after the riot of footsteps thundering towards them, diluc had expected more than a scant dozen fatui, bruisers upon bruisers. even though years of estrangement has soured their once-perfect battlefield coordination, the natural resonance of cryo and pyro makes the fight a straightforward one. diluc falls into the rhythm of it, mind calming to a distant roar. to wield the greatsword requires strength and focus; to wield it well requires the ability to block out all else. he swallows past the acrid tang of elemental resonance that coats his tongue, expression twisted into a grimace. if anyone who knew him in the daylight saw him now, they might not recognize him: sweat slicks his hair to his face, and something like fury darkens his normally placid gaze.
something like, but not quite. in these moments, diluc feels most like himself. drinking the power from the air, and flicking his blade wherever instinct dictates; like this, he's not thinking about how difficult it will be to see kaeya in the tavern tomorrow or next week. there is no dwelling on resentment and regret when kaeya is simply another chesspiece on the board, one that moves in imperfect agreement without diluc having to direct him. imperfect, but effective all the same.
still -
even through the haze of a skirmish almost won, diluc knows that something is wrong. the attacks are coordinated and well-planned, because the fatui are nothing if not trained to excellence. but he'd seen a veritable storm of mages when he'd first followed the trail of information down to its source. the value of what these ruins contain cannot be underestimated, given the number of vision holders in mondstadt. if even a single one suffered the untethering of mind from will - the destruction would be implacable.
the only issue with the compatibility of cryo and pyro: it leads to a fine vapor filling the room, obscuring their sight. diluc hears the grind of stone against stone, and doesn't register the source until it's too late:
the mages had been smarter than their heavy-footed brethren. apparently there was a hidden door fitted into the chamber where he'd brought kaeya initially. it rolls open now, and a single mage drifts into the fray. or not quite into the fray - she lingers at the edges, smiling like she's holding a secret between her teeth; it's only then that diluc notices her.
he shouts for kaeya - move! - as she raises her hand in their direction, but she's not readying a spell. she's loading a tiny yellow bauble into a silver casing and pointing it at him; even a blast of flame doesn't stop the ensuing shot from piercing through him.
a curious sensation. a familiar one.
oh, much of his knowledge about the fatui's research had been gathered through his information network. but the reason he'd tapped into his network in the first place -
it was only a few weeks ago, in this very chamber. he'd been on a reconnaissance mission, careful to seek and not to let himself be sought in turn. they must have spent weeks bringing in the machinery necessary for their alchemical experiments, as the entirety of the ruin looked as if it were taken over by a great creature's vascular system. great pulsing veins of gold and green, a thousand capillaries beating to the same soft rhythm. he'd leaned in to peer into one of the metal flanges that had cracked down the center due to the pressure within; for his efforts he'd been rewarded a lungful of golden dust.
he'd spent the next hour pressed up against a wall in the shadows, feeling as if his flame was trying to burst from his body. incandescent. as if at any moment his fire might leap from soul to heart to flesh until it ate away at everything. he'd needed to burn, to burn anything at all, to burn until the stone melted to lava, until the air itself glittered with sparks. the only reason he hadn't given himself away to the patrol of mages and alchemists was his iron-clad will. the sound of his father's voice, echoing through his mind - shine true. shine true. shine true. afterwards, when he'd scattered his madness away from him and limped how to the winery, he'd spent another twelve hours locked in his study, reviewing every document pertaining to the fatui plot that he'd managed to amass.
all of that, after a single inhale.
and now, the entire damn artifact has been shot into him, into that soft hollow place under his clavicle. he feels no pain. no projectile entry, and certainly no exit. but it had struck him: his skin tingles with a pleasant warmth. he drops his greatsword in a noisy clatter, and presses a hand to his chest.
leave them, the mage says. diluc hears the words, but does not understand them. someone is breathing in his ears, and it's too loud. too much. he's being scalded from the inside out. flame leaps to his hands, flame weeps from his closed eyes. we'll clean up what's left after ragnvindr is done.
he's thinking about parchment in the fire. how it blackens and curls at the edges before disintegrating entirely.
he's more flame than flesh, and everything around him must know the same burn.
