composure at least is secure. ]

Come on. Your Vision might help you, but you look about as cold as I feel right now— and it's going to get colder before it gets warmer. The way we were sitting was helpful, but... this will help too.

(She was right. He is in fact feeling colder than earlier once the blizzard had kicked up, it was why though reluctantly given he knew that part of him would crave more he stood up and climbed into his side of the bedroll. He half thought about wrapping his jacket around them but it'd put himself more at risk; he didn't wear anything too warming beneath it in his suit which was obvious.

The jacket itself kept him warm well enough with his gloves though he did seem a little glad that he got a laugh out of her. Even if it was at Kaeya's expense.

Not that he cared much to hold back whenever it came to his brother's comments and antics but Diluc did seem a little more at ease about it. The two of them would have to last through the evening whilst hoping the blizzard eased then, plus he needed to conserve his energy to make certain they both stayed warm enough for survival.

If he wasn't able to, it would be game over in a sense though he shook the thoughts off immediately.)

Right... I'm not certain how long it'll last, but perhaps if we do fall asleep it might be gone by then. If not, maybe it will have eased enough for one of us to try contacting the others.

(And... he was in fact getting comfortable like this just a little though every fiber of his being was screaming against it.)

[ Once he settles in to his side of the bedroll, she moves until she's sitting against him, not really in his lap like before now that they have the bedroll to cocoon them, but closer than she would usually feel comfortable— closer than she honestly feels comfortable now. And even though she got his permission before, once she's settled against him she looks up again, her expression serious, concerned. ]

Is this okay?

[ She sounds surprisingly composed, but the truth is that she's a mess, her cheeks a little too pink and her pulse a little too fast, because everything about this is mortifying. Every instinct she has is telling her to pull away, put distance between them—

Except, of course, for the instincts telling her to stay, to press closer, to allow herself to actually enjoy the warmth and the comfort and the niceness of just being held.

There are too many of that second kind of instinct for Eula's liking. ]

I— I know this is not exactly an ideal situation.

[ And she's stating the obvious, but it's better to have something to say than nothing at all. Right? ]

... it should be.

(Screaming, his thoughts were screaming. They were screaming at him to stop while he was ahead but he couldn't help but stay. They were too close. He could feel that now, but he wasn't separating himself from her or anything despite his instincts screaming at him.)

Ideal or not... we cannot exactly help it.

(He was forcing himself to be composed. Truthfully that side of him that wanted more and wanted to hold her tightly in his arms was begging him to do it already.

He didn't dare go beyond more than just this. This wasn't meant to be romantic, it shouldn't be. Yet here he was making certain to hold her carefully so the warmth passed through her without much issue.

He won't give into what that starving side of his instincts desires.)

... at the very least we both swore to secrecy.

[ She nods. Slowly, her breath is normalizing, the chill in her lips and face is fading; she's starting to feel more like herself again, even if that's just on the outside.

(Because on the inside, she's dealing with a storm of the same proportions as the blizzard outside the cave; wanting both to push him away and pull him closer, desperate to claim the warmth she's feeling for her own and just as urgently wanting to flee from it. And why is that? Is she really so starved for attention that she craves the touch even of someone with whom she is fundamentally at odds?

She doesn't really want to know the answer.)

Eula focuses instead on his words, offering him a small, tired nod. ]

Right. [ And where her internal compass is apparently as confused as their opposing energies are at odds, her resolution at least is unshaken. ] There's no need for anyone else to know about this.

[ After all, it's nothing more than a matter of convenience. ]

(He found himself letting out a tired sigh of his own, his warmth was returning back to normal despite feeling someone as frosty as her buried into him the way that she was. They both were in a worse situation than they had to be for people such as them and yet they were not attempting to fight any longer so he took it as a victory.

It was painful on him. He shouldn't desire touch, affection even, from a woman who often times was at odds with him yet that side of him that longed for it wished itself to be made known. His fire filled eyes were calmed for now yet he found himself thinking on it. It was best to just chalk it up to that side he wished to ignore of himself deciding it was too unbearable.

But that was nothing important for her to know or so he thought.)

