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Maybe the world was somewhat smaller than she thought when she first set out to find the drink that will destroy the wine industry. Diona's been walking down a very narrow path for a few hours now. She didn't exactly know where she was. She assumed she hadn't gone too far off of the soil of Mondstadt in her search for ingredients, but none of the surrounding trees seemed familiar to her. However, she wasn't afraid of her fate. In fact, she couldn't fear anything, because she was on this specific quest. She, under no circumstances, was allowed to fail this time.
The only prevalent thing on her mind was her father, whom she knew would get ridiculously drunk if she wasn't there. She wondered if he would do something stupid again, like go out during a rainstorm in the middle of the night, because he was cold and suddenly remembered that lightning was a source of warmth. He truly became an idiot when he drank; it's all the alcohol's fault! It's why the wine industry needed to be annihilated as soon as possible!
The crunching sound of the branches she stepped on while walking was her only source of familiarity within this environment. Even as the trees got scarcer, she marched on with a ferociousness, not unlike those of her Kätzlein ancestors when they hunted. She didn't really notice when she found herself in the desert, but that was the moment that she started to panic. Jumping up and down in order to shake some of it that fell into her shoes, she realised that Mondstadt doesn't contain any deserts in its topography.
Finally paying closer attention to the passage of time, the sun was already close to setting. Was a desert really a day's walk away from Springvale? Did she just walk around for a few days and not even notice the multiple days that have passed? The sand was like a sea around her; not unlike the Cider Lake surrounded Mondstadt.
As if on cue, her legs gave out due to the enormous stress they have been put under. Someone of her stature already has trouble travelling normally to a neighbouring nation; much more the middle of nowhere. She hoped that she wouldn't be burned too much by the sun, for it was at its strongest at this time. Of course, Diona knew she was very much so done for, if she didn't move away herself. Nobody would randomly just be in a desert, as she was. Even tinier was the likelihood of it being someone with survival experience tied to the desert.
Forcing her arms to drag herself across the sand, she cursed at the wine industry in her head, for pushing her to such lengths in order to be destroyed. Now all this sand was in all of the pockets in her outfit, not to mention right underneath it, rubbing against her skin like sandpaper. She figured that's why it was called sandpaper; because all of the smallest rocks could cause a lot of destruction if they unified in such a simultaneous and structured attack.
Ah, what she wouldn't give to have the Spring Fairy here to guide her. But there was no water, so it would seem unlikely that such a fantasy would turn into reality anytime soon.
Her desperate movements only caused more irritation and slowed her down, to the point where she could not move anymore, and promptly gave up trying. Her stubbornness had failed her this time as well, it seemed, because even if her fat tears rolled over her cheeks to hit the sand, she did not understand to think clearly about her situation. Her hunger, her thirst, her entire body was screaming for her to stop long before this, but she did not listen. No matter what was given to her, she had forsaken it all for the singular goal of destroying the one thing that brought her father down from his pedestal in her mind.
She still cared about the wine industry, she still prayed to be saved, even if she was wasting tears, and her tail and ears were overheating due to the heat. She still wanted to see those drunkards humiliated, she wanted to believe that there was justice in this world, but most of all, she wanted her father to never be such an idiot ever again.
She didn't want to worry about him putting himself in danger, her taking care of him when he was hungover, or any of the other things he did when he was drunk. He loved her, he did. He said he did. But he was scary when he was drunk. He got angry at her fast. He threw things around carelessly when he was drunk, and it was up to Diona to fix such broken things. Her mother was gone, after all, and she was the sole heiress of the Kätzlein name. The longest-running family in the history of Mondstadt; there ever since the first humans have tread upon this earth, there when the first Archons arrived. There before there even was a name for the region they lived in, when they only called it "Erd"; they survived through everything, and so did she.
The pride her father carried along with the name was long gone, especially after her mother died. Diona, however, swore that she would make him hope again. That he would finally be able to look at her with those caring eyes that he always had, even if he got drunk. Though, she knew that was impossible, with how he was.
So, she was afraid that if she wasn't able to destroy the wine industry in time, there would come a moment where he realised that she was worth less than nothing.
If there ever came another situation where he would get drunk again, and his mindset would stay even after he sobered up, she was scared of the consequences. She was small by nature, she was easily spotted by the prey they hunted because of her fur. There were so many mistakes with her; hell, she couldn't even mess up one drink when she wanted to. She failed at failing on purpose, which felt a lot worse than doing your best and having it fall through. He would never look at her again; she would be thrown out on the streets, like the stray cats running through Mondstadt.
