Diluc Ragnvindr

Eyes averted as Venti leaned back against the wine racks, his own arms folded to his chest as he considered how best to phrase what he was asking. Even if he was looking to Diluc for help here, he wasn’t ultimately too sure how much the man would even know. Much less if he wanted to be the source of the man learning of something deemed so terrible that it had been seemingly wiped from history itself. He didn’t much like being the bearer of bad news, particularly when he knew so little about it to begin with. 

Was there even a point to this?

What would some low-level Fatui grunts even know?

But again, this was Diluc. Who knew how pervasive his information network was? How far exactly had he infiltrated the Fatui? 

Sighing in a mixture of uncertainty and frustration alike, the bard’s eyes shifted back to Diluc before panning away once more, the thought occurring to him of how easy it would be to simply drop this here and say he’d simply come for the wine (which would have been the truth, at least initially).

“Its not….. Naturally they’d pledge their loyalty and all that, that’s, not really what I’m looking for…”

But what was he looking for? Did his answers even exist?

“Have you ever…. I don’t know… asked anyone about her though? About how she is? As an Archon?”

He wouldn’t have blamed Diluc if he came out of this more confused than before. Truthfully Venti wasn’t even sure what exactly he was asking here. Current events had simply rekindled some of his older feelings of confusion, and, if he was honest, mourning. The mourning of someone he had once thought he knew quite well and now…. 

Now he didn’t feel like he knew much of anything. 

Eyes remain firmly on the archon. Regardless of who, exactly, was asking the question-- he refused to see the individual as anyone else in this moment. Remained resolute in treating and respecting him as the Archon that, from a glance, harbored some sort of melancholy in regards to the Tsaritsa. What that entailed, and why it existed, he was almost certain he would never discover. He respected the gods responsible for shaping the world, providing lands for them to live on, and gifting them with Visions to use-- but at the end of the day, he was still a man. Incapable of stepping into the world of a god, and grateful for it. What they did, the business that they conducted and the information that they learned, he would have no part in it.

To some degree.

All he cared about was the protection of Monstadt and its people; nothing more. If he needed to fight a god or two to continue protecting it, then he would do so without hesitation.

“Have I ever inquired about the status of the Archon and how she behaves? The role that she plays within her own lands?” He sighs gently, sensing that something was amiss, but choosing to - instead - bite down on the question of ‘wouldn’t you know best?’

In truth, the fact that Venti didn’t have the answers to these questions was...a bit of a relief. He had heard a thing or two about her, all of which he neither approved of nor respected, and knowing that his Archon was not in quiet cahoots with her was...comforting. In its own right.

What a strangely sweet thing for the man to say. Really Venti could never quite discern if he was in Master Diluc’s good graces or bad, particularly given the strange sort of openness that had been fostered between them ever since the Dvalin incident. It was normally so easy to keep the two parts of his life separate, but now with Master Diluc and Acting Grand Master Jean being in-the-know, it muddied things a little. Not always in a bad way, but in a way that Venti wasn’t particularly used to these days. It was certainly nice having Jean look the other way on a few of his more questionable pranks, but, just like in this moment, he couldn’t help but wonder if Venti would have been met so reasonably then and now, or if the ‘Darknight Hero’ had stumbled upon the bard here and now in different circumstances, if he might have had a sword in hand, or perhaps a chain. 

He supposed it ultimately didn’t matter either way, and again, he wasn’t complaining, but he had always prided himself on living outside of his divine identity, Solving (and creating) his own problems outside of the need of having ‘Lord Barbatos’ descend upon Mondstadt and cause a commotion. 

Then again, it seemed he wasn’t entirely in the clear now anyway, Diluc calling his obvious bluff and bringing Venti back to the moment at hand, which he answered with a nervous little laugh. 

“Well, isn’t it obvious?! What better a place could there be for a secret rendezvous under the noses of everyone else?! The grass has ears and the sky is an eye Master Diluc, surely you know that all too well, yes~?”

Posturing and time-buying aside, Venti’s mind was working in overdrive to think of some divine quest he might have up his sleeve to mete out to the man who clearly didn’t believe him to have one anyway. Nothing, at least nothing convincing, came to mind, but…. something did click into place as he stared across the dark room at the other, a smaller frown forming to take the place of his smile as it turned out he did have something he’d like to speak to the man about. Something he’d been wondering for a good long while now. 

