‍ ‍ 𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒅—𝒎𝒂𝒏’𝒔 ‍ *𝙲𝙾𝚄𝚁𝚃𝚈𝙰𝚁𝙳.

these wo͟r͟ds of mine ⎯⎯𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑣𝑒 them onto stones⠀ ／⠀ 𝒔acred 𝒔criptures of a 𝗺̶𝗮̶𝗻̶ hidden beneath layers of 𝓪blazed 𝙼𝙰𝙽𝙸𝙰.

[‍ ‍ 𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒅—𝒎𝒂𝒏’𝒔 ‍ *𝙲𝙾𝚄𝚁𝚃𝚈𝙰𝚁𝙳. @lucvindr]

⠀ ⠀𝙼𝙾𝚁𝙸𝙴𝙽𝚂 ⠀ ❪ ♱ ❫ ⠀ 𝙵𝙰𝚅𝙸𝙻𝙻𝙰
⠀⠀ like a 𝑟𝑎𝑓𝑓𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑖𝑎, ⠀ he 𝓫lo̶o̶ms
⠀ flourishing from c𝒐rpses’ p𝒐res
⠀ ma͟g͟n͟ificent, mo͟r͟b͟id, 𝒑𝒂͟𝒓͟𝒂͟𝒔͟𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒄.

[ᅠ🂱𑜝ᅠv𖦹̲ilàᅠיִ⃔ᅠ @tourdemagic]

⠀
⠀⠀every⠀⠀ 𝗽̲𝗲𝗿𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗺𝗮𝗻𝗰̲𝗲⠀⠀ is⠀⠀ a⠀⠀ rehearsal
⠀⠀for⠀⠀ something⠀⠀ far⠀⠀ less⃔⠀⠀ 𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗴𝗶𝘃𝗮𝗯𝗹̲𝗲⠀.
⠀

[ᅠᅠᅠᅠ ᅠ＊𐀔 @foxrator]

⠀
DO ⠀ ⠀ YOUR ⠀ ⠀ WOᖇ𝐒𝐓⠀ ⠀ ރ ⠀ ⠀ MASTER ⠀ ⠀ 𝐅𝐎𝐗⠀ ⠀ (ִֶָ 𐀔 )⠀ ⠀—⠀ ( .. )

[‍ ‍ 𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒅—𝒎𝒂𝒏’𝒔 ‍ *𝙲𝙾𝚄𝚁𝚃𝚈𝙰𝚁𝙳. @lucvindr]

an ironic complaint, coming from you.

[ᅠ*͟𓅆 ┈ ̷ᵗʰᵉ ゛ዞ𝙴.𐍂ᵉ𝐓͟𝗶͟𝗖͟ @cmediadellart]

ᅠ   
ᅠ      always absurdly loud.
ᅠ

[‍ ‍ 𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒅—𝒎𝒂𝒏’𝒔 ‍ *𝙲𝙾𝚄𝚁𝚃𝚈𝙰𝚁𝙳. @lucvindr]

new harvest of grapes. why not try some for yourself?

[‍ ‍ 𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒅—𝒎𝒂𝒏’𝒔 ‍ *𝙲𝙾𝚄𝚁𝚃𝚈𝙰𝚁𝙳. @lucvindr]

and for words to be more audible over the howling of wind. )

[‍ ‍ 𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒅—𝒎𝒂𝒏’𝒔 ‍ *𝙲𝙾𝚄𝚁𝚃𝚈𝙰𝚁𝙳. @lucvindr]

don't get ahead of yourself, now. ( mirth is only captured in the way corner of eyes take a gentler form, a tolerance reserved only for the jests of a keen soldier. observance is generous when it comes to the other, immortalising

[‍ ‍‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ ‍⊹ ‍ ‍ ͟𝐁𖧷D͙┄ ͜ᴰ̶𝑜𝖌． ↓͟༢ @enpiety]

⠀
an impressive feat， isn't it﹖ ❨ laughter bubbled in his throat as strangulation of the highest affections， dismantled by a mere palm to lips. ❩ ah———you remember﹖ a prize catch， as i call it. the dish itself uses
⠀

[‍ ‍ 𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒅—𝒎𝒂𝒏’𝒔 ‍ *𝙲𝙾𝚄𝚁𝚃𝚈𝙰𝚁𝙳. @lucvindr]

see your family again. are they expecting you? ( caution is heeded, thick coat barricading the chilling cold. palm now tightens against other's, fingers seeking refuge between as he tugs him closer. both to rein back other's straying,

[Pearl @pearlgodaymen]

#Diluc 🍓

[‍ ‍ 𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒅—𝒎𝒂𝒏’𝒔 ‍ *𝙲𝙾𝚄𝚁𝚃𝚈𝙰𝚁𝙳. @lucvindr]

onto reported sightings, true form of beast to be revealed as he approaches.

