jikan_rpg | ✵ [Jan Catchall] Hope is not pretending that troubles don't exist.

[ Ah--

Childe blinks. Surprise registers on his face at the irritated remark, the wide-eyed look adding a touch of naivete on his features that doesn't feel entirely out of place. For all that he's a terrifying Fatui, it's a look he wears remarkably well.

Diluc's back is already turned, and he's already walking away with that barely-there invitation tossed over his shoulder for him to join him - if he'd like. While Childe is sorely tempted to just ditch him and be done with it, leaving Diluc to his thoughts as he'd said - their relationship has never been so simple, and he knew it would not be so now.

So he's quick to hop off the rock, following Diluc's own trail of footprints at a leisurely crawl. The bucket swings in his hand a little and perhaps the only indication Diluc will get that he isn't alone is the sound of shells and seaglass tinkling musically behind him. ]

[He isn't sure what he expects to happen. Will Childe follow him, or not? With how things have been between them lately either eventuality was just as likely as the other but he still finds himself mildly surprised to hear the sound of softly tinkling shells behind him just over the sound of the ocean spray.

And Diluc tolerates this 'follow-the-leader' scenario for all of ten seconds before he stops and looks over his shoulder.]

Don't trail behind me like that. Are you coming or not?

[Does it make him uncomfortable to have someone following along at his back like that? Well, yes, a little. It isn't just Childe who would garner such a reaction from doing so.

He makes a gesture to his side, crimson eyes lit and sharpened with a kind of irritation that hasn't really been directed at Childe before. It isn't aggressive or derisive, for all that is still clear agitation on Diluc's part.]

Maybe if you didn't walk like you were running a marathon, I wouldn't.

[ Diluc's pause gives him more than enough time to catch up to him, but Childe himself is in no hurry to go to where it is they're going and instead ambles along at a leisurely pace. If Diluc wants to continue to walk side-by-side he'll have to slow down considerably.

But he does note the different tone that he uses, and despite that it's less tolerating and more gruff, he thinks he rather prefers this.

Childe might not have any idea where they're going but it's not as if the beach branches off into different paths. Along the shore there's really only one main path down this way, and it's easy enough to ascertain which direction to head off into if one just used their wits. ]

It's hardly difficult to walk quicker than a snails pace.

[He does slow down, if only because having someone walking behind him raises the hair on the back of his neck in a way that he can really do without. In this case it's certainly not personal - he doesn't like Kaeya trailing behind him either and he trusts that man more than anyone to not put a knife in his back.

While they're idling their way up the beach he hooks his thumbs into his pockets, occasionally lifting one to tuck a piece of wayward hair back behind his ear as the wind whips at it.

Where he's intending to go isn't far away from the end of the path off the beach - a small cafe-type place serving tea, coffee and a small food menu. It's clear they recognise Diluc when he walks in and he moves for a table immediately, sliding into a chair and unwinding his scarf from around his neck. The place is cosy and warm indoors, the insides of the windows faintly misted with condensation.]

And yet, here I am doing it anyway.

[ The walk down the beach is made leisurely as a result of his slower pace, and Childe does little except bask in the ambiance of it all. To some, a gentle, easy walk along the sands with another person who one did not completely abhor was as romantic as any date, and while Childe knows Diluc would probably change his mind about him accompanying him if he said his out loud, it doesn't keep him from wanting to anyway.

Mercifully, they reach the little cafe sooner rather than later and he ducks himself inside before following the man over to the table that seems to be his usual haunt, given the familiarity he eases himself into the chair. It's almost too-warm for Childe, however, and he finds himself unraveling his own scarf and letting it drape over the back of his chair before he peers around in curiosity. ]

This is nice. I can see why you come here often.

Mm... [It's cosy, comfortable, reminds him a little of Mondstadt if he squints. Plus it's easy to reach from the beach and at this time of year somewhere one can quickly duck in and grab a hot drink is a blessing in itself.

