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There's a faint smell of oak tree and mist the moment Diluc sets foot outside the winery. It is a normal night of spring; the lights around the manor are dim, and the rustle of the endless grapevines, with anemo crystal flies sleeping in their branches. He adjusts his gloves more tightly, feeling the chill of the night creep up on him, even with the heavy coat he wears, and walks in the middle of the vineyards towards the lake.
He used to take this same road with Kaeya when they were children. He remembers the little stumbles his brother took in this road, the games they used to play and the songs Diluc used to sing. They are but memories, something Kaeya would smile at with a cup of wine in his hand, laughing and sprouting a story Diluc has no recollection of.
The man smiles, burying his nose in the high neck of his coat, feeling the cold begin to seep to his face, but he keeps walking at a leisure pace, not worrying about the cold or how late it is.
He finally reaches the edges of the lake, just below an apple tree, and gazes up at the frozen tundra that is Dragonspine, letting out a sigh that almost freezes his lips. Diluc frowns, as a chill runs down his arms—
“It is quite cold, is it not?” A voice asks, calm and soothing, echoing in the depths of his mind.
Diluc sighs, turning his head to the side, meeting the strange pale blue and reddish eyes of the woman next to him. She regards him with an impassive expression, her blonde hair dancing with the small and cold wind.
He frowns at her, “is this your doing?”
“Nights are quite cold near Vindagnyr,” she answers and stays silent for a moment, “You should be used to it by now, since the vineyard is so close to it.”
“Not like this.” Diluc strays his eyes away from her.
She hums, though she makes no physical sound, raising a hand but stopping it before it reaches towards him, “May I?”
The man turns to watch her, looking at her hand with eyes of confusion, “What are you doing?”
“I merely want to check your temperature, of course.” She says, “It is quite strange you feel the cold so deeply. Are you perhaps running a fever?”
Diluc just gently lowers her hand, patting it once before letting go.
“I'm quite alright, thank you.” He watches as she makes a sound akin to a hum of agreement inside his head and turns to look at the peak of Dragonspine, "It's been years since I caught a cold, I might just be sensitive to it today.”
“Hm, if you are quite sure.”
And the silence settles between them, their eyes drawn to the plains of snow, and the few trees and slopes that constitute the landscape of Mondstadt. Small insects are the only thing filling the silence before Diluc breaks it all together.
“Mind I ask what brought you here today?” He inquires, exhaling a cold breath.
“To tell you news.” She moves her hands behind her back, the long dress shifting at the movement. The comment quips his interest.
“About?”
“Your traveler friend departed from Natlan a few days ago.” She says, a small smile settles in her face, turning towards him again. “Their journey through the Nation of War was filled with dangers, but they have proven themselves. Now, Nod Krai awaits their arrival.”
Diluc scowls, unpleasant memories flashing through his mind, and he can almost taste the oil and metal in his mouth by the mention of that region. Nod Krai is small, an autonomous region that borders Natlan and Snezhnaya, but it's a hub filled with Fatui and creatures that only live in that cursed place, but so very different and much more dangerous.
He hears her chuckle softly, too used to bouncing off the voice in his mind to flinch in surprise. “Why are you frowning?”
He crosses his arms above his chest, sighing, his hands feeling heavy and frigid for some reason, “That place is crawling with Fatui and The Wild Hunt. They will face dangers they have not seen before. As their friend, it's natural for me to worry.”
“We will have to see what fate has for them in Nod Krai.” She comments, a wistful expression crossing her face, “But you have trust in them, no?”
“Of course,” comes the gruff answer, furrowing his brows, almost indignant at the question.
“Then I see no reason to worry.” She replies, tilting her head to the side, amusement painting the corners of her face.
Diluc sighs once more, feeling the cold even more deeply than before, and rubs his arms in an attempt to ward away the freezing feeling. Nod Krai is cold, but it does not compare to Snezhnaya' snow which is brutal and unforgiving, and he almost feels like he is back there; cold, hungry and alone. The numbness of his fingers and his breathing is freezing the air — all of it so strange in a spring night, far away from Dragonspine.
“Oh.”
Diluc turns his head towards her, his lips beginning to tremble. Her face shows no visible emotion, as she rests a hand in his arm and Diluc feels a pulse of something travel through him, before he feels the cold start to dissipate from every limb in his body.
He exhales, letting the warm wash over him, before he examines her face.
“I apologize.” She says first before Diluc can ask anything. She looks hesitant as she withdraws her hand from him. “It seems the cold was of my own doing and affected you so.”
Diluc opens his mouth but closes it just as fast, thinking about what to say. But she beats him to it.
“It's—” she hesitates, pensive in what to say, and it is strange to see her hesitant in any way that Diluc dares not to interrupt her. “It seems I got ahead of myself and got excited.”
Her face doesn't twist in an awkward expression, but her eyes don't really meet his, as she settles them in a part of his neck. He swallows dry, letting her gather her words.