And... it isn't like they'd know of what we spoke about either. (He'd at least give opportunity to let her speak her mind if she desired it. If she felt as if she had more to say knowing this.)

[ There's a moment there where her eyes drift shut, his warmth serving to lull her into relaxation somehow despite the bitter cold of the air around them; and she wonders in passing if she should apologize, because where he's warm, she has to be cold, and would that not be uncomfortable for him?

Is she not, somehow, making him even colder?

He speaks, though, and it draws her attention back to reality, has her eyes opening once more as she peers up at him. He's offering her an opening, she realizes, freedom to talk about anything without it being privy to anyone other than him—

And somehow, she knows without asking that she can trust him.

Despite that, though, it doesn't make it much easier to open up, especially not when it comes to the cards she's always played close to her chest. She sighs, and shifts back from him ever so slightly, staying close enough to maintain contact for warmth, but far enough away that she can look at him without feeling like her face is going to catch alight. ]

What would you have me talk about, Master Diluc?

[ It's said with a smallest of smiles, an almost teasing quality at the edge of her voice as she addresses him with the formality used by his servants and the townspeople alike. ]

... last I checked if you called me that more than once you almost would feel as if you were going to smite yourself.

(A tease in response. The tension was easing more but he wasn't going to request she talked about anything specific. His objective earlier was the furthest from his mind and it wasn't as if he planned to press her on her mission either; he knew better than to do that to begin with.)

But, truthfully whatever you wish to say.

(Though the thought of her calling him 'Master Diluc' more often made him near wince. For some reason he preferred her being 'casual' whether it be his last name or first name used. Even if she was cold, he hardly noticed it by now with how his own body tends to be with these things.

Trust is something difficult to obtain from him. He assumed it was the same for her though he held no wish to spill out either of their secrets once this night was over.

He can keep such things with ease, he already had with his alter ego and he would willingly stop himself from revealing such details often if he must. The smallest of smiles on his mouth at least showed he did take this in stride however.)

Since for me there isn't much else I can speak on unless you want to question me further.

(He'd just have to invent a lie for why he came here in the first place if she chose that as a start.)

[ His comment is met with an amused smile, as a little more of the tension drains out of her body. It's true; she'd really rather not address him that way, although jesting is a different thing in her mind. (Not that she jests often, mind you. It's just kind of nice to imagine that the title makes him cringe.)

Also easing the tension for her is the fact that he's inviting her to speak about whatever she wishes— he's not, as she might otherwise have dreaded, trying to make her open up, whether it be about herself or her orders.

Still, she has no idea what she might say. She isn't exactly the most open individual, no matter how much she might wish to be. Wouldn't it be better—

Her wandering thought is cut short by another sharp blast of frozen wind into the cave, a swirl of snow and ice that seems determined to jeer at her; and where she has only just pulled back a little to ease her own embarrassment, she's forced to press back in close— and this time her arms lift to wrap around Diluc, too. ]

...I hate the cold.

[ It's murmured, and while it's definitely at least in partial response to the cold that surrounds them, there's nothing bitter or angry in her tone. Rather, if Diluc listens to her carefully, he might realize that it's something more genuine— something of a confession. ]

(Again due to their current position he was having to remind himself like a mantra to not go anymore further; they were close enough that he felt her pressed into his body but he was managing somehow enough to force his composure to stay as draining as it was. Were he to not stay composed she'd definitely smite him faster than he can say 'oops' about it. Regardless he did notice what she said.

He noticed all of it, he felt for her knowing that the temperatures currently were bad enough in how they were progressively torturing the two of them for attempting to ease their own awkwardness in this situation. Diluc truthfully at this point was wondering what he could say that wouldn't sound as if he was making light of her words.

Though he supposed it wasn't all bad to just for now take a deep breath first.)

... I actually never expected that, however, I can't say I blame you in the end for disliking it.

(Their current state aside, there was sympathy in him. Though he did after a brief pause wonder if he should state the obvious in how he dislikes drinking.

Ironic sure but he decided against it, everyone spoke of that openly but he never knew how to explain it without sounding odd.)

It might suit you as an element if I'm honest on it, but, I know it can be miserable. I don't dislike my own but... it does get tiring whenever I feel nothing except heat.