Diluc watches Childe carefully, almost cautiously as he settles himself in his seat. Maybe the other man doesn't realise how unusual it is for Diluc to invite somebody else into a space where he goes to find comfort, or maybe he does and is simply doing a good job of not showing it. He still isn't entirely sure what to make of the Snezhnayan since their confrontation before the turn of the year - how much he knows makes Diluc uneasy, even if the information is all but useless to him.

When someone bustles over to take their order, Diluc quietly asks for a pot of a specific tea blend.]

So, [He says once the staff member is gone.] Is there a reason you avoided my question, or is it just that you're embarrassed about what you said to me?

[ There are a number of different ways he could handle this specific line of questioning, especially since he thinks he knows what Diluc is trying to get at, what he's trying to make Childe admit. If it were any other person he might feel annoyed since this feel like a very obvious attempt at manipulation to get him to repeat himself, but he'd like to think he knows Diluc enough to know that the man wouldn't resort to such tactics.

It's not really a point of trauma to have his strings pulled, but it does touch on a few sore spots of his. Even his conversation with Zhongli so many months ago hadn't done much to alleviate his distaste for that particular method of coercion, as evidenced by how he'd snapped on Scaramouche earlier.

That doesn't mean that he enjoys it any less, however. Speaking openly about his feelings is just something he doesn't do, not unless it involved how much he enjoyed the thrill of the fight or his boastful, open claims of power. ]

I don't think I avoided anything. I gave you an answer, it just doesn't seem like one you wanted to hear.

What you gave me was a deflection. Don't think I don't recognise one when I see one.

[After all, hasn't Diluc spent the last several months in Mondstadt neatly dodging questions as to where he has been and what he has been doing for the last four years? About why he left in the first place? Very few people know the whole story.

Though Childe is right - it isn't quite a blunt attempt to simply get him to repeat what he said. Diluc is still trying to make sense of it in his mind, why this man would say something like that and mean it, and the most obvious conclusion to come to is that he was simply lying to mess with Diluc's head at the time. That it was just... something he said to make an already charged situation even more difficult to navigate.

But he doesn't feel like that's it.

There were any number of actual answers Childe could have given to what Diluc had said, but what he had chosen instead was to deflect the question entirely. That's telling in and of itself.]

What is it that you think I want to hear?

[Because surely he can't think that the idea of a Fatui Harbinger holding any kind of genuine fondness towards him is even close to something Diluc would actually desire.]

I assume we're still aiming for a certain amount of honesty with one another. That did seem to be something that you wanted from me.

If I were any kind of mind reader, Diluc, my job would be a lot easier.

[ Speaking of his work with the Northland Bank, of course. It didn't really detract much from his usual "punch first, ask questions later" but it would make the punching a lot quicker if he knew someone was lying to him right away. Perhaps that more than anything is why he didn't prefer the underhanded scheming and the manipulative tactics of his fellow Harbingers - or maybe there was simply no love lost between them. There's truth in both statements, really.

The cafe is a good enough distraction if he chooses to go that route, but he hadn't been lying when he'd said he was fond of Diluc. Didn't he owe it to him to give him an answer despite his apparent discomfort? Were they close enough that he felt justified in it? ]

What do you want me to say? I thought the world was going to reset. It seemed like a good idea at the time.

[ It's not completely untrue - but nor is it really the truth, either. ]

If I hated you, you'd be dead.

[Despite himself he does let out a quiet chuff of amusement at that. Does he think, truthfully, that Childe could actually kill him if they fully came to blows? It's not really a boast that he doesn't think so, though perhaps enough harm could be done that it might be close to the same thing.]

I have never expected you to hate me. [A small shrug at that. Does he expect the strength of his own feeling to be reciprocated by the Fatui elite? Of course not. That would require caring about him in any way at all and he believes that he was, for a time, only an incredibly irritating thorn in their side. Enough for them to dub him a persona non grata, though being worth anything to them means nothing to Diluc regardless.]

I don't expect that any of the Harbingers despise me as much as I do them. I made enough of a nuisance of myself to get under their skin, though they still failed to get rid of me despite their efforts. [Even now he continues to harry at them, though far less directly than he used to.] But I have no delusions of grandeur with regards to how I perceive my level of importance to them.