“I have been wanting to see you and didn't realize that my element had enveloped you in that excitement. I'm sorry.” She settles with that and shifts her eyes up to his face, and there's only a gentle resignation in her eyes.
Diluc stares, before moving his gaze away from her, settling in the calm waters of the lake just a few steps away from them. Looking at her in the eyes feels far too much sometimes — she conveys so much that Diluc feels at loss for words when facing her, and other times, she is so vague, twisting herself into her words that it is hard to keep up with what she means.
He sometimes wonders how his father faced her for many years before he was born, and what he talked about with her. For him, it's difficult to even make eye contact.
Diluc sighs quietly, having nothing to say, “It's okay.”
She says nothing in return, but he can feel her stare burn the side of his head. He turns towards her and a small smile settles in her face, albeit a bit uncertain.
“You remind me of him.” She tells him, and Diluc lets her, even if sadness settles heavy in his heart at the admission. “When you are deep in thought, you pout a little bit, and Crepus used to do that too.” She giggles softly, “Quite cute if you ask me.”
“I'm not cute.” He says, glaring at her, but she only smiles, ignoring his reply. She turns her head towards the sky this time, sighing quietly, and Diluc does the same.
Faintly, he spots Kaeya's constellation in the night sky and, a little far away, his own constellation. Crepus had taught them, in a sky like this so very long ago, how to travel using their own constellations and each other's as well, but other times, he used to tell them stories about the stars, of angels and the moon. He wore a face that Diluc couldn't describe until he was much older and worn out; it was one of melancholy and sadness.
He didn't understand why until he met her again in the ruthless snow of Nod Krai.
“Do you miss him?” He dares to ask, whispered, content to let the wind whisk it away. He tears his eyes away from the firmament and settles them on her.
The small bell attached to her braid tinkles with the wind, as she smiles, her eyes never leaving the skies and shining brightly even at night.
“Just like the stars I used to dance with.”
A knot grows in the base of Diluc's throat, and he almost wishes Crepus was here, to fill in the blanks between them and their silence. He wishes he was here, even if he stared at her most of the time — Diluc didn't care, as long as he stayed.
“Why didn't you stay then?” He asks, voice rough, and he doesn't know who he is asking this to. To the woman in front of him, yearning for something lost or the man long dead by his hands.
She stops focusing on the stars and looks at him for a long moment, before she lifts her hands and cups his face gently. She's cold, her nails that catch in the stray hairs even more so, still she holds his face like one would hold something delicate.
“It wasn’t the time for me to stay, and your father knew that.” She replies, blonde hair —so different from his dull and messy red hair, with fried and split ends— swaying with the wind. She passes a thumb underneath his eye, apologetic, even if she tried to conceal it beneath it all. “I'm sorry I didn't, my dawn.”
The admission has his heart churning painfully, in a way that Diluc hasn't felt in a long time. He finds himself yearning to be underneath his father's blanket like he used to do when he was a child, so he could feel his warmth and the smell of his cologne when Crepus was away. And in some way, with his face cradled in between cold and delicate fingers, he feels the same.
His dreams, thoughts and secrets seem to be bare underneath her gaze, which is older than anything that has grown in Teyvat, but below the glaze of ice, there's a tenderness that resembles one of a dying man. It is much too painful and awfully comforting to even begin to describe. Though, it is far too short-lived to decipher it.
She steps away from him, before he convinces himself to burrow in the cold of her embrace, feeling her fingertips slide away from his face. He opens his eyes, not knowing when he had closed them, and watches her step away with light footsteps, until the distance is far too great for him not to feel the cold her presence emanates.
“It is almost dusk.” She says, and stares at him, serene but melancholic. The distance between them abruptly reminds Diluc of what they both are and what roles they are meant to play. “The winery awaits your return.”
His gaze shifts to his feet, eyes burning, before inclining his head. He tucks his heart back and straightens himself, clearing his throat.
“Thank you for bringing me this news. I'll be sure to send the traveler my well-wishes in my next letter, miss Nicole.” He says, perfectly recited and to the point. Diluc aches still, but he ignores it, staring directly at her. He opens his mouth, “please, take care of yourself.”
Nicole —feels even weird to say her name— inclines her head, though her lips press in a tight line, “And I thank you for taking the time to listen, Master Diluc. I will take my leave then.”
But she stops herself from leaving. The dusk is settling in the horizon, making her look brighter and so out of this world, but almost belonging as well. Nicole manages a small smile and her mouth opens, saying with her own voice, “May the new dusk bring you a sweet and pleasant day, my dawn.”
She disappears then, taking her voice and presence away in a patch of snowflakes that are carried away by the winds, back to Dragonspine where they belong. Diluc, with his heart twisted and a knot in his throat, watches them swirl with the morning sun and stays there until they are but spectacles in the distance, knowing he wouldn't be able to catch them if he tried.