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Another failure.
With gritted teeth, Diona forces herself not to scratch the metal container as she yet again watches a patron down her newest concoction with unrestrained delight.
"This is amazing! I am thoroughly impressed every time I come here, Miss Diona." Nimrod tips the cup back to swallow another large mouthful. "Angel Share might have the best classics, but Cat's Tail never fails to be creative and refreshing."
Her ears twitch in further irritation at the mention of that damned tavern, with their stupid alcohol and stupid owner and their stupid, fancy winery. Klee's offer to bomb the place down is beginning to look like “Plan A”. Place a Dodoco grenade here, another there, and boom! Her worries would disappear in a giant mushroom cloud.
"Really," he continues, completely oblivious to her violent ponderings. "How did you make such a delicious drink out of… what was it again?"
The mixer in her hand is half-covered in Cryo at this point but Diona does not notice, too busy glaring daggers at Nimrod so he would leave.
She answers in a clipped tone. "Scotch, frog slime, garlic, and milk."
Kaeya, a couple seats away, sputters into his drink.
"Extraordinary! Why, your gifts are wasted here. You should be out there, blessing every tavern in Teyvat with your drinks."
"Thank you, Mr. Nimrod, for your kind words.” Her eyes slide to a window, spotting a familiar light-blonde head starting her evening search for her wine-happy husband. “I don't mean to cut your visit short but I believe I see your wife coming this way."
"Shit." Nimrod swiftly finishes the rest of his drink and scrambles off the stool. He escapes out the back, slamming the door and startling half of the drunken patrons awake with their own curses. The other half stays asleep.
Diona shakes her head. He never learns. She doesn't understand why Eury stays with him. Good thing she made him pay for the drink beforehand, she thinks, as she places his glass into the sink.
"I'd tell him to cut his losses—'happy wife, happy life' and all that but it would be rather hypocritical of me," Kaeya says, grinning when she looks at him.
"Do as I say, not as I do,” Diona remarks back.
He raises his cup in acknowledgement.
At that moment, the front door opens and the cat-shaped bell above twinkles cheerfully. Rosaria walks in, her face drawn in a scowl and looking mildly displeased. The wind rushing into the tavern is slightly chillier than usual, but there are no icicles or sheets of frost on the floor. Diona presumes today must have been a good day for her.
She silently takes her seat next to Kaeya — Diona can't help but notice the way he brightens up, despite how much he would deny it—and orders a Ruby’s Delight with Mora already placed down.
Though Dawn Winery’s Dandelion Wine is and probably will remain the most marketable beverage in Mondstadt, Diona’s newest creation has been fairly popular. In addition to fermented grapes, she added hints of lavender melon. The fruit had been brought back from Inazuma by the Traveler, and when experimenting with it, she discovered it helped to alleviate hangovers in addition to giving the drink a unique sweet but tart flavor. A little something to spite the alcohol industry.
From what she's seen, Diona wonders if Rosaria can even get hangovers anymore.
As Diona pours out the wine into a cup, she sees a small smile forms on Kaeya’s face as Rosaria grumbles about her Sisters at the Church and the absurd duties she was accosted into participating until now.
At least he isn't drowning in his loneliness. She was getting tired of his silent moping and quiet heavy sighs—even if it was bad for business. Regardless, it is good that Rosaria has someone else to complain to. Eula would sometimes join them but she is more often than not with Amber when the Outrider is available.
"The audacity of that Barbatosis-obsessed—"
"It’s actually Barbatos—"
"Barbotoss, whatever—the nerve of her to take away my flask because I'm not practicing enough for the Windblume performance when it is months away. Is it not enough that I'm there in the first place?"
Kaeya laughs. "Miss Barbara is quite dedicated. Her and the Acting Grandmaster certainly are similar in that aspect."
Rosaria waves a dismissive hand. "That energy can be put to better use, say, like learning how to dismem—"
"Right, yes.” Kaeya clears his throat. “There are other more… productive activities, I'm sure, but dear Sister Rosaria, I think you're quite enjoying their company. Your hostility seems to have dwindled these past few months. Or is that all thanks to the little cup in your hand?"
The other Cryo user shoots him an unamused stare, and flatly asks, "And you, Calvary Captain? How is your reconciliation with your dear Ragnvindr brother?"