['Them'. Despite currently speaking to one of the Harbingers, he still references them as something 'other'.]

... I'm not sure what I want you to say. [He goes on then, after a pause while his gaze slants away from the other man. Not some silly thing about if he hated him. They both know that isn't the case.] It still doesn't make any sense to me. But what I said was not said because I was under the assumption that you wouldn't remember it. Make of that what you will.

Edited 2022-01-15 16:03 (UTC)

[ The air between them suddenly feels charged, oppressive, not with the promise of a looming battle but with something he can't quite place. It's not so much terrifying as it is unnerving, pulling a sense of restless unease out of him that he isn't sure how to deal with at first.

Is he uncomfortable? Is that what it is? He's not so sure.

Fighting with Diluc would have been far less complicated than whatever this is going on between them. Childe isn't sure what he himself wants, isn't sure if he wants to pursue this to anything more than what it already is, if he isn't so sure he wouldn't enjoy simply never seeing the other again. There'd been a bond between them - he'd felt it break as well as Diluc had, after all - but why?

It's much too complex for his liking. If he knew at all how to shatter bonds himself he would probably suggest it so they could be rid of each other and go back to other, less complicated things. ]

It almost feels like you wanted me to.

[ To the rest of what he says, though, Childe offers nothing in response. He's not so distracted that he doesn't catch the way that Diluc refers to them as if they were a separate entity, but he's not sure how to feel about it.

There's another slow, creeping roll of thunder overhead. His attention instantly piqued, Childe glances over to the door they'd entered just in time for it to open with the arrival of another guest. From his vantage point he can see the flash of lightning and he imagines he can smell the ozone in the air, the impending signs of an oncoming storm. ]

I should probably go.

No.

[Maybe things would have been easier, simpler, if they had just hated one another with equal ferocity. Maybe he would have preferred that over the complicated tangle that they had ended up with. Even if Diluc had wanted to he has seen Childe vulnerable too many times to hate him, and has seen sides of him that - although he struggles to admit it - he could come to like.

It would have been easier if Childe hated him, but Diluc can't say that it would have been something that he would have wanted. Something he would have expected, accepted, yes. But wanted? Diluc isn't the kind of person to actively want to be hated. His level of bitterness over his past doesn't cut him quite that deeply.

He glances at the door when Childe does, but doesn't keep his attention there for long. The other man's words draw him back, and he finds himself struck by a thought that's almost amusing in its absurdity.

It's pure, unbridled impulse that has him reaching one hand over the table, placing it on top of Childe's and shifting the side of his thumb just a little against the soft patch between his thumb and forefinger. His other forearm takes his weight against the edge of the table, just slightly.]

You're beginning to make a bad habit of walking away from me, Childe. [And he does wonder why, when he couldn't seem to get rid of him before.] Is there something about me that you've started to find unsettling?

[ Of all the things Diluc could have said or done in the moment, Childe hadn't been expecting that.

The hand over his is bad enough, layering his skin with a warmth that bleeds into his bones, sending an unnatural, unwarranted thrill racing along his spine. The expression that takes over his face is much different than the usual self-assured look he wears, the widening of his eyes and the uncertainty suddenly flooding their depths making him look the furthest from one of the Tsaritsa's ruthless Harbingers.

It's in this moment that he looks very much like the man that he should have been, without the need for chaos and his persistent drive for power that were staples of his personality.

Even more incriminating is the flush that suddenly suffuses under his skin, a redness blooming just under his cheeks and bleeding over to the tips of his ears. When Diluc shifts his thumb against his skin, Childe gives a full body jerk with a noise that comes out as a mixture of a gasp and something strained.

It's all the prompting he needs to snatch his hand away and stand up, kicking his chair back perhaps a little too hard and sending it back loud enough to draw attention to the rough scraping of wood on wood.