Edited 2022-10-26 03:57 (UTC)

[ There's something soothing in his words, even as she wrinkles her nose at them; it's clear from the way he answers that he doesn't understand what she means— and really, how can she blame him for that? Eula's positive she'd be hard-pressed to find anyone who understands it well.

It might suit you as an element, he says... but that's the problem. This isn't like his well-known dislike of alcohol, or the little Kätzlein girl's. Nor is it like the orphan boy in the Guild who loves adventuring so much despite his clearly being ill-suited. ]

It's not that. It's—

[ There's no one else like her. Her eyes close, because she doesn't want him to see the frustration or pain or even grief in her eyes. And lest any weakness show itself on her face, she leans in to press her head against his shoulder once more.

Yes, better this discomfort than allowing the shell of her emotions to crack open in front of him.

...Or is it trying to melt?

The idea makes her cheeks flush— yet another reason to be this close. ]

It isn't important.

...

(There's a softness in his actions, he must have missed something in the end then. Despite himself in the end he did shift, his arms comfortably around her in a better fashion yet he did start to wonder how far her grief went. His warmth was likely bad enough and yet he in the end held her like a lover.

Part of him still was hating himself over it and yet... despite that, he did not stop himself from doing this much in the end. He was always a well guarded man. His emotions, his thoughts, everything was kept perfectly in check around others.)

... what do you actually like then instead of ice?

(He isn't the best at this and he knew it. He swears he noticed briefly the pain despite her attempting to hide it even but he won't press her further on that.

So for once he would take furthering his own discomfort if it meant that she didn't have to feel as much grief and sorrow over his words.)

I'm sorry if it's too bold after my earlier comment but I did not intend to dredge up old memories, painful or not. My thought was that it's as if you were like ice, cold but fierce, frozen but pushing... or perhaps even something beautiful despite our differences.

(... he never was good at poetics here.)

[ The heat in her cheeks only deepens when Diluc's hold her changes, something softer, less stiff than before, something almost as if they are courting after all, like they're lovers and not two people on opposing parts of the same side, barely even allies let alone anything more.

She's still trying to figure out how to answer his question when he goes on to explain his words—

(and he calls her beautiful)

—and by the time he's done talking, there's a tight and uncomfortable feeling in her gut, a knot of emotion that just sits there, leaden and sickening. How dare he be so kind to someone like her? There would be an uproar if it got out: Mondstadt's most eligible bachelor, showing affection to the scion of a fallen family. It would damage her own reputation, too, as someone who doesn't require such kindness and understanding; as the strong, unflappable Reconnaissance Captain who needs no one.

But is she really so strong and unflappable? Right now, she feels weak.

...That's his fault too, she decides.

Before, Diluc Ragnvindr was someone about who she barely thought. But in just the last hour or so, she's created a mental page yards long of all the reasons she has now to seek vengeance on him.

In that case, is there really any harm in opening up further?

She wants to stay close, but he won't be able to hear her if she does, and so it's reluctantly that she pulls back slightly, her gaze still held carefully away from his, lest her eyes show vulnerability she's not ready to share. ]

The truth is... I think that is how most people see me. It keeps people at arm's length, and it lets me do my job— [ and those are good things, her tone says ] —but it's not who I really am.

[ Which leaves his first question, right? ]

...I want to be like water.

(Truth be told if asked he didn't necessarily care much to have that reputation. A lot of his actions were of a man wanting more to prepare one shall say; prepare really for his own carefully constructed revenge while not letting others see it. He did care plenty about Mondstadt, tried to genuinely make changes to it by taking care of the Fatui, the Order even whilst the sole person who knew was Kaeya. And perhaps Rosaria though she herself wouldn't say a word to begin with outside of hints and forewarning unlike Kaeya who simply said nothing unless it would amuse him.

Her words were taken in despite their current position, though there was at least something of an apologetic look to his gaze for how he shifted to hold her in the end. His thoughts aside this did serve to remind him of something he thought he heard about. That her movements were like a dance. Free, flowing, and expressive in how she releases it but Kaeya said little about it.