"Splendid."
“Cheers to that.”
They tap their glass together.
Diona rolls her eyes. They’re so dramatic.
She half-heartedly listens to the rest of their conversation while she cleans, catching snippets here and there (Bennet almost caused a landslide again?) before she is pulled away by an influx of new customers to make their orders.
It was almost tolerable
The hours passed by and eventually, it was almost time to close. Sighing quietly, Diona hops off the stool to gather an armful of cups. Filling them with water from the tap, she goes around the counter and makes her usual round, placing them on the table in front of the customers, gently shaking some of the ones that were still asleep. She returns when she finishes to pass out small bowls of applesauce or various sliced fruits and plates with plain toast, preferences memorized long ago, while occasionally bending down to pet the cats roaming around the tavern and moving them out of the way.
The patrons thank her, their gratitude brushed aside with a flick of her ears, and she takes her place back at the bar, wiping down the surface.
They leave after finishing, trickling out in stumbles and groans but still relatively steady. They’ll be fine. Any issues will be resolved by the Knights patrolling around the city.
Finally, Kaeya and Rosaria, the last two remaining, leave, waving her farewell as they step into the night. Diona has a feeling that they probably aren't going home.
She dries off the utensils and places them on the rack.
Or they might. Who knows. They’re a weird bunch.
After herding the cats back into their beds and locking up for the night, Diona leaves Mondstadt City for home.
Diona isn't sure when it started, or who ordered the Knights to do this, but every time she had an evening shift, a guard would discreetly follow behind her to see that she got back safely. Diona mostly scoffed at the act. She has a Cryo vision. She is one of the best Springvale hunters. And it’s not even that far away! How dare they think she was not capable.
(That last part sounds a little like Eula. Maybe she's been hanging around the Reconnaissance Captain too much.)
But on some nights, she’s glad for the extra presence. Tonight was one of them.
The walk home is short, and she reaches Springvale as she left it this morning: the gentle crashing of the waters; clusters of sweet flowers framing the town's sign; the little fairy pond in front of the only windmill, its blades slowly spinning in the dark skies to welcome her back. In the middle of the pond, the Seelie trills in contentment as she walks past, flickering slightly as it shifts in its pillar. Wistfully, it stands as a remnant of a friend.
There isn't anyone outside anymore, stalls closed and cooking pots put out, but the liveliness is carried into their homes, briefly blanketing her when she steps into the orange glow escaping through their windows. She hears their chatter, bowls and cups clacking against each other to be washed, fires crackling as the smell of dinner wafts through the air. Somewhere north, someone strums a memory from a harp, its melody as beautiful as it is distant.
Meanwhile, there is no light through her windows. It is quiet. Somber.
She unlocks the door, but hesitates in the taut shadows of her house. Turning, she sees that the Knight this time is Sage. She waves at him as a thanks and, after a moment of surprise, he waves back before saluting and walking back to the city.
Crossing the threshold, Diona closes the door behind her. Home sweet home.
Without the brick wall as a barrier, the stench of alcohol hits her full force. Diona wrinkles her nose at the sour smell, and she could almost see a visible trail of it like smoke, all tracing back to the still body near their kitchen. If she didn't have her enhanced hearing, she would have thought he was dead.
Her dad is slumped over their dining table, a bottle held limply in one hand and on the verge of falling off the edge to join the others on the floor. A plate of leftover scraps sits on the small table in front of him, surrounded by more bottles and bits of shredded and crumpled pieces of paper. The pencil he was using has been whittled and reduced to a small nub. The feeble flame from the candle blew out when she opened the door, leaving less than a half a thumb of old wax.
It is one of those nights.
Silently, she takes the plate, discards the bones and cold chunks of bread, and sets it aside to be washed later. The rest of the paper and pencil are tucked back into their box to be shelved away along with the leftover candle.
She loosens her dad's grip on the bottle.
"Dad. Dad, wake up." She shakes him, gently at first, then firmer. "You're going to catch a cold here. And sleeping like this is bad for your back."
He snores.
Diona jabs his side and Draff jolts awake.
"Hnrgh… wha—Diona? When did…you get… home?" His eyes are not even fully open and his words are slurred, but at least he's conscious enough to walk. She tugs him off the chair and, with a look of confusion, he complies, not saying anything except for incoherent mumblings as she slowly brings him to his room.