The sun was blaring on her back. Her tail was twitching again, for the 15th time in the past 30 minutes (if it had even been that long), that it needed to be tucked underneath her. Yet she couldn't move. Her eyesight was blurry at best, and with how many tears she shed, she wasn't surprised by the parchedness of her tongue. Great, now even her own body was turning into sandpaper. Yuck.
She couldn't die here though, she needed to survive. She had her family to take care of, she needed to get married and continue the Kätzlein line, she had to instil jealousy into all those around her in order to make sure her Daddy still loved her. God, she even missed talking it out with Razor that one time, even if they fought as cats and dogs do.
She missed playing with Klee out in the fields, going fishbombing from time to time, even if they got scolded by Jean and Diluc afterwards. Diona hated the aforementioned man so much, but now, she wouldn't mind him swooping in to save the day again. She would have been a fool, not to notice the flaming red hair behind the masks the man wore on his missions at night. Especially with her enhanced vision in the dark; she would have not lived up to the Kätzlein name, had she missed such details.
Ragnvindr really had a feel for heroics, she thought. It made sense, given that Alberich had a feel for theatrics. They were brothers, no matter how far apart they grew, or how much time divided them.
She was not dumb; she didn't only focus on destroying the wine industry. Both of them were crucial to her plan in order to destroy it, but-!
Ah well, it didn't really matter now, did it? Any musings of hers would be lost to the sand in the hourglass. Bygone time; time she was all too much aware she was running out of. If this was the end, then why did it have to be such a dumb way to die? She could have died in a battle or something, any hilichurl blow would be more welcome than her frying in the sun. Didn't Celestia or the Archons bless her with a vision? Did they have to choose such a cruel fate for her puny existence?
If they already acknowledged her, then why punish her like this? Didn't she prove her worth to them , if not her father or the rest of Mondstadt, at least?
She didn't care that her throat felt like there was something clawing on the inside of it, nor about the fact that there was nobody out there to hear anything she might have to say about this. Diona screamed. She screamed louder than she imagined the howling winds of the storm were like, louder than the dandelion knight when she went to war, louder than the terrifying growl of Durin. She cursed the heavens, the wine industry, herself, Barbatos, who was never by her side when she prayed for him to abolish the senseless drinking. She cursed and screamed louder than she thought even Abyss Mages would scream if they were tortured, using all of her remaining energy to kick the sand underneath her.
The blasted sand that eroded her smooth skin she was gifted by the Spring Fairy, the only one that truly cared about her opinion, even if she did things that hurt Diona.
Even if her blessings were a curse that Diona needed to bear for the rest of her life; at least the Spring Fairy cared.
No tears left her eyes as she did this. It felt the tiniest flicker of the flame on a candle before it got blown out; one last attempt to continue breathing. To continue on this journey she so carelessly started without saying goodbye to everyone she loved.
Diona admitted she was foolish. Her clinging to the last shreds of her pride was pathetic, even in this situation where she obviously needed help. She admitted to her sins, but was it truly so black and white? Was she honestly the one that needed to repent after all this time of her trying her hardest?
She was sorry, if it even mattered.
She was sorry for all the times she blew up at her sober father for even mentioning alcohol around her. She was sorry for hissing at Razor, who only came by to pick Klee up that one time. She was sorry she paid close attention to Master Diluc and all of his associates from afar, without them noticing. She was sorry she had one too many times been tempted to spread the secret of him being the Darknight hero. She was sorry she wanted to destroy his livelihood to the ground so he would never be able to sell anything again to her father. She was sorry that she cursed Barbatos out, when she knew that he probably didn't want to hurt everyone else by taking a bit of their culture away, simply because a small child begged him to. She was sorry for thinking the worst of everyone, she was sorry for never allowing anyone to come closer and help her.
She was sorry, but that wasn't enough.
As the sand provided her a soft bed, the small cat curled up as she used to when she was a child. The blowing winds around her lulled her into a deep slumber, one that she would never wake up from again.
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"Poor child... May the winds soothe your tattered soul; may it blow off the sand stuck to your clothes. Let the hunter's song ring until the end; tales long gone may come alive to this repent."