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Diluc was never one that understood art,
Yes, some artworks look nice and can liven up the room and can even be a conversation starter if it peaks one interest high enough, and the materials used to make the work has to be sourced for the art then sold to make a profit. It's just a transaction of one individual creativity to fill the ego of an affluent art collector and so on.
Diluc has no means to try and understand art as anything else, hell, he doesn't even understand why people like the taste of alcohol so much, and he owns a famous winery.
You don't need to understand as long as you know you can profit well from it, this is what Diluc has come to believe.
"Geez, this place is so old-timey," Venti hicced as he wagers the bartender for another glass, a goofy smile plasters his face as the redhead relents.
"What does that even mean," Diluc frowns, though in hindsight nothing good comes out of talking to a drunk person.
Venti swirls around the glass of wine in his hand before downing it all like his life depended on it, giving a cheerful hic as he places the glass atop the table and glancing at Diluc for another pour, "I'm saying that the restaurant down the street looks more lived in then this 17th-century bar," he grins, tapping on the table with his finger as his mind grows numb.
Diluc just grabs the glass and turns away, Venti grabbing his hand out with pleading in his eyes, "Good Hunter is a recent restaurant, but it can't compare to a tavern with history," Diluc sighs, placing the wine glass into a sink for him to wash up later, "this is how my father left this tavern, so I plan to keep it this way in accordance to his wishes," Diluc grabs a dampen towel as he wipes down the counter where Venti is occupying, his other hand taking out the tab for his alcoholic friend to look over.
Venti furrows his brow and hics, "Yeah yeah, I know a thing or two about respecting dead people," Diluc raises an eye to that, "but, like, you're only young and alive once, it's not bad to change things up a bit," Venti shrugs, rummaging through his pants to pay off the tab.
Diluc thought about it for a moment, looking around the tavern where only regulars reside in the corners to hide out and blackout drunk. Diluc barely put much thought into the tavern, especially since he leaves it to Charles to tend to customers, but it is starting to feel worn down and out of place in this day and age.
One can only hold on to nostalgia for so long.
Rubbing his forehead as he grumbles, sighing until once against giving in to Venti's words, "Alright, it's not like I don't have extra money sitting around to fix the place up,"
"That's the spirit!" Venti hollered as he clapped, before slowing down to lean across the counter with a nervous grin, "and on the topic of money, I seem to have forgotten my wallet," drunkenly chuckling as if it were amusing.
Fortunately, Diluc shook his head as he took the tab to add onto the total, "This is the last time," he bluffs, Venti smiling knowing the redhead will let it slide once again because of his kind nature.
"Awe, Diluc, you're so kind to widdle 'ol me! How about another dandelion wine to celebrate our friendship-!"
"Don't push it."
"Modern art," Diluc questioned himself as he walked around artworks for sale to find anything that could be hung on his wall, but nothing interested him in the slightest, "what even is a modern artwork?" he grows frustrated the more he works he passes by, each becoming more confusing than the last and being sold far too high than he deems worthy of.
Diluc continues to find things he didn't like or were a fan of in the art world; anything abstract, anything too pop culture, any that were dated, not touching surrealism, hate metalworks that is junk melted together, and absolutely no vorticism art. Genres and subgenres of art that Diluc took no interest in began to pile up, to the point that his legs and mind were going to give out if he sees another confusing display again.
This was beginning to take a toll on him to the point Diluc rested against a wall to get his mind straight, deciding to just choose any one painting and get out of here to hang on the wall. Lifting his head with his eyes shut, he opens them to see what the next display is, only to find a rather mundane painting of a snowy mountain.
It wasn't elaborate nor had a lot of colours, nor was the canvas itself very grand. Just about small enough to have been drawn by a human being, but barely. The work itself isn't detailed and frankly mountains aren't an interesting landscape to draw about, but dammit if this is the only art that won't cause Diluc to implode on himself then he is going to buy it and leave.
"How much is this?" Diluc points at the snowy mountains landscape, staring at a worker to help him out.
Blonde hair and braided hair tied back into a ponytail, the shorter man lift his glasses to look at Diluc then the painting, "This painting," raising his hand over his chin to contemplate though his face was near expressionless, "doesn't seem to be your liking, sir," he tilts his head as if trying to read the other.
"Does it matter if I like it or not," Diluc frowns, uninterested in looking at anything more.
The blonde looks up to meet Diluc's hawk eyes, teal eyes seeming cold as it dissects at Diluc's words, "Are you perhaps an art collector?" he asks, though his brows twinge slightly as if uncomfortable.