He's asleep again before his body hits the bed, dead weight flopping onto the mattress as she struggles to wrestle the blanket out under him. She hisses when she almost slips on a flask on her way to the door, restraining herself from kicking it out the window.
Once downstairs, she washes the plate and fork and lightly sweeps the floor. Then, from one of the cabinets, she takes out a scratchy burlap sack dotted with old stains. She begins to carefully put the bottles in it to be properly disposed of.
He’s trying. Diona knows that. Knows how hard it is to cut off alcohol from the body as every part of it burns for more. As a bartender, she's had more than enough first hand encounters. She...appreciates his efforts.
But sometimes, he slips up, and the hours after are the worst. Diona wants to scream herself hoarse because she’s a kid, and she shouldn't have to take care of him while he’s in his drunken sleep, or when he's throwing up his intoxication. Nor should she be the one to clear away his mistake so Diona can avoid his stricken expression that she knows he deserves but hurts too much to look at.
Not that it mattered, she thinks bitterly, then guiltily and bitterly again. No amount of screaming and nagging and chastising worked before.
Diona stares at the bottle in hand. A memory comes back to her.
“Another round for everyone!”
Loud cheers erupted. Diona is sure its echoes reached the city’s wall.
It was a cool night. The air was clear, with hints of lemongrass and evening rain. In the center of the gathering, chunks of boar meat were skewered and roasted over fire under the stars in Springvale. It had been a good hunt and a good harvest season. A cause for celebration.
The blanket her dad wrapped around her shoulder shielded Diona away from the chill, and a cup of apple juice was next to her as she huddled close by his side, listening to her dad and Allan and the rest of the hunters singing rambunctiously about whiskey and bourbon and pretty people.
“Oh Maker’s Mark… you sweet little temptress you.”
Her dad suddenly lifted her up on his shoulders, and Diona laughed as he swayed from side to side. For once in a long time, the lines around his eyes weren’t as heavy.
Despite the festive tone and volume and laughter overlapping their performance, she always thought the song was a little melancholic.
Her grip tightens and she pulls the drawstring harder than necessary, as if the bottles were living, breathing entities that she could choke out then smash behind her house, next to the radishes and carrots, until they couldn’t put themselves back together.
And for one blissful moment, she wouldn't have to worry about them taking her dad away.
He’s trying.
She climbs the stairs to her room. The door creaks, then quietly clicks shut.
The bag remains until the next morning.
“Looks good. This… make sure to cut.”
“This part?”
Razor nods. “In two weeks. Will help it grow again.”
“Alright.” Standing up, Diona brushes off the grass stains on her overall. “Thanks for stopping by to pick the grapes. And for the net.”
“You’re… welcome. Glad I could help,” Razor stiffly responds, but the warmth in his tone is unmistakable. He stands up, too, and stretches, back cracking. He huffs in satisfaction.
Diona hands him a towel but he waves it away. “Do you want some boar? Dad went on a hunt this morning and got extra for you.”
“Really? If…it’s okay?”
“Yeah, of course.” Diona opens the door and they head back inside. Razor lingers by the table while Diona places several grape clusters and baked goods into a basket.
Ever since the incident at Wolvendom, the Hunters, led by Draff, had begun to reduce the numbers of traps used when Traveler explained Razor’s situation. He was understandably cautious when he first met the Hunters, but after talking it through, they mapped out designated trapping places for Razor to warn the wolves. And with encouragement from Lisa, he began to spend more time with the Springvale townspeople, helping them with their hunts and foraging.
Somewhere along the way, when Lisa managed to rope Diona into helping with her potions, she sometimes sat in with Razor in his lessons, assisting him through some of the more difficult materials.
It was nice. Almost like having a sibling. She wants to tell him that one day.
Basket filled to the brim, she hands it to him and they make their way to the front where a cart was placed to the side, several wild boars and other game stacked neatly on top. Razor considers each one before picking the second to largest one, hefting it over his shoulder in one smooth motion.
“Thank you, Diona. Must go now.”
“You’re welcome. I’ll see you around Razor."
“Goodbye. Tell Mr. Draff…Hi.” Razor waves and walks into the forest, a boar over a shoulder and basket in hand. As he rounds the corner, she sees a dash of fur leap out to walk alongside him before both disappear out of her line of sight.