Maybe…. it was time he stopped approaching things alone, hadn’t the most recent victory shown that well enough? And… Diluc had always been more than trustworthy… so….maybe…

“I was wondering…. in the talks, you’ve had with the members of the Fatui, have any ever mentioned the Tsarista?”

Heaving out a sigh at the bard’s word vomit spewing forward for the sake of wasting time, the young man finds himself steadily losing his patience. If Venti was here to steal the wine, then he should just say so. Accept the consequences that came with the misguided act of stealing, and be on his way. Barbatos or not, so long as he stood before him adorning the personality of the bard named Venti, Diluc would continue to treat him as such. Would continue to punish him as such. The gods hadn’t killed him yet.

However, as he stands with arms folded across his chest, fully prepared to drag the boy clad in green, kicking and screaming, back to Monstadt so that Jean could properly deal with him,he finds himself momentarily-- surprised. Taken aback by the sudden seriousness that the bard exudes; even despite his carefree demeanor. 

“The Tsaritsa?” He repeats, a brow raising. 

What business would the Anemo Archon have with the Tsaritsa? No, perhaps this was the bard’s business? But even still, the question of ‘what’ still remained. 

Staring the other down for a moment or two, just long enough to remind himself that Venti was a trusted ally, Diluc lifts a hand lazily to gesture as he replies, “...I’ve heard a thing or two. They’re undeniably loyal to her, after all, so it’s rare that a conversation goes without mentioning her.”

A pause is given, before he asks, “What sort of information does a bard require about the Tsaritsa?”

“All currencies are placeholders and if you ask me, they merely complicate the simple more than anything. Music makes tavern-goers happy. Happy tavern-goers stay longer and spend more mora. Therefore, if I stay and play music you will have more mora for my having been here! It all works out, right? And I would be only too happy to play music for hours if say, I could have a drink on-hand while I worked. Sounds fair right?”

Asked someone to marry you? - Innocent

Kissed one of your friends? - Innocent

Danced on a table in a bar / tavern? - Innocent

Ever told a lie? - Guilty

Had feelings for someone you can’t have? - Innocent

Ever kissed someone of the same sex? - Innocent

Slept until 5pm? - Innocent

Fallen asleep at work / school? - Innocent

Held a snake? - Guilty

Worked at a fast food chain / restaurant? - Innocent

Stolen something? - Innocent

Been fired from a job? - Innocent

Done something you regret? - Guilty

Laughed until something you were drinking came out of your nose? - Innocent

Caught a snowflake on your tongue? - Innocent

Kissed in the rain? - Innocent

Sat on a rooftop? - Innocent

Kissed someone you shouldn’t have? - Innocent

Sang in the shower? - Innocent

Been pushed into a river with all your clothes on? - Once.

Shaved your head? - Innocent

Slept naked? - Innocent

Made a boyfriend / girlfriend cry? - Guilty

Still loved someone you shouldn’t? - Innocent

Have / had a tattoo? - Innocent

Liked someone, but will never tell who? - Innocent

Been too honest? - Guilty

Ruined a surprise? - Innocent

Been told that you’re beautiful by someone who totally meant what they said? - Guilty

Stalked someone? - Innocent

Thought about murder? - Innocent

Still have communication with your ex? - Innocent

How about mass murder? - Innocent

Cheated on someone? - Innocent

Gotten so angry that you cried? - Innocent

Tried to stay away from someone for their own good? - Innocent

Had a girlfriend / boyfriend? - Guilty

Standing in front of the bard, with arms folded tightly across his chest, he looks the individual up and down without moving so much as an inch. Instead, he remains between both his ‘guest’ and the door; ensuring that no quick exits were made for the sake of escaping a fair punishment.

“I believe we’ve had this discussion many times,” he begins, one hand shifting in the air to further empathize what he’s trying to say; the words cutting freely without remorse. “Something along the lines of how unwelcome a bard is within Angel’s Share or, more specifically, one bard.”

He sighs and continues with a narrowing of his eyes, “All of the commotion erupting from your announcement of buying the whole room a drink, even despite not holding a single piece of Mora on you, and then further trying to convince everyone that you are the Barbatos and thus throwing the room into chaos-- is exactly the reason bards aren’t welcome here.”

Stepping forward now and allowing his arms to fall, he extends a hand out and uncurls his fist around the rag within it. 

Testing.

Test.