it isn't so different from the way diluc usually feels. but now - there's no human fetters to stop him from acting upon that impulse. ]
no subject
after the riot of footsteps thundering towards them, diluc had expected more than a scant dozen fatui, bruisers upon bruisers. even though years of estrangement has soured their once-perfect battlefield coordination, the natural resonance of cryo and pyro makes the fight a straightforward one. diluc falls into the rhythm of it, mind calming to a distant roar. to wield the greatsword requires strength and focus; to wield it well requires the ability to block out all else. he swallows past the acrid tang of elemental resonance that coats his tongue, expression twisted into a grimace. if anyone who knew him in the daylight saw him now, they might not recognize him: sweat slicks his hair to his face, and something like fury darkens his normally placid gaze.
something like, but not quite. in these moments, diluc feels most like himself. drinking the power from the air, and flicking his blade wherever instinct dictates; like this, he's not thinking about how difficult it will be to see kaeya in the tavern tomorrow or next week. there is no dwelling on resentment and regret when kaeya is simply another chesspiece on the board, one that moves in imperfect agreement without diluc having to direct him. imperfect, but effective all the same.
still -
even through the haze of a skirmish almost won, diluc knows that something is wrong. the attacks are coordinated and well-planned, because the fatui are nothing if not trained to excellence. but he'd seen a veritable storm of mages when he'd first followed the trail of information down to its source. the value of what these ruins contain cannot be underestimated, given the number of vision holders in mondstadt. if even a single one suffered the untethering of mind from will - the destruction would be implacable.
the only issue with the compatibility of cryo and pyro: it leads to a fine vapor filling the room, obscuring their sight. diluc hears the grind of stone against stone, and doesn't register the source until it's too late:
the mages had been smarter than their heavy-footed brethren. apparently there was a hidden door fitted into the chamber where he'd brought kaeya initially. it rolls open now, and a single mage drifts into the fray. or not quite into the fray - she lingers at the edges, smiling like she's holding a secret between her teeth; it's only then that diluc notices her.
he shouts for kaeya - move! - as she raises her hand in their direction, but she's not readying a spell. she's loading a tiny yellow bauble into a silver casing and pointing it at him; even a blast of flame doesn't stop the ensuing shot from piercing through him.
a curious sensation. a familiar one.
oh, much of his knowledge about the fatui's research had been gathered through his information network. but the reason he'd tapped into his network in the first place -
it was only a few weeks ago, in this very chamber. he'd been on a reconnaissance mission, careful to seek and not to let himself be sought in turn. they must have spent weeks bringing in the machinery necessary for their alchemical experiments, as the entirety of the ruin looked as if it were taken over by a great creature's vascular system. great pulsing veins of gold and green, a thousand capillaries beating to the same soft rhythm. he'd leaned in to peer into one of the metal flanges that had cracked down the center due to the pressure within; for his efforts he'd been rewarded a lungful of golden dust.
he'd spent the next hour pressed up against a wall in the shadows, feeling as if his flame was trying to burst from his body. incandescent. as if at any moment his fire might leap from soul to heart to flesh until it ate away at everything. he'd needed to burn, to burn anything at all, to burn until the stone melted to lava, until the air itself glittered with sparks. the only reason he hadn't given himself away to the patrol of mages and alchemists was his iron-clad will. the sound of his father's voice, echoing through his mind - shine true. shine true. shine true. afterwards, when he'd scattered his madness away from him and limped how to the winery, he'd spent another twelve hours locked in his study, reviewing every document pertaining to the fatui plot that he'd managed to amass.
all of that, after a single inhale.
and now, the entire damn artifact has been shot into him, into that soft hollow place under his clavicle. he feels no pain. no projectile entry, and certainly no exit. but it had struck him: his skin tingles with a pleasant warmth. he drops his greatsword in a noisy clatter, and presses a hand to his chest.
leave them, the mage says. diluc hears the words, but does not understand them. someone is breathing in his ears, and it's too loud. too much. he's being scalded from the inside out. flame leaps to his hands, flame weeps from his closed eyes. we'll clean up what's left after ragnvindr is done.
he's thinking about parchment in the fire. how it blackens and curls at the edges before disintegrating entirely.
he's more flame than flesh, and everything around him must know the same burn.
it isn't so different from the way diluc usually feels. but now - there's no human fetters to stop him from acting upon that impulse. ]