“Alright,” Diona mutters. “Time to get to work.”
She brings the crate of washed grapes near the cooking pot filled with water, picking out any remaining stems and leaves before adding them in with spoonfuls of sugar and honey. Diona lets the mixture simmer for a bit before mashing it, stirring occasionally. When it is adequately heated, she extinguishes the fire, waiting for it to cool slightly as she sets up a cheesecloth into a bucket. She strains the must over and over again until the pomace is strained out and the remaining juice is clear. Pouring out a little into a cup, she tastes it.
Satisfied, she tips the final product into a prepared barrel. Time to begin her first sale.
Seconds after putting up the sign at the window, a crowd begins to form as they read over her advertisement:
“Summer's Nostalgia: Soon to be Served!”
Her own grape juice. Take that alcohol.
“Dawn Winery already sells grape juice.”
Diona huffs at Eula, who is already being disapprovingly reprimanded by Amber.
“I’m just pointing out the facts,” Eula continues unperturbed. “She needs to know her competition if she is to win.”
“I know that,” Diona says. “I intend to make one even better.”
“Understood,” Eula replies, a grave looking passing over her face. “May vengeance serve you well.”
Diona nods. Amber looks disbelievingly between them, and mutters, “Win what? I can’t believe my girlfriend is taking part in a grape juice war.”
Eula responds by placing cold, Cryo-imbued hands on the back of her neck, causing the Outrider to yelp in surprise. She lightly smacks Eula across the shoulder, face pink with embarrassment.
Diona wants to gag. Gross.
“You’re so rude. I’m not paying for our drinks.”
“You have to. It’s your turn.” The Reconnaissance Knight takes another sip to make a point. Diona nods. Not that she knows, of course, but someone has to pay.
Amber shakes her head. “Not anymore. Hey, are you free tomorrow evening?”
The other takes a moment to consider before confirming that she does not have anything scheduled.
“Great. Meet me at Good Hunter?” Amber asks, a smile on her face as she fidgets with her gloves.
“Of course.”
Diona has never seen anyone more smitten.
“Sweet. I gotta go on my patrol now.” Amber takes a napkin to dry the puddle of condensation on the counter and pushes their empty cups to Diona’s side. “I’ll see you later, Eula. And thank you for the drinks, Diona!”
“You’re welcome.” Diona takes the cups and sets them into the basin with the others, running water through them as she gets the soap.
“Wait.” Eula gingerly tugs the Outrider back to her and presses a kiss on Amber’s forehead. “Also you forgot to pay for the drinks.”
Amber responds with a cheerful “Love you!”
Eula fondly watches her leave.
“I’m so glad I won the bet, by the way.” Diona says, grinning a little. “At least it makes this a little tolerable.”
Eula rolls her eyes. “I think you and Lisa conspired to win. Besides, I don’t think that will cover you for long.”
“You’re absolutely right.” A bubble floats up from the soapy bath and Diona pokes at it with finger. It manages to evade her, popping itself on the corner of the window instead.
"I’m glad to see you doing well. How is… Draff?" Eula asks softly. Her tone ices over but her expression, if one knew her, is intensely concerned.
Diona straightens up, glancing guardedly around. Business is slow. It's just after the rush of lunch meet-ups and before their happy hour. There was only one other customer seated at a table on the opposite end, out of earshot.
I don't need your pity, Diona wants to say, the old gut-instinct almost kicking in when she's at the end of her wits. But Eula doesn't pity. She doesn't mock. This is different. They crossed that bridge already.
It’s her break and Eula had asked to talk to her in the little alley between the buildings, discreet enough from the busy streets with the carts and boxes on either end blocking any nosy onlookers.
Eula didn’t speak right away, merely looked at her, and Diona was immediately aware of the state she was in: stains on her usually neat outfits, hair frayed and almost greasy, and bags under her eyes, darker than what is normal for a kid her age.
She clears her throat, trying to draw attention away from her appearance. “What did you want to ask about?”
"I was wondering if you were alright? Especially after that… incident?
Diona freezes in her spot.“Wh-what incident?”
“Draff. He almost got hurt while you were at work.”
She scowls.“Yes, I’m fine. He’s fine. We’re all fine! So let’s get back inside.”