[‍ ‍ 𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒅—𝒎𝒂𝒏’𝒔 ‍ *𝙲𝙾𝚄𝚁𝚃𝚈𝙰𝚁𝙳. @lucvindr]

he is no stranger to a disrupted night. most nights, such as disturbance is brought upon by his own hands, but on other nights, slumber is frequented by alert and that of lurking threats.

a hand runs through tousled locks, now messily

[‍ ‍ 𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒅—𝒎𝒂𝒏’𝒔 ‍ *𝙲𝙾𝚄𝚁𝚃𝚈𝙰𝚁𝙳. @lucvindr]

are held between teeth. a curt glance is spared into the distance, pinpointing chilling howls as winery is left behind.

such incident has only furthered dissatisfaction, expression dimming with lingering austere. soon, he would close in

[‍ ‍ 𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒅—𝒎𝒂𝒏’𝒔 ‍ *𝙲𝙾𝚄𝚁𝚃𝚈𝙰𝚁𝙳. @lucvindr]

( a prolonged pause, digesting the topic at hand with hesitation. certainly not the vintner's first choice. )

there are eyes on you, unlike how it was with me.

[‍ ‍ 𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒅—𝒎𝒂𝒏’𝒔 ‍ *𝙲𝙾𝚄𝚁𝚃𝚈𝙰𝚁𝙳. @lucvindr]

( drink is served, with or without captain's obligation. still, the mixture demonstrates a practised expertise, a concoction that has grown familiar to both his hands. ) i do. at least, up until the conclusion of my duties.

[𝙰𝐋𝖇ᴱ𐍂𝐈C𝚑 @frostkist]

⠀⠀（ flutter of ebony lashes with eyeroll ／ brims jutted with pout. he's no stranger to late nights ＆ earlier mornings； in fact， dancing that fine line is his specialty. ）

[‍ ‍ 𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒅—𝒎𝒂𝒏’𝒔 ‍ *𝙲𝙾𝚄𝚁𝚃𝚈𝙰𝚁𝙳. @lucvindr]

"... diluc, owner of dawn winery. you may be familiar, given we have imports to nod—krai's local bars. you seem to be enjoying our dandelion wine, flins."

[‍ ‍ 𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒅—𝒎𝒂𝒏’𝒔 ‍ *𝙲𝙾𝚄𝚁𝚃𝚈𝙰𝚁𝙳. @lucvindr]

on the contrary, diluc handles the situation with poise, or rather, a lack of concern with other's perception. foreign visitor could very well have misaligned expectations. it isn't the first, and certainly won't be the last.

[︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ☽ ︎ ︎ ︎ @faesorrow]

the moment diluc turned around and realization slowly hit the fae, his eyebrows raised in pure shock. well, that’s one way to meet someone new…

he sat down despite that embarrassment of an introduction, focus still aimed at the redhead.

“… it seems i’ve made a mistake. —

[‍ ‍ 𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒅—𝒎𝒂𝒏’𝒔 ‍ *𝙲𝙾𝚄𝚁𝚃𝚈𝙰𝚁𝙳. @lucvindr]

／ i need to write more diluc interacting with characters who literally would never meet him otherwise because all these dynamics have been robbed from me

[‍ ‍ 𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒅—𝒎𝒂𝒏’𝒔 ‍ *𝙲𝙾𝚄𝚁𝚃𝚈𝙰𝚁𝙳. @lucvindr]

will that change your answer.ᐣ ( light scoff, a reprimand of harbinger's endless questioning. ) ... yes. yes you are.

[‍ ‍‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ ‍⊹ ‍ ‍ ͟𝐁𖧷D͙┄ ͜ᴰ̶𝑜𝖌． ↓͟༢ @enpiety]

⠀
ah. ❨ the glass lingered within grasp， digits rasping at the corrugated edge； not... the 𝑓irewater he was expecting. ❩ am i the first one to try this﹖
⠀

[‍ ‍ 𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒅—𝒎𝒂𝒏’𝒔 ‍ *𝙲𝙾𝚄𝚁𝚃𝚈𝙰𝚁𝙳. @lucvindr]

gash to the knight's side, leaning to exercise pressure against blood flow.

"keep breathing. what's the name of your grandmaster?"

[‍ ‍ 𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒅—𝒎𝒂𝒏’𝒔 ‍ *𝙲𝙾𝚄𝚁𝚃𝚈𝙰𝚁𝙳. @lucvindr]

actions expedited before any pointless small talk is mustered, vice captain speaks an awful lot for someone who is fighting against an active wound. seems to be the trait of many knights. blood is halted by a heavy hand pressed against

[ᅟ* ̲ 𓉸ྀྀ . .͟▌ᅟ ⃰ 𝚕𝑜̸̈ͯ̈ₕ 𝓮͟ 𝔫 . ⃕ ♱ @wornsoath]

palpitations drums in ears 𖬺͟ fingers twitches, feeble in his way, adrenaline subsiding and giving place to the aftermath of his reckless behaviour. “a hand would be nice,” hm. lohen is not one to accept aid regarding own wounds,