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Clouds roll in on winds that howl like the epitome of Wolvendom brought to life, obscuring the sun in the shadows of each. The young master watches, adjusting his gloves out of nonsensical habit, as the figure of a woman sits idly at the edge of the forested area beyond his property line; she must be collecting wolfhook, he thinks, as her basket fills with each dainty thing that she plucks from nearby.
Hair whisping into the breeze as the weather readies itself to shift to a spring Mondstadt rain, Diluc straightens up to keep a better eye on the dame that may need shelter soon. He sees her flick one of her freshly picked snacks into the air, high and free and snatched by the wind, before stepping back as his bird swoops in to catch it in beak, happily crunching the sweet treat down. His startled state is short lived; however, and he behind the marched trek down to the stranger and his feathered friend.
Getting closer, both he and the weather attempt to make themselves known at the same time. The sound of clapping thunder startles his sweet bird, and he moves to attempt to call to her again, to soothe her and warn away the woman from frightened sharp talons. The woman only coos at the darling little being in front of her, and Diluc can only watch as she strokes over the trembling bird, who tucks herself as best she can into the waiting hands of her new favorite friend. Trembling calming with each pass of hands made for baking and gardening and loving and care, the bird chitters away contentedly as her master picks his way through the brambles toward them.
A branch snaps under his foot, intentional, indicating his arrival.
"Oh! Hello there."
Looking from him to the bird in her arms, the woman seems to put two and two together.
"Is she yours? She's so sweet."
Practically cooing as she pets the pleased bundle of feathers that has taken to cracking open one eye at her handler, smug at the attention and daring him to do something about it (he spoils her, Kaeya had laughed at him for it when they were younger, and now he supposes that will haunt him too), she awaits his answer.
He lets the polite dismissive sound from the back of his throat come forth. Straight forward to the point, he rebukes her observation of sweetness out of concern.
"Sweet? She's being gentle for now, but those talons are too sharp."
"She'll be gentle."
Shaking his head, he sighs, attempting again to convey the dangerous nature of the company she has chosen to keep in the oncoming storm.
"She tends to fly away."
"Fly away?"
"Whenever the mood strikes her, yes. Be careful to not get caught by her wings."
The woman only hums, thoughtful and small in comparison to the bold firmness of his own voice.
"She'll come back, I bet."
He tries another angle.
"She tends to sound angry, the loudness will hurt your ears; some have even called her grumpy. Her screeching scares people."
She looks up at him, standing there, holding his coat above her head to protect them from the dainty droplets beginning to fall from the sky as she pets at his bird still in her arms. The cross look on his face does not phase her.
"I think she sounds darling, if not in need of something nice to drink and a nap."
Blinking once, twice, and the bird finally flutters up to perch at his shoulder awkwardly, leaving a mess of feathers in the woman's lap. She laughs, and Diluc cannot help but crack a short smile at the sound. It really is a lovely tune. His bird plucks at his hair, hiding between the strands of red that cascade around him.
When the thunder rolls yet again, he offers the woman his hand to pull her up. Sudden rain gushes down around them, drenching the both of them beyond what the light drizzle had accomplished before, and he does not think when she grabs his hand and begins to run. Pulling her toward the winery, up the stairs at its front and in through the doors to the entry, their hands stay entwined. The bird screeches a warbled joy from her perch at his back.
Aromas of fresh-cooked foods, baked goods and a lavish meal, waft through from the kitchen. Maids in the process of handing them both towels, to avoid tracking in water and mud on the pristine hardwood floor, Diluc takes the hint that Adelinde gives him through her stern (loving and well-meaning and all-knowing) eyes.
"Would you like to stay for dinner?"
Turning to him, wide eyes at his sudden proposal, the woman hurries to assure him that she is quite alright and that she will be out of his hair in no time at all. The lightning outside cracks, thunder loud enough to rattle the wine bottles on their shelves, and the bird in his hair flies off to perch elsewhere further in the depths of the home. At her nervous look, he insists.
"Please, think nothing of it. The storm outside is too strong to send anyone out into it; wait here until it passes."
Relenting, letting herself be convinced (she wanted to be convinced, the food seemed heavenly and he intrigued her), she took his offered arm yet again and let herself be led to the lavish dinner table. Chatting like old friends, they would find that they got along; sharing stories (or intel, dependent on how one looked at it all) and good food, Diluc felt himself warming in her presence. The outside wind, cold and in his heart, could not permeate the walls of his home with her in it. When he cracks a small smile this time, she catches it, shy and over a forkful of something warm and tasty.
The sounds of their companionable dinner make their way through the kitchen walls, back to where Adelinde is feeding the darling bird with her most prized and masterfully prepared foods, spoiled. Petting at her feathered head before she lets her away to eat, she gives her her deserved praise.
"Well done, my dear. I think she's a keeper."
When Diluc's laugh graces the kitchen for the first time since his youth only moments later, she knows she was right.