Diona barely takes a step before a gloved hand blocks her path. Defeated, she backtracks, slumping against the wall, gaze trained on the delicate blades of grass between them.
“You don’t sound fine… Or look fine.”
Shame floods through her. Fist clenched, Diona says, "You're looking down on me."
"Diona, by the Archons, I promise I am not looking down on you. I am just con—"
"Yeah, yeah you're 'concerned' but just say what you think. Am I overbearing? Or am I not capable?" Her voice pitches up and her cheeks burn. She can hear herself spiral and tries to reel it back, to laugh it off, but sleep has evaded her for far too long. The cup's already tipped over, contents spilling over the edge, and it keeps asking, "Do you think I don't care enough? That I'm a bad daughter that—that I allowed it to happen? I told him. I told him again and again and I don't know what to do anymore and I'm tired of seeing him half sick when I come home or when I wake up or when I'm not even around so—so does he do it because he doesn't love me?" Diona chokes out the last part, invisible hands closing around her throat, and she's suddenly gasping for breath in the shade of this beautiful sunny day.
“Dio—can you—me? —reathe. Hey—be okay. Breathe. Look at me, please.”
She doesn't want to. Can't.
She takes a breath in.
She lets it go
Then another.
It feels like eternity but she finally feels a semblance of control returning.
They don't speak. Eula hovers close, crouched beside her. Guilt and concern written in the lines of her eyes as she waits for Diona sobs to subside.
“I—I sincerely apologize, Diona. I did not mean to disrespect your boundaries on this matter but I can see I have overstepped them. We do not have to continue this conversation.”
With a desperate lurch, Diona grabs onto Eula’s hand and she can feel the Reconnaissance Captain twitch in surprise. She hiccups. “No—please. I… I want to talk about it.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
Eula gently guides her to a bench nearby. With a shaky voice, she tells Eula about how a handful of townspeople blame her for Draff’s alcoholism, muttering taunts or digs in passing moments that stay for much longer. How the claws of their remarks sunk deeper after he almost got hurt had the Traveler not helped her intervene. It had been one of his worst drunken situations.
Others tell her to loosen up. That she’s being a burden to her father by being so unreasonable. That her nagging causes him to indulge.
She doesn’t know what to think anymore.
Eula stayed quiet, letting the torrent of anxieties and misplaced guilt pass by, a hand rubbing comforting circles on her back. She left momentarily to bring back a glass of water from the tavern, holding her close until the Acting Grand Master summoned Eula for some urgent business.
Diona called off the rest of work that day. Margaret told her to take the next day off as well, with full pay.
So she did. Diona joined a small hunting group, catching a few fowls and small boars until the late afternoon. When she returned, her nose picked up on the cool scent of Cryo on the walls, sticking like shadows casted from surging waves and old, fortified glaciers.
That night, her father had sunk to his knees and cried, holding her close, shaking until she was crying, and he promised her he would do better.
"I'm glad someone was looking out for you when I couldn't."
She's not stupid. Diona could connect the dots.
Upset at first, she wanted to confront Eula and yell at her for breaking her trust. But she got through to him somehow. He sobered up, and stayed so, relapsing once or twice a month, but never as bad.
So when Eula was hurt, Diona was there, helping to make the pain-suppressing potion Lisa created while Jean's younger sister gritted her teeth, stitching the wound with Hydro amidst the pool of blood.
Diona neatly lines the clean cups on the counter, grabbing a towel nearby to dry them. They both know it’s a distraction she needs. "He's… he's doing better. Yeah…"
"Are you sure?" Eula narrows her eyes. "Do you require… assistance?”
Diona shakes her head. “No, really. He’s drinking less and being more careful. It’s just, yesterday was… you know…Memories.” A hand is tugging at her hair and she takes a moment to compose herself. Eula waits, her gaze patient and understanding, but there is still an edge in her eyes. “It’s really fine. If anything happens, I promise to let you or the other Knights know.”
She is scrutinized for another second before the Reconnaissance Captain nods, seemingly satisfied with her response. Eula places down Mora to pay for both of their drinks but Diona tosses it back to her.
"Amber paid before you got here."
Eula scoffs but as she goes, Diona sees the Spindrift Knight smile before the door closes.
“Two dozen bottles of your finest grape juice, please.”