If he's intending to leave, he doesn't - not yet. Instead, he's just gaping at the other man, the expression on his face equal parts lost and confused and with the blush deepening to almost-permanence on his face. ]

[There's a lot about Childe's reaction to that small gesture that comes as an unexpected surprise. His expression is like nothing Diluc has ever seen him wear, the uncertainty stripping him back to something that the Mondstadt man does not know and yet somehow still recognises. It's the blush, though, that he notices all the more as red flushes across the young Harbinger's face and while Diluc was very much aware that his action would produce a response he didn't think that it would be such a strong one.

The sound of the chair scraping back makes him jump more than anything else. A few patrons glance their way, but quickly go back to their own drinks.

Diluc does not move. He says nothing at first, either. He only draws his hand back across the table and clasps the both of them in front of him, lifting him up to prop his chin lightly against his intertwined fingers.]

Will you sit back down? [Funny, how he doesn't speak as if he's aware of having the upper hand. Diluc's voice stays soft and level, almost gentle if such a thing could ever be applied to his interactions with Childe, and he nods his head slightly to the chair.]

Please.

[ It's almost a crime how long the staff member is taking to return with Diluc's tea, but he imagines he wouldn't notice if he weren't currently fighting for his life in the middle of a restaurant.

It strikes him that if they'd met in Teyvat their relationship might not be so complicated. Childe's loyalties lay where they lay and there wouldn't have been any outside forces at work conspiring against them to bring them together time and time again. It's almost infuriating, really, and is just one more reason for him to miss home.

He thinks he can still feel the warmth of Diluc's hand over his own, bleeding heat into his skin and just the thought of callused fingers brushing over his own makes shivers race up and down his spine again, his body reacting in the only way it knows how after being in a place that indulged him heavily in sensation.

It would be easy to turn and leave. To let Diluc have his tea, his space, his thoughts, but it feels like too much like a cowardly retreat to sit well with him and it's that more than anything that ultimately has him sitting back down.

Interesting enough, the redness on his ears hasn't faded. ]

[If they were still in Teyvat would they have ever met at all? Childe had his own work, his own path, and Diluc had his. No doubt they would simply remain peripherally aware of one another and never truly cross paths in person. And wouldn't that have been far easier? Of course, but Nippon does not seem inclined towards letting things happen easily.

Despite his cool demeanour Diluc can feel his heart racing, thudding in his chest in response to the reaction that simple touch to the hand had provoked in Childe. He doesn't want that, but it happens regardless.

He doesn't really expect that the other man will sit down and when he does the moment of surprises flashes across his expression quite clearly. It's within moments that the tea arrives - perhaps the person who was bringing it had felt that weight in the air and thought it best to see how the scene played out. Diluc never brought other people in here with him after all.

Diluc adjusts the cup, using it as a momentary distraction to gather his thoughts.]

That was impudent of me. Please accept my apologies.

[ There are a number of things he can say to that, he knows. It's not as if it'd been accidental - even if it had, he imagines the brush of Diluc's thumb over his hand hadn't been, the gesture far too intimate and familiar to be anything but purposeful - and he finds himself fighting an internal war with himself over whether or not he should try and fight fire with fire.

It doesn't help he knows little about what sets Diluc off in that way, something he's going to have to rectify in the very near future. ]

I didn't know you resorted to dirty tricks. Clearly I've underestimated you.

[ It lacks the venom that it would usually be delivered in, which is remarkable by itself; Diluc had apparently thrown him off more than he's used to. The tea smells nice, at least, and Childe takes a moment to appreciate the aroma and the scent of the brew along with the steam rising just out of the cup. ]

I hope you understand when I say I'll have to ask you not to do it again.

An often deadly mistake. You should be thankful I didn't press my advantage.

[His voice stays light as he replies. It's almost the same tone he used when they had been under the influence of those strange deer in Nara. He can tell without needing to pry that he had shaken the other man more than either of them had thought he would, and for now he takes a very simple satisfaction in that fact.]

Consider it our secret. [Not really an answer or promise either way, but all he seems inclined to give before he picks up his tea and takes a small, careful sip of the scalding liquid.]