Diluc coughed, growing exasperated, "Not in the slightest," he holds his head as he looks at the name of the painting. 'What Remains of Brother Durin by Kreidprinz'. What a strange name, both the artwork and artist.
The blonde hums softly, rubbing his chin as he nods in thought, "... five thousand,"
Diluc turns back to the painting and squints at it, "Just five thousand?"
"Too high?"
The redhead shook his head, "No, looking back at it I'd say it's around the worth," Diluc nods, turning away as he gestures the blonde worker to follow him, "show me to the way of the help desk," his movement rather fast as he wants to get out of here as soon as possible once he pays for the painting.
The 'worker' blinks before following the other, picking up his pace to match the stranger's stride.
The painting was paid for and shipped to the tavern, Diluc deciding to put it at the opposite wall from the countertop to fill in the empty space. As he took a step back to see if it is straightened enough, he noticed that under the chandelier light the paint became a whole new colour compared to the dim sterile lights from the art walk. He tilted his body, uncharacteristically of him to be curious, seeing that what he saw was dull grey paint would glint silver one way and specks of crimson the other.
He squinted closer to the painting, trying to figure out how the paint was able to do that and if that would be a health hazard in any way.
"It seems the paint has starsilver and crimson quartz crushed into it," Diluc immediately called in an expert to look into his purchase, the taller slender figure rose up after inspecting the image.
"I see," Diluc grimaced, "I presumed this painting was just another ordinary bland landscape, I couldn't imagine that it would-" he was growing infuriated at his inadequacy before being cut off by the Liyuen's golden eyes.
"It wouldn't cause harm to anyone," he remarks, straightening his back as he shuts his eyes, recollecting his thoughts, "it's unique, but starsilver can be used to make paint just to give it an illustrious shine to it. The ore itself isn't hard to gather, but finding ones that don't lose their shine once it turns to paint is quite an arduous process," he opens his eyes before turning back to the painting, growing thoughtful of it, "When crimson quartz is freshly mined, it emanates warmth easily, which is what I suppose this painting is trying to replicate. Cold silver one way, and warm crimson the other."
Diluc furrowed his brows the more he hears this, coming to terms that the paint may not be an irritant as he assumed it was, "You say this painting uses a very unique painting style, knowing this, what would be the worth of this painting?" he began to prod, growing more curious.
The dressed Liyuen looked at the painting then back at Diluc, gesturing his hand to the canvas, "Since the ores can only be sourced in Dragonspine, and it takes a dedicated and skilled person to know how to turn those ores into paint mixtures without losing its lustre, I'd presume that this painting would... mayhaps 150,000." he puts his hand over his chin as if to think it over, "175,000 due to inflation rates, give or take."
Diluc jumped back, stunned by the number. That worker said this piece was worth only five thousand! Were they both fooled by how bland the portrait was this whole time? It can't be helped that Diluc has no interest nor care for anything art related either. He turns away, thinking over how a rather interesting yet mundane piece managed to get in his hands as just another decor.
"Since you don't seem too keen on this painting, I wouldn't mind taking it from you," the man smiled.
"I suppose I will keep it for the time being," Diluc huffed, growing intrigued the more he learns about the painting.
"I see," the man nods, til a sound of ancient orchestral numbers filled the room that Diluc never heard of. The man fumbles with his pocket to reveal it to be his phone, "ah, if there is nothing else, I will head off." he turns away, accepting the phone call and Diluc overhearing the person on the line.
"Zhongli!" the person sounded exasperated from the phone, "For the last time, you're a funeral consultant, not a volunteer worker! Stop leaving me last minute notes that you are going to help people!" Diluc couldn't tell if the person, Zhongli, knew how to turn the speaker off or not. The man seems to be more ancient than he looks.
"I apologize, Miss Hu, but I know you are plenty capable of tending to the matters of the parlour yourself," Zhongli seems apologetic as he makes his way towards the exit.
"Flattery won't get you anywhere," Miss Hu groans, though her tone seems to lighten by the words anyway, "it's hard finding people interested to work in the parlour so you disappearing is..." Diluc drones off from listening to the call as he takes another look at the painting. He is certain that the quartz used in it has long worn off its effects, but he swears he can feel the warmth coming from the canvas of the snowy white mountains. He was starting to grow fond of the work.
"Ah, before I leave," Zhongli fwips his head, his ponytail wagging behind as he opens the door to make his exit, "what is the name of that painting?"
Diluc paused, the blonde worker from the museum coming to mind, "What Remains of Brother Durin by Kreideprinz," he recalls, though shrugs, "whatever that means."