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It had been four years, four years, and six months. four years since he’d left Mondstadt in the dead of night, without so much as a word about his departure. Since then, he traveled across Teyvat in seclusion. relentlessly searching every inch of the Seven Nations for who had taken his father’s life, for whoever was responsible for such an ungodly deed. Anything was better than looking at himself, or worse, at his hands that he knew were stained with blood, the slick feeling clung to his skin and it never washed off no matter how hard he scrubbed til they were redder than the blood that coated them.
On the worst days, he could still smell the burnt hair and flesh. The fire flickering along his fingertips as his father cried out for mercy for his son to end his life.
“I'm so proud of you, my son,”
Diluc remembered those last words fondly. They brought him so much joy it was all he ever wanted, for his father to be proud of him and his accomplishments. It didn't last more than a few moments before being ripped away from him. At the time, he wanted nothing but to have his father back. To have his father tell him he was proud of him again, to comfort him, tell him none of it was his fault and everything would be okay.
To shift the blame onto someone, anything else, even if that meant destroying everything else he’d loved. He still wants that back, he wants it more than anything yet, he knows that his father is dead. He was the one who’d felt the moment his father’s heart gave out after all.
After all these years he was returning to Mondstadt. Why exactly? Perhaps it was out of a sense of duty, a sense of purpose. Part of him wants to say it was guilt. Guilty of not being fast enough to reach his dying father, guilty of leaving his friends and his only family behind, guilty for taking his anger out on the only family he had left. At his very core, he was ashamed and guilty.
He was getting too deep inside his thoughts at this rate he may just throw himself off a cliff before even reaching The Stone Gate he thought to himself.
And yet, the nostalgic aroma of dandelions snapped him out of his depressing thoughts. The sight of the dandelion seeds dancing in the air was a calming sight, one he hadn’t seen in years. He wasn’t sure when he’d crossed the Stone Gate he must've been on autopilot, that was the only logical explanation for his situation.
While Diluc never did enjoy the taste of wine.
The preparation of gathering the petals and flower heads for the seasonal dandelion wine preparation had always been a joy. His father was sure to make it into a game rather than tedious labor for the maids and groundskeepers.
Against his better judgment, Diluc flopped down on the field surrounded by the company of dandelions and their comforting bitter-sweet smell. Was it raining? pondered Diluc as he rubbed away the presumed raindrops from his face.
It was at that moment that he realized, he had been crying. A wheeze pushed its way through his tired lungs as hugged himself as to held himself together from falling apart. Even his clothes were falling apart at the seams, blood-stained, ripped, and now covered in tears and grass stains. He was a mess.
“I’m home, I’m so sorry it took so long,”
Diluc mouthed weakly to no one in particular.
He suddenly felt embarrassed and vulnerable laying outside in a field, crying. He hoped for his shreds of remaining dignity that no one had seen him.
“Young Master Diluc?!”
Spoke an all too familiar voice as a whip of blonde hair turned around fast enough to make his head spin. Diluc found himself showered by water for real this time.
“Oh, Barbatos! Master Diluc? Good Archons above. I’m so sorry!”
“Adelinde?!”
He replied confused, but his voice came out gurgled and pathetic. Well, there went the last ounce of his dignity. Being sprayed by a garden house like some sort of stray cat. He would be wrong to say he didn’t deserve this. At least it helped with the various grime that stuck to his body, somewhat… as for the woman standing before him helping him to his feet.
(Before he slipped on the now wet grass, and fell on his behind. rest in pieces dignity I hardly knew ye)
it really was her it was Adelinde.
Adelinde was the Head Maid of the Ragnvindr Household and his caretaker growing up. She was the closest thing he had to a mother. She is the closest thing. He corrected himself.
For some matter or another, he assumed she would've moved on and forgotten about him. Gotten a far better-paying job, perhaps even moved away from Mondstadt and settled down with a family.
He realizes now his assumptions were incorrect.
As he met his former caretaker’s gaze he instinctively lowered his head like a scolded child caught playing in the mud. Undoubtedly his hair is a mess Diluc can feel a sizable twig sticking out of it.
Instead of being scolded by her or pulling him inside by the ear, she ran to him and wrapped her arms around him as if he would disappear right in front of her.
he could only gasp at her sudden gentle touch drawing him into an embrace.
He thinks he would've reacted better to being lectured. How should he react to this, to this closeness?
But, this is Adelinde, the same woman that cared, and still cares for him like a mother, not because of a paycheck or because of an obligation but because she cares.
He hesitantly wrapped his arms around Adelinde and leaned into her arms. It was familiar, the way she radiated warmth and smelled like freshly cut grass.
As they parted from their embrace he met her face to face, a small smile hung from her features.
“Welcome home. Let’s get you inside, I’m sure there’s much to talk about. I’ll draw you a warm bath.”