Nothing more than that as if he had to see it to know.

The thought which sunk deep in him was enough to make him wonder just what it is that he saw briefly from it. He wouldn't question her on that since it would be apparent that something is wrong if he knew that detail thanks to him amongst other things. Diluc hated to admit it but Kaeya's position as his insider in the knights was ironically too good to not compromise given the two did fall apart over what happened.

The gears turning in his head aside, he supposes that it's only fair he say something himself. Normally such thoughts would be kept well guarded and yet...)

... flow like water then, dancing through the night one can say?

(He hoped that wasn't too obvious though he can always blame Kaeya for mentioning that briefly in a letter meant for him.)

Maybe that's why I can see both maybe as fitting you, to dance like water, to despite that glide through everything in frigid bloom gracefully. (Though he did sigh a bit after admitting such things, that sounded harder on him than holding her looks like.) ... though this is only my thoughts to begin with.

(The brief pause gives him enough time to think over another answer.)

... truthfully I feel more as if people idolize me too much. It gets suffocating, I don't mind keeping others at arms length due to what happened to me but it doesn't change the fact that it feels more as if they're not seeing me as a person. (A person with his own thoughts, whims, and desires.)

With the staff at the winery they've seen more of me than others, admittedly so has Kaeya and yet... it still doesn't change the fact that if I were more honest that some of my reasons for these things are borderline selfish aside from really just me wanting to do what I can for Mondstadt in my own way.

(She didn't need to hear further on what he meant by 'borderline selfish'. His identity as the Darklight Hero was for him to bear and Kaeya to bear despite Rosaria seemingly figuring it out.)

[ ...dancing through the night, he says, and her eyes widen, and then narrow, and her head tilts— more like snaps, really— in his direction, and for a moment he'll see the bright coloration of her cheeks, and a brand-new hint of fury behind her purple-yellow eyes before they soften again in the next beat, replaced by apologetic realization before she ducks her head again.

Either she's been spending too much time with his estranged brother, or she's entirely too physically compromised right now— or perhaps both— but in the time they've spent here, she's come to know him better than to assume the worst of his phrases, even when they're laden with accidental innuendo. Without a doubt, Diluc actually meant dance, nothing else.

She takes a breath, and then nods. There are words on her tongue, confirmation, but he's talking still, telling her that he can see her both as water and ice, and he's doing nothing to ease the flush on her cheeks. ]

...Dance is one of the few customs of my clan I maintain. [ The words are spoken softly, with a near-hesitance far unlike the bold statements he's probably already used to from her. ] Growing up, it was something I enjoyed... more than etiquette lessons, anyway. It's not something I really have time for anymore, so... I found a way to combine it with my bladework. That might be what you have heard about.

[ With that said, she falls silent again to let him talk too. The focus on his issues is— nice might be the wrong word, but it's enough time that it helps the color of her cheeks fade, that she can look up at him once more, her head canting to the side as she listens, eyes searching his.

Imagine, she thinks, feeling overly idolized! There's almost a slight smile on her lips at the thought— not of wistful yearning, but of amusement, because they truly come from such different worlds, don't they? And yet despite that, despite everything they've done that is so different... is there not something about their situations that marks them as being the same?

It's now that one of her arms uncurls from where it's wrapped around him, her gloved hand coming up to rest on his shoulder instead. A gesture of comfort, perhaps, one similar to the type she would give to Amber, or perhaps one of camaraderie— either way, now unthinkingly bestowed upon him. ]

You do a lot, [ and she's sure she doesn't even know all of it, either ] and I have no doubt that everyone is grateful for that. But— I understand what you mean. It is easy for people to see you not as who you are, but as what you represent.

[ And despite experiencing the negative effects of that for herself, hasn't she been guilty of doing the same to him? ]

(For a moment there he worried that he would have to clarify that he did not in fact mean this the way Kaeya would have; now if it were Kaeya he knew just as well that he would have meant the other meaning had his brother been the one to say it instead. Though he himself did not mean it with that intention, he meant really it in a normal fashion. Next time he just needs to remember to say it differently involving his words in general.

