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It had been a very long day. It always is whenever Venti and Kaeya happen to be in the Angel's Share on the same night, two drunkard nuisances that Diluc can't get rid of even if he wanted to. Truthly, he's always stuck between the two sides, one foot in a different pond, as to whether he wants to get rid of them at all; one side, the one bubbling over with annoyance at the rowdy, drunken antics very much does, for the other patrons if no other reason, meanwhile the other side of him enjoys the company. It is a difficult act to balance, to be sure, and usually ends with the pair staying after all, unmoved by any glares or pointed yet polite comments Diluc could throw their way. Tonight, though, Diluc is tired, his body not working quite the way he had honed it to, and it's throwing him off.
Had he overdone it on one of his recent outings? Or was it just sleep deprivation slowing him down, making his limbs feel like they were formed from molten lead? Whatever it was that was leaving him sluggish, he just hoped nothing else would happen, lest he also develops a headache.
Perhaps the archons were laughing at his misery (a glance let him know Venti was certainly laughing away though it was clearly unrelated to Diluc's internal monologue). With a creak, the tavern door swung open. As Diluc raised his head, about to welcome the newest patron, the words caught in his throat.
Though they hadn't 'formally' met, Diluc had heard many things about number eleven of the Fatui Harbingers. It was hard to mistake him with his head of ginger hair, candlelight from the chandeliers lining the grooves of the crimson mask Diluc had seen years prior hanging at his temple, unmistakable. When he raised his head, though his smile was cheerful and downright pleasant, as though there was no other place he would rather be in that moment, his eyes revealed nothing, reminiscent of the dark depths of Teyvat's oceans, cold and empty. Diluc's grip tightened on the glass he had been polishing, aware that if he squeezed any tighter it would break.
"Evening, comrades," Tartaglia grinned, sliding into a seat at the bar. To their credit, the two sitting at the bar paused, conversation dwindling momentarily as they took in the newcomer. Diluc said nothing. Though he wanted nothing more than to ask the Fatuus to leave, he had not given him reason to. Yet. One misstep , Diluc dared him in his mind, watching him like a hawk, just one sign of trouble and I will remove him.
Between Diluc's tense form and the curious yet cautious looks he had gotten from the knight and the archon, Tartaglia laughed, shaking his head. "Come now, am I really so suspicious? Please, don't pause your conversation on my behalf."
"What will you have?" Diluc simply asked, slipping back into the role of tavern owner. As Tartaglia took him in, Diluc held his gaze, the harbinger's smile growing enough to show teeth.
"When in Mondstadt, do as the Mondstadters," Tartaglia replied good-naturedly, "Your dandelion wine is famous throughout Teyvat. A glass of that if you would."
With a nod, Diluc began preparing the drink as his friends continued eyeing the stranger. Diluc had no doubt that they knew exactly who the Fatuus was too, gleaning as much information from his appearance as they could the way Diluc was prone to. Behind him, he heard introductions, Tartaglia introducing himself as 'Childe', matching with every piece of information Diluc had on him, whether from the mouth of the traveller or his own experience, ascertaining what Diluc already knew.
"What brings you to these parts?" Venti asked, a pleasant cheer in his tone, though Diluc could detect an edge in it. No matter how much he chose to act like it, Venti was no fool after all, and Diluc was highly aware of the risk that underestimating him brought. He heard Tartaglia laugh.
"Is it obvious that I'm not from around here? I suppose it is."
"Mondstadt welcomes all visitors," Diluc heard the slow smile in Kaeya's voice, honeyed words that fell from his silver tongue. "No matter who they may be."
Diluc glanced over his shoulder, pouring using trained muscle memory. Tartaglia's ice lake eyes were on the cavalry captain. Though he continued to smile, it was close-lipped now, the Fatuus clearly hearing the thinly veiled warning. We know who you are, what you have done, and are waiting.
The lethargy in Diluc's body returned like a punch to the jaw. As he listened to the politely-pleasant conversation that sparked between his brother and the stranger, Venti helpfully piping up every few sentences, Diluc spaced out for a moment. He placed the bottle of wine on the counter, scrunching his eyes and wringing out the fatigue like water from a dishcloth. A ghost of a headache buzzed against his skull, uncomfortable but inevitable. An ill omen, if there ever was one.
"Oh, I'm not on business," Tartaglia laughed as Diluc placed his glass on the bartop in front of him. "Simply visiting. I visited Inazuma recently and found it highly enriching, so I thought I'd visit fair Mondstadt on the way back as well."
"Well, you have arrived at a good time," Kaeya swirled the cognac in his glass, the ice bouncing off the sides with a plink. "We will be arranging the Windblume festival very shortly. I do hope you will stay to enjoy it."