I don't think I've given you reason to think I can't be trusted before now.

[ He's not sure how to take it, this sort of light, witty banter between them where it feels like Diluc's the only one coming out on top. It only adds another element to the weirdly charged energy between them, but to his credit Diluc doesn't lord his apparent advantage over him and even apologizes for touching him like that.

Childe won't admit that he didn't actually mind it, but he doubts Diluc sees him in that light and he's not going to go chasing after someone that isn't interested. Their relationship is weird enough. ]

You haven't. [ He reaffirms, after a pregnant pause. The tension in his shoulders leaves his body in a soft, airy sigh, and he takes another look around the cafe as the next rumble of thunder overhead heralds the oncoming approach of another storm. ]

It's going to rain soon. Think the trains'll go down again?

[Diluc keeps his eyes closed for several long seconds, the rim of the cup resting lightly against his lower lip. He keeps his eyes closed and feels everything else. The tea is herbal touched with orange and tingles at the back of his nose as he breathes it in. The room is warm and comfortable. The soft hum of chatter around them is broken only by Childe speaking to him and the low rumbles of an unsettled sky outside the door.

The redhead sighs, slow and soft, and opens his eyes again to look across at the other man.

This relationship between them is strange. It's been strange from the very beginning, when even though he had a prime opportunity to do so Diluc had refused to kill him through... what, some misguided sense of decency and honour, as if that kind of thing really mattered when dealing with somebody who he didn't think would offer him the same respect in return?

Over time he had come to know Childe as more of an individual person in spite of his desire to not know him at all. They were pushed together in ways that would never have occurred in Teyvat, and ways that had nurtured their connection to each other without either of their knowledge. He can still feel the sting of the bond breaking when he thinks about it.

He doesn't hate Childe. He still wants to. Still feels like he ought to. Still blames him, on some level, for everything that had gone wrong in his own life thanks to the interference of the Fatui in his family. Blames him in the same way he would blame any single member of that group and their blind devotion to their leader.

But he doesn't hate Childe.]

I don't know. [He glances at the window beside them, misty with condensation.] There are enough places to stay if they do.

[And they both know of at least one.

Diluc lowers his eyes again and sips his tea, letting the flavour sit on his tongue for a moment before he swallows it.]

When you said that you-- [He cuts himself off. Tilts his head, as if considering.] It was the truth, wasn't it. All of it.

[ It's easy for the rest of the chatter to fall away around them, easy to hone in on Diluc's words and listen to the way every syllable sounds spilling out of his mouth. There's no traces of irritation in his tone, nothing that would suggest he finds his present company abhorrent. Nor is there any friendly, warm notes of familiarity and genuine affection in his voice, and it's then that Childe thinks that maybe he's reading too into things.

Is that an indication that he wants there to be something more? Or is he just looking for something to latch onto, something that would help give him leverage to goad the other into a fight?

Diluc's question hangs in the air, but he doesn't imagine it's much of a question at all. It's obvious the redhead's looking for some kind of validation and Childe, still unsure of where they stand with each other, almost doesn't want to give it to him.

Eventually his response comes on the heels of a soft laugh; he's looking at Diluc, considering his expression, wondering if there's a specific answer the man is looking for. ]

I don't lie. [ Would manipulation, deception, scheming all fall under that same category? If there was a necessity for it, perhaps. But if anything he mostly just withheld information until such time that it needed to be revealed, dodged the subjects with little half-truths that didn't give away everything that needed to be said.

It's a paltry excuse, but maybe Diluc would understand. ]

No matter what you think of me. You just have to know what questions to ask.

['I don't lie', he says, and Diluc manages to resist the urge to reflexively laugh. While it does answer the question he asked, there's a kind of naivety in the response that's almost endearing. Childe seems to see the world in such plain terms and he can absolutely believe that the young man thinks he doesn't lie.

Everyone lies.