But, he did listen. Calmly at that, she used her love of dance then to further her bladework? That did explain why he heard it though he'd have to later grill a certain liar on why he didn't tell him about Eula being there. Regardless he himself could not bring himself to mention this part even as he heard her speak. The imagery of it did in fact fit what he heard too and really the picture of it.

Gliding, dancing, and fluttering in frozen bloom as he had said.

It was... very fitting despite not knowing the full specifics, with her movements and her pushing onward turning the battlefield into her own personal dance floor. Though he'd keep that last bit to himself to not cause her to be angry again.)

I see... (And that he did. There were vague memories that he never once saw her as children or perhaps not that often aside from the alienation of Eula from really her family's reputation. He had to wonder what they even were doing but he didn't dare ask there either. That was something he'd rather her speak on her own terms about.) That's why I chose to keep the Winery after my father passed, the Angel's Share too... I may dislike alcohol and yet I couldn't help but do that. They meant as much to him as did him seeing me be a knight.

(Though he felt as if he may have disappointed him with his leaving if he were watching over him. Regardless he did seem just a little caught off guard she was trying to comfort him too about it. About feeling as if he were being looked at like a symbol, an object. It was true that he felt this way.

Being scrutinized over every little thing he did under the looking glass for those who live in Mondstadt's view. He couldn't help but start to feel as if he were losing what should have made him human. At least human to himself the more that it went on.

It worsened as of late since he hated to admit it but being alone has really done a number on him. Despite saying he didn't need others the way Kaeya used them.)

... a lot of it is... it does get tiring. I never once saw myself as a paragon or something untouchable, I simply wanted to go further. And even then my decision to leave the knights was not one I did on a whim.

(Because he knew if he stayed it'd only be buried further.)

So yes, it does get suffocating... what makes it ironic is that I actually didn't mind the way you spoke to me. (Because despite her negativity toward him, she wasn't looking at him like something to put on a pedestal regardless. She looked at him differently enough that he couldn't help but feel more at ease just a little.) ... admittedly that's why I mentioned you'd want to smite yourself over calling me 'Master Diluc', hearing that from you was about as foreign as hearing Kaeya tell the truth.

(Of course he had to make that small joke but it was true.)

Edited 2022-10-26 13:50 (UTC)

[ Perhaps it's weird, but she thinks she can see herself dancing for him, someday; showing him the way ice can turn to water through movement, even on the field of battle. But it's a passing thought, one she ushers quickly out of her head in favor of focusing on what he's saying, liking the fact that she can look at him without being embarrassed beyond compare.

She does, however, lower her hand from his shoulder, pulling it back to hold against her own chest, as if in doing so she can somehow prevent herself from reaching out to touch him again. And in response to his words, she nods— She has lots of questions, if she's honest, but they're things she probably shouldn't ask, things that aren't her business no matter which way she looks at it.

Instead, she smiles her amusement, responds openly to the joke he's making. ]

If it makes you feel better, even saying it once was too much for me. I gagged a little and everything. [ It's an exaggeration, but it's designed to make him laugh, to keep the atmosphere light despite the fact that they're wrapped up in one another like lovers, that they're sharing intimate truths that they wouldn't dare to tell other people.

(At least, she wouldn't. She can't confirm that the same is true for him, not really.) ]

The other side of it is suffocating too. [ The admission comes after a moment or two, her smile turning a little awkward now. A pause, and she sighs. ] People love you without knowing who you are. And they hate me in the same way.

[ The urge is there, to touch his shoulder again, but she keeps it back, keeps her hand firmly against her chest. ]

Honestly... I made the mistake of judging you without knowing you, too.

(It did seem to help him relax more despite himself. His own bladework was often times considered in a sense graceful yet remarkably wild like fire; if she did somehow manage to see him after this performing his work by clearing out the Order then he'd have to leave quickly. Of course that being if he gets caught and if she does in fact stay around.

He'd have to make certain she doesn't notice the mop of red hair if she intends to go forward with her own mission in the end once everything has settled. Though for now that's the furthest from his mind. He'll either way if she does somehow show him her dance commit that to memory.

Without being odd about it anyway.)