"I'm sure I could tarry a few weeks," Childe drawled, as Diluc internally prayed that he wouldn't . It was purely rules of proper conduct that were holding him back, feeling entirely ill at ease with a Fatuus at his bar. After all, he had been banned from entering Snezhnaya for a reason, even if it was in his younger, more rage-filled and vulnerable years. Even if he had moved past the person he had been back then, the way he felt towards the Fatui had not, still a burning hatred that burned in his chest. In any other situation, the Snezhnayan would have had no choice but to leave.
"Wonderful!" Venti clapped his hands. He leaned over Kaeya's lap, the cavalry captain simply letting him as he used his thigh to keep his balance, the bard grinning brightly. "Well, how is the wine? It is a well known fact there is none finer anywhere. Give it a taste!" Tartaglia placed the rim of his glass to his lips, the corners of his mouth twitching up as Venti stared him down, before he took a large gulp of the golden liquid. Having savoured it, he lifted the glass, eyeing the drink for a long, pensive moment before setting it back down in front of him. Folding his hands, he rested his chin on them as he leaned forward against the bar, his smile fox-like as he turned to Diluc.
"It is as the rumours say. There is no better wine than Master Diluc's."
Diluc felt his stomach turn, eyes narrowing a degree. There was no doubt in Diluc's mind that Tartaglia recognised him too, weighing him up like an opponent on the battlefield. Was the Eleventh one to bear a grudge? Diluc locked his jaw, turning away to refill Venti's glass before the bard could even ask. His fingers shook, he noticed, a spike of adrenaline hitting his system. It was enough to override his lethargy for a moment, feeling nothing but the fight impulse, like at a second's notice he might have to drop everything and be at the Fatuus' throat.
Even though his mind felt sharp as a claymore, his body still felt unusually heavy. He fumbled Venti's cup, the glass shattering as it struck the floor at his feet. He swore under his breath, not in the language of Mondstadt but in the other, a more private tongue he had learned as a child. He knelt down, sweeping the shattered pieces away and putting them safely into a bin. Dusting off his hands, he turned back to the bar, stopping midstep. All conversation between the Snezhnayan and the others had paused, the harbinger staring at him with wide eyes, mouth agape. Diluc frowned, the sudden change uncomfortable. Tartaglia wet his mouth, clearly itching to speak.
" Ty ," he began, and Diluc, despite his best efforts, felt his breath draw short. " Ty też znasz ten język?"
They stared at each other, Tartaglia's fingers drumming on the bartop, unable to keep still. If the tension had been a taut string, that string had snapped - but instead of a bloodbath the way Diluc had worried, it was a situation he wasn't sure how to feel about, a lump in his throat. Slowly, he nodded, the smile (the first genuine one he had seen on the harbinger's face) lighting up ever brighter.
" Wspaniale! Ale jak? Od jak dawna? Od dziecka? " Shifting in his stool, he rubbed the back of his head, sheepish, and it was the most human he had looked since coming into the tavern, just a young, ordinary man. Seeing him this way, it was hard to imagine him as a man who could - and had - ended countless lives at the wish of his queen. It was such a stark juxtaposition that Diluc wasn't sure how best to respond. " Przepraszam, po prostu nigdy nie spotkałem innej osoby poza własną matką z którą mogę tak porozmawiać. I z rodzeństwem, oczywiście, ale poza rodziną nie znam nikogo, kto tak umie. Nie rozumiesz jak wiele to dla mnie znaczy. "
He could feel Kaeya and Venti's eyes on him. He didn't return the gazes, simply picking up a new glass for the bard, filling it almost to the brim.
"Please, simply speak to me in the common tongue," he replied even as a strange warmth had ignited in his chest. Tartaglia was still watching him, the sense of wonder refusing to dissipate, draped around him like a blanket of snow so thick it almost felt tactile, like if Diluc wanted to he could reach out and touch it with his own hands.
" Rozumiem, ale muszę odmówić. Za dużo mam z tobą zabawy, " the Snezhnayan laughed. He leaned forward, and for a second Diluc worried he would climb over the counter to stand with him. " Mamy więcej wspólnego ze sobą niż się nam wydawało. Co nie, panie Bohaterze? "
For a tense moment, Diluc held his breath. Yet, Tartaglia simply leaned back, grinning. Raising his glass, he cheered, "Another round, please, for everyone here!" A couple of people sitting close by, unaware of who the stranger from Snezhnaya was, clamoured in appreciative agreement, glasses raising along at Angel's Share's ground floor, Diluc's eyes roving the guests rallied by the Snezhnayan. Tartaglia simply smiled, pointing the glass towards him, his smile like honeyed wine. "To good company, and to Master Diluc."
As the crowd merrily shouted their toasts in agreement, Diluc watched as Tartaglia took another long sip of his drink. Maybe, he figured, holding the harbinger's steady gaze, they could agree to a truce, just for one night.