Chapter Text
He thinks it must be near 3am, the smell of sweat and blood is drenched through his clothes. The moon is high in the sky, and his joints aching, while his claymore digs into his back from where it is strapped against him. Tonight was more taxing than it often is, his underground network tipping him off with more than usual levels of abyssal activity outside the city lately. He doesn’t even think he can call the events of the night lucky; he knows he almost barely scraped his way out. The sudden appearance of the trio of abyss lectors was unexpected after already spending hours defeating wave after wave of mages and rifthounds. The heavy drag of his boots slows once he nears the side gate of the city, having to drop off the documents he stole from the Order at the stairs of the Knights. He hates helping the organization in any fashion, but if it means protecting Jean and Kaeya from the onslaught he experienced tonight, he would do it again and again.
It’s like his body knows, as soon as he crosses the threshold into the city, the adrenaline starts to wean from hours of swinging his claymore and wielding his flames. He can feel the exhaustion soaking through him, the ache deep in his joints. He’s limping now, trudging up the stairs. Knows these injuries are worse than he thought, knows he’ll catch hell from Adelinde when he asks for her help like he always does, knows that no matter the damage he will do it all again once the moon rises tomorrow.
He’s making his way back towards the gate, on his way out of the city back to Dawn Winery when he lifts his tired head and stops short. Looking up, he sees someone standing in front of their apartment, on the terrace looking up at the moon. He wonders why anyone would be awake and outside around this time, especially in their bed clothes. The figure has bright blonde hair sprawling down their back. He fears for a moment it could be Jean, he would really rather not be caught in the state he is in, definitely not by her. Diluc shrinks back into the shadows a bit more, trying to continue on his path.
As he nears, he sees the stature of the figure is too small for Jean, the delicate nightgown with all its frills and loose cuffs not something he would imagine the knight would adorn herself in. The person, the girl, he can see more clearly now, is so tiny. Her hair looks soft, warm tones cascading in waves behind her while she gazes up at the moon. It’s full tonight, bright and brilliant to the point he is weary it will illuminate too much and have him be seen. He’s stopped again, didn’t realize he ever did, paused the closer he drew, to admire the figure, mirroring the way she’s admiring the moon.
A sharp pain shoots through his limbs, wracking his body with a shiver from it, he shifts much too sharply causing the chains strung from shoulder to shoulder across the back of his coat to rattle and clatter loudly in the quiet of the night. It’s too late, but he still attempts to retreat, taking a step backwards, almost tripping on the cobblestone in his haste. The little blonde head whips around in his direction, meeting him with big blue eyes and an angel-like face contorting from shock to concern instantly upon seeing the state of him. They aren’t too far apart now, the distance short enough he could see the lines crinkling her delicate face from an expression of worry.
“M—Master Diluc?” He freezes. “Master Diluc.. oh, Archons above! Master Diluc, are you unwell?” The girl says with so much urgency it reminds him of a hummingbird; words falling from her mouth at the speed with which the tiny bird’s wings would flutter.
Diluc can’t decide if he’s thankful it’s not Jean or any civilian, equal pangs of relief and nerves striking through him to see it’s the Deaconess. He notices, she’s not wearing shoes. Her pristine and bare feet touching the dirty ground in lieu of her worry for him. Something about it, pulls a feeling of guilt from within him. Having seemingly seen enough to confirm it’s him, she rushes over now, coming up short once she fully sees the state of him. Her hands rise in tiny fists, loosely by her sides, not sure if she should reach out so quickly, not wanting to cause more harm, hesitating in the air more for a moment while her eyes flit around from area to area of his body taking in his injuries.
He can’t move, doesn’t know why in the moment he feels frozen, his boots like lead weights rooting him in his spot in front of her. Any thoughts in his mind came to a screeching halt the moment she noticed him, he isn’t sure why he hasn’t turned to leap into the shadows once more, or climbed a wall to escape across the roofs like he’s done all night. Perhaps he’s too tired, perhaps the exhaustion has finally soaked through to his bones, the combat from tonight finally becoming too much.. Or perhaps it’s the look on her face. Her pretty doll-like features contorted into worry and fear— for him he realizes, fear for him, and he can’t stand such a look on such a soft face. It is after all, what he spends his time in secret, in the night, protecting Mondstadt for. Protects it so no one so gentle, so warm, should ever feel the cold or terror from those who wish to destroy the freedom of their city.
“Master Diluc, can you hear me?” Her voice feels like cool and cleansing water washing over him. It grounds him back into the moment, his eyes refocusing back into clarity upon her face where she’s staring right back at him. The girl’s hands have unclenched themselves, starting to reach for the arm he is holding to his side, a deep, angry red gash torn through his sleeve and skin, bleeding from where an abyss lector wielding electro energy swiped his side while he was ambushed from behind.
Slowly, her hand comes to touch his arm so gently, so softly it’s barely there at all. “Master Diluc, please.. this needs attention immediately.” His breath rattles through his chest. “Please come in, let me heal you and tend to these wounds. You need rest.” Her voice is small, so quiet from concern, speaking to him as if he were a cornered animal, ready to run at any moment. He shifts his weight to both feet now, grunting harshly when the movement jostles his limbs, causing a pang of pain to circulate through him. He looks down to her soft grip around his wrist, she shifts it, holding his wrist now in both of her hands, one arm of his filling them entirely. Once again finding himself noticing just how small of a woman she is, and filling him with a feeling of guilt, unworthy of her gentleness and care.
He considers leaving again, telling her it’s okay, placating her concern with lies. He mustn’t let anyone know what kind of business a vigilante gets up to in the night. Mustn’t spoil the happiness and innocence of the world she knows.
But he can’t help himself from looking up again, in the clear blue of her eyes— it reminds him of being a child, of looking into Kaeya’s eyes when he would cry, how he would comfort him, his arms around small shoulders, looking into blue eyes rimmed with red. The reminder, once again, of all he works to keep safe, to protect. It feels as if it’s this, reflected in her sweet face, that breaks him. He relents. Unable to reply with his words, he nods stiffly with a grunt of pain and shifts his eyes away. The weight of her stare suddenly feels too heavy upon his tired shoulders.
Taking a step backwards, she speaks. “Good.. thank you..” a moment of pause, as if she’s assessing him once more— or building up her own confidence, he isn’t sure. “Just.. just come inside and I can help you.” He follows on stiff and tired legs, the distance is short, but she never rushes him, stepping gently, the little slaps of her bare feet against the stone are barely audible. Gingerly and carefully, she helps him up the stairs and onto her terrace. Turning from him only when she needs to open the door to her home, the warmth and crackling scent of a lit hearth instantly meeting his senses.