I thought so. Although I'd think that it's best to not hear that from you regardless. (After all, he would rather not be called Master Diluc by her nor was he comfortable with her doing it after realizing he preferred her not doing so. He had her held in a way most women would kill for, this he knew.

Yet they wouldn't be able to hear these things from him either. He wouldn't speak of all to anyone; only they would know these conversations and originally he wholeheartedly intended to not share but found himself deciding perhaps he should in the end.)

I've noticed. Though I dare say we both are guilty of that despite ourselves even if I said I didn't hate you for your family or your reputation. (Another intimate detail going out for her to hear then. As if that comfort of them not speaking helped a little more.)

... for what it's worth I did keep aloof due to our similarities being strong enough that I worried we'd be at one each other's throats more. (And he held no wish to worsen her life either.) I was more worried that I might make things worse on you by doing that knowing how they viewed me.

(And... it is a small worry given that she has more than enough on her shoulders that can give progressively worse if they got caught fighting.) As strange as it sounds I would have still hid any of it happening since not everyone has to like me or get along with me, but, I would not have wanted that backlash to fall on you. (Though he did seem to be more comfortable in holding her now.)

[ She smiles at his words, although it's not a happy smile— rather, it's wry, full of frustration despite being an expression usually reserved for joy. Once, when asked about the vintner, she complained to the Traveler about him being painfully aloof; yet here he is, giving not only reason for it, but good reason, leaving her with the knowledge that she's avoided someone thoughtful and kind— someone whose companionship she genuinely doesn't mind right now— for something entirely unfair.

It's yet another mark against him. If he's not careful, he's going to end up on said Traveler's level, and that would be bad for them both.

So she shakes her head, her expression hopefully as severe as she's aiming for. ]

I don't need your protection. [ The words aren't angry, not like they were when she practically yelled at him about not needing his food. ] I have long learned to take care of myself regardless of how I am viewed by the general populace. [ And while their thoughts toward her may certainly darken, if they were to learn of her previous irritation toward him, or the situation in which they find themselves now, the people of Mondstadt can't really treat her much worse than they do already.

That doesn't mean she won't keep this a secret, though. Even if she hadn't already promised, she has no interest in people learning more about her— or worse, seeing her in some way as weak.

But that is not something she is interested in getting into. So, a change of subject is needed: ]

So tell me, Ragnvindr: what are these selfish reasons of which you spoke?

Then it's clear to me that it's fine enough for you to visit the Angel's Share, though please do be mindful of the bards there or if you spot anything unusual such as Sister Rosaria deciding to drink there.

(As usual she does confuse him. Though his expression shifted, almost as if the life was gone in it and he had been reminded once more of what he cannot dare tell her with such ease. He was quiet, thoughtful despite it. A tired expression that seemed almost as if he were wondering if he would be okay in the end knowing what he must do and what must be sacrificed.

His life had been spent for the last few years chasing this goal and yet he still cannot be open about it. His father's killers brought to justice and the end of not only the Harbingers but the Abyss Order; she wasn't ready he thought to know the truth.

He wasn't certain if she would care to know despite what she was saying even as he looked to the floor with a sense of vulnerability that he despised showing to her so openly. Instead of an uncrowned king he near looked like a tired one.)

... is it wrong of me to say that I cannot answer it fully aside from part of it centering around my father's death?

(And Crepus dying did in fact spread throughout the land, but not the truth. It was why for once that tired expression he had shown briefly shifted into something darker, a glower, his heat intensifying at the thought of it again. No matter how long it had been it still hangs over him.)

The thought of it being swept away as if he meant nothing, the thought of my pleas being ignored when I tried to beg them to find the truth...

(Then later finding out from Jean and Kaeya both that Eroch was attempting to join the Fatui... all of it made him sick, made him angry by the heat that was building up from his body. But it was only after he reminded himself that she was there, her element was opposing his, and that it would make her more uncomfortable due to that did it stop.

Like nothing was there again, as if that side of him that would always be angry had faded back into his usual.)

... I'll leave you with this despite not saying it, the Fatui have attempted to kill me multiple times, let this sink in since you can't say a word either. If you're so incline to know further, ask Kaeya.

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