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He comes to her when all has fallen into deep slumber. She looks different now, older than he remembers, and it makes him wonder. How far do dandelions extend their seeds once the wind decides it is time for them to settle down, and how long has it been ever since Jean shouldered the responsibilities of a knight onto her shoulders causing her to become the woman she is today? To Diluc, time is simply an illusion made by the gods, but time staining Jean’s skin seems to be a weapon made from old, painful memories meant to remind them of what they’ve lost in order for them to gain.
It is different now. Mondstadt is very much different. Jean acknowledges his arrival with a simple nod, and he waits. The night only grows deeper with each passing second, and yet none of them proceeds to say a single word. Old memories from years of childlike wonder now burns against their skin. There are ashes staining their fingers, bits of charcoal eating away the edges of their nails. And the more they continue to keep quiet, the more they burn.
But what is there to say now except words of apology caused by grief and neglect? They have grown over the years, grown over the small period of time they lost together. Memories are now burried underneath roots of dandelions scattered across the land, and yet memories still seem to grow the more the wind blows. But they cannot be retrieved now, only remembered.
“Do you need anything, Master Diluc?”
“No, I was just stopping by for the night.”
“Alright.”
What is there to say now except words of apology? Diluc continues to watch her from her office’s entrance, hoping for a way to apologize for nothing, and for everything as well.
The next day, the king decides to bury his crown along with his words that were left unsaid.