Does taking in the indoctrination of the Fatui to such a degree that it becomes a personal mantra and then speaking it as if it truth count as lying? Perhaps. He can hardly call Childe out for dodging subjects and withholding information when he does it too (well, he could, but that would get them nowhere). Even their reasons for doing so are... similar, in a way, Diluc suspects.

He still doesn't like being able to draw similarities between himself and the Harbinger, but he finds himself not rejecting the thought quite as strongly as he had been doing at first.]

We're not so different in that way. [The redhead admits, though he says it so quietly it could be missed. He shifts his cup into one hand and looks at the window beside them, and after a moment of thought he draws a small six-sailed windmill in the condensation with the tip of his finger.] Maybe in more ways than that.

[ Somehow, he's not surprised at the admission. That's just another piece to the puzzle, and something that eases his mind just a little bit more.

Diluc is soon enough preoccupied with his tea and that leaves Childe room to navigate his thoughts. It's slight, but the air between them seems less charged, more tolerable and welcome by far the longer they spend in another's company. Perhaps it's some twisted kind of exposure therapy, or maybe it's the small understandings they seem to be reaching without trying very hard. ]

You didn't seem like the type to lie. Just very careful about the way you speak so as not to give anything away.

[ And it's true enough, especially since Childe can't think of anything he knows about Diluc on a personal level. He has an inkling that the man is fond of sweets from the first time they'd ever dined together, knows that he was an adorable child so very long ago. He also knows that the redhead doesn't like anybody walking behind him, which was something he could also understand. The difference between them, however, was that Childe would take it as an open invitation to fight instead. ]

Does it bother you?

[For all that Childe is feeling in the air between them, Diluc feels strangely placid. There's no sense of anything being tense or charged - after all, either of them could get up and leave any time they wanted to - and it's helping with keeping him feeling relatively comfortable in the situation. Childe knows well enough that if Diluc did not still want to be sitting here, he would not be sitting here. How many times has he watched the redhead's back as he walked away?

His gaze flicks up when the other man speaks again, his eyes steady on Childe's for a moment. Unwavering. Does it bother him?

Rather than answer on impulse, he considers his reply.]

... No.

[Does he like it? No, he doesn't like it, but it isn't something that he would say is bothering him. He tilts his head slightly as he answers and his eyes drop to the table.]

It should, I suppose. But no, it doesn't bother me. [He sighs then, leaning back in his seat. A wry smile tugs at one corner of his mouth.] It's funny, though. It could have been so easy for us to have been friends, if not for... [A small gestures goes to Childe's... general person.]

You know.

[ The expression that crosses his face is at first a little hard to read, calculating and perhaps a little shrewd. It's as if he doesn't expect that Diluc is being honest with him, that he's expecting the redhead to show his other hand and there'll be a metaphorical knife in it. It doesn't come, of course, and the way his gaze shifts is perhaps surprising in how soft and fond it comes across. It's not a look he wears very often, and definitely not with Diluc.

He's imagining how it could have been between them, if not for all this. It's hard; without his conscription into the Fatui he doubts he would have ever left the borders of Snezhnaya. His father's tales of adventure could only do so much for a shy, frightened boy who felt the pressure of living up to his namesake at every turn.

Maybe they'd meet in Mondstadt. Diluc technically owned a winery, didn't he? Childe might have gone into the trade business in an effort to travel and see the world, plying his wares and the benefits of Snezhnayan fire-water to the different cities. Perhaps he'd be intimidated by him, especially if Diluc had the sort of confidence he had now. Childe can only imagine how the Mondstadt man effortlessly commanded a room, ruthlessly broad and unyielding and with the kind of weight that could pin him to the ground of his vinery effortlessly, mouth slotted over his own as the birds chirped in the trees above and drowning him with so much heat --

By the time he realizes what path his thoughts are taking it's already too late, and he jerks himself out of his kizuna-induced daydreaming with a jolt that bangs his leg on the corner of the table and sends pain lancing throughout his knee. It's not exactly subtle. ]

Fuck--

✵ [Jan Catchall] Hope is not pretending that troubles don't exist.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

sticks a bow on this