[ They've acted this little play enough times before that Kaeya knows what to expect as he slowly strolls to where Mondstadt's local vigilante had last been spotted. Perhaps some trussed-up vagabonds ready to spend the night in the city's finest prison cells, or an alleyway devoid of any signs of life save for scorchmarks against the cobblestones that will have to be cleaned up before morning light. If he's lucky, he may even be able to catch the tail end of the Darknight Hero's battle from hidden within the shadows; the sight of all that passion and fury and flame so tightly tucked away beneath layers and layers of stiff rigidity these days, whirling in a dazzling dance of devastation, is well worth the price of admission.
It isn't often that his predictions miss the mark entirely. Usually he welcomes such interesting breaks from the expected, but Kaeya can't find any such thrill in him now as he stares at Diluc stumbling crooked against the walls, clumsy and ungainly in a way he hasn't seen in years.
He doesn't panic; the ability for shock had been numbed out of him long before he ever stepped foot in this strange land of grass and flowers, left behind in the sprawling underground caverns of his homeland. Ice instead of adrenaline floods through his veins, freezing time in this moment as he analyzes every detail of the tableau before him. His nose may not be able to detect pheromones, but it's perfectly functional otherwise, and what it tells him now is: no coppery tang of blood in the air, no stink of burnt flesh, just the distinct acrid smokiness from pyro magic and a faint spray of lakewater. The black clothing under the night sky hides any potential stains out of view, but the glow of moonlight casts those remarkable eyes into stark relief, a pair of embers blazing against the dark - sharp with irritation, no trace of the glazed confusion of a head wound to be found.
So then. An injury serious enough to send even the most reticent of warriors reeling on his feet - the aftermath of an electro attack perhaps, or a bad blow to the ankle or ribs - but nothing severe enough that needs to be addressed immediately. Nothing near fatal.
Time restarts. Kaeya breathes out the chill that had gathered in his lungs, vapor hanging in the air for a brief moment against his lips before it's blown away by the wind.
Let's see, how to handle this? He's almost tempted to save the poor guy some pride after an undoubtedly rough night and pretend he was never here, but then Diluc looks up and their gazes catch and hold, inevitably drawn even under the darkness of night. Ah well, mocking amusement it is then. Tucking his hands into his pockets, he casually saunters closer, a teasing smirk on his lips as his eye scans the other's body up and down for any further clues to the nature of his injuries. ]
Well, well. If it isn't the mysterious Darknight Hero, live in the flesh. [ The ridiculous moniker rolls off his tongue as if savoring a fine wine; Kaeya had spent weeks making sure the name caught on like wildfire amongst the citizens, and he considers every second well-spent. ] Such a shame I left my good cuffs at home.
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It isn't often that his predictions miss the mark entirely. Usually he welcomes such interesting breaks from the expected, but Kaeya can't find any such thrill in him now as he stares at Diluc stumbling crooked against the walls, clumsy and ungainly in a way he hasn't seen in years.
He doesn't panic; the ability for shock had been numbed out of him long before he ever stepped foot in this strange land of grass and flowers, left behind in the sprawling underground caverns of his homeland. Ice instead of adrenaline floods through his veins, freezing time in this moment as he analyzes every detail of the tableau before him. His nose may not be able to detect pheromones, but it's perfectly functional otherwise, and what it tells him now is: no coppery tang of blood in the air, no stink of burnt flesh, just the distinct acrid smokiness from pyro magic and a faint spray of lakewater. The black clothing under the night sky hides any potential stains out of view, but the glow of moonlight casts those remarkable eyes into stark relief, a pair of embers blazing against the dark - sharp with irritation, no trace of the glazed confusion of a head wound to be found.
So then. An injury serious enough to send even the most reticent of warriors reeling on his feet - the aftermath of an electro attack perhaps, or a bad blow to the ankle or ribs - but nothing severe enough that needs to be addressed immediately. Nothing near fatal.
Time restarts. Kaeya breathes out the chill that had gathered in his lungs, vapor hanging in the air for a brief moment against his lips before it's blown away by the wind.
Let's see, how to handle this? He's almost tempted to save the poor guy some pride after an undoubtedly rough night and pretend he was never here, but then Diluc looks up and their gazes catch and hold, inevitably drawn even under the darkness of night. Ah well, mocking amusement it is then. Tucking his hands into his pockets, he casually saunters closer, a teasing smirk on his lips as his eye scans the other's body up and down for any further clues to the nature of his injuries. ]
Well, well. If it isn't the mysterious Darknight Hero, live in the flesh. [ The ridiculous moniker rolls off his tongue as if savoring a fine wine; Kaeya had spent weeks making sure the name caught on like wildfire amongst the citizens, and he considers every second well-spent. ] Such a shame I left my good cuffs at home.