Diona frowns, slowly packing the bottles into a crate, confused at the Calvary Captain's request. “You don’t drink non-alcoholic… anything. Nor do you make personal deliveries. Who is this for?”
Kaeya smiles playfully. “Wouldn’t you like to know Miss Diona? Maybe if there was a little incentive for me…”
She does. She really does. Someone had been ordering crates of Summer’s Nostalgia every month for the past four months, boosting sales beyond what Dawn Winery had achieved with their drink. When asked, the delivery people apologetically said they could not tell her. She found it strange but she had shrugged the rejection away. Diona doubted there were any insidious plans that would involve grape juice.
Tail swishing back and forth, she agonizes over it, because he’s after free alcohol and Diona in very few circumstances would allow that but….
“Ugh. Fine. Two free drinks.”
“Five.”
“No. Three.”
“Deal.” Grinning, Kaeya gestures to her to come closer. She leans in and he whispers a name. Her mouth falls open.
“What?!”
Kaeya laughs. “Pleasure doing business with you.”
“You're lying.”
“I'm offended.”
“I require proof,” Diona scoffs.
“Sure,” Kaeya shrugs, hefting the cases into his arms. “You can tag along if you'd like.”
Scanning the surprisingly empty tavern, Diona nods. “I'll let Margaret know.”
“So, if it’s really who you say it is, why does he keep his deliveries a secret?” Diona asks.
Kaeya chuckles. “Well, he told me his butler was bitten the last time there was a meeting at The Cat’s Tavern.”
Oh, him. Diona still feels a surge of irritation at the memory, but it's now slightly tinged with embarrassment.
“Hmph,” Diona grumbles. The bottles in her hand rattle as she shifts the crate. “He was bothering the cats.”
“Of course,” Kaeya says cheerfully.
“Why do you think he likes it so much?”
Humming, Kaeya doesn’t respond. Maybe he doesn’t know either.
“Diluc says your drink holds up to its name. I'm inclined to agree.”
They walk the rest of the way in silence. It was a peaceful day. No signs of abyss or Fatui troubles, and the only other people they’ve seen were Amber and some other Knights on their patrols.
Nearing Dawn’s Winery, the scent of grapes drifted in the winds, and along with it, a strange feeling. A mix of apprehension. Maybe even curiosity. The notes in her back pocket weighed her steps heavily.
The manor looked… imposing wasn’t the right word. She had thought it’d be more daunting. Filled with rage, she had sworn she would never step foot near the place that had caused her so much grief. The issue with her father isn’t as simple as it seemed years ago, but she still held a grudge with the lack of responsibility from the city’s largest supplier.
Still…
The neat rows of grapevines are plotted with ample space. The dirt path is clear. Like a brook, it gently curves up for an easy walk, and gleaming in the sun, the weathered bricks and cobblestone still hold strong despite the marks of time.
Passing by an older gentleman, who cordially waves at them, they arrived at the entrance. Kaeya knocks, and a second later, a maid emerges, greeting the Calverley Captain fondly.
“And this here is Diona.”
“Welcome to Dawn Winery, Miss Diona. Please, come in.”
When they entered, two other maids gracefully swooped in to carry their cargo into another room while Adelinde led them to the large dining table in the center of the room.
“Thank you, Miss Adelinde.”
Cozy, Diona thought, scanning her surroundings. She pauses at a particular decor.
“Archons… that’s an interesting vase,” Diona murmurs to Kaeya.
He snickers at her remark. “Thank you. I tried.”
Their conversation is cut short by Adelinde's appearance.
“Master Diluc will be with you in a moment.”
Straightening, Diona steels herself for her task. Now was her chance for change. Even if it didn’t work, she’d at least tried.
Master Diluc has eyes like ash, Diona finds. As she shares her experiences about her father, they sift, shining a grief so encapsulating that it makes her blink back the ache behind her own. It settles on her skin and makes her nose itch.
When she finishes, there's a few questions. Some suggestions. And an apology.
“I will see to this personally.”
Then he gently asks for her notes, and thanks her for her time.
Before they leave, Diona turns back to him. “You can visit, if you want. I think the cats would like you.”
His solemn expression doesn’t change, but he nods. “Perhaps I will.”
With a nod of her own, Diona departs with Kaeya, feeling lighter than she had been in years.