[ the innkeeper glances behind him and kaeya follows her gaze, half turning in his seat to get a good look at the man now coming to stand next to him. from his lower vantage point he catches sight of black armored boots first, then sweeps his gaze up, taking mental notes as he goes - up towards the night-patterned cape, up towards the dark blue emblem that rings oddly familiar, up towards the striking mask, up towards the widening eyes with their unmistakable starry pupils--
the coin he'd been idly running over his knuckles drops to the floor from suddenly numb fingers; he barely hears the clattering over the sound of rushing blood to his ears, the thunder of his heart rattling his ribs. he's dreaming. he must be. there is no other explanation for what's standing before him now.
abruptly, he's thrown back to a memory from many months ago: the darknight hero seeking him out of his own initiative, a rare enough situation that kaeya had been instantly on guard for the worst - but the surprise there had been nothing compared to what diluc had said next. 'there was a masked man in the tavern,' he'd said, mouth thin in an uneasy line. 'he had eyes. like yours.'
it had been like lightning striking him from a clear blue sky. it was impossible. there should be only one other living person in all of modern teyvat with the distinct starry pupils of a long dead land, and if his erstwhile father had wandered into angel's share, diluc would have damn well noticed a lot more similarities between the two of them beyond just their eyes. further questioning had gotten him nowhere in figuring out just what hell was going on - and so he'd sent out his network to try to track the man down, and when they'd come back with nothing, he'd...left it at that.
it wasn't cowardice, he'd told himself, just practicality. unusual pupils were nothing new in teyvat - chances were diluc had simply mistaken the shape in the dim lighting of the tavern. and even if he hadn't, even if by some hideous miracle there was one more uncursed khaenri'an walking around than accounted for, well...he'd hardly want to draw their attention to a false hope in form of a lost dynasty, would he? best to just let it die quietly; this world was a vast one, after all, and it would take some twist of fate for two people across miles and miles of land and ocean and sky to ever stumble into each other's paths.
(the lie had tasted bitter on his tongue, even then.)
what a joke, what a fool he was for believing even for a second that he could avoid the whims of fate. of course that mysterious figure would show now, months after there'd been zero signs of him, months after kaeya had tried to push its existence from his mind. and what's worse is that - he knows that face. blond and blue-eyed had been plenty common in his homeland, but even behind a mask, even across a decade of memories, five centuries of time, he knows--
information. he needs more information. he's already given too much away as it is gaping like a slack-jawed idiot, too much visible shock on his face to excuse as mere confusion at the man's odd attire. snapping his mouth shut, he pulls himself together as best he can and smiles, letting the words float by over his head with no sign of recognition - words spoken in the language of the dead and the sinners, the language he still sometimes dreams in. ]
Mysterious indeed. [ he leans back casually against the bar, gesturing at the seat next to him. ] Well, as one foreigner to another, won't you let me buy you a drink? You look like you could have some interesting stories to tell, and I'm always in the mood for entertainment.
no subject
the coin he'd been idly running over his knuckles drops to the floor from suddenly numb fingers; he barely hears the clattering over the sound of rushing blood to his ears, the thunder of his heart rattling his ribs. he's dreaming. he must be. there is no other explanation for what's standing before him now.
abruptly, he's thrown back to a memory from many months ago: the darknight hero seeking him out of his own initiative, a rare enough situation that kaeya had been instantly on guard for the worst - but the surprise there had been nothing compared to what diluc had said next. 'there was a masked man in the tavern,' he'd said, mouth thin in an uneasy line. 'he had eyes. like yours.'
it had been like lightning striking him from a clear blue sky. it was impossible. there should be only one other living person in all of modern teyvat with the distinct starry pupils of a long dead land, and if his erstwhile father had wandered into angel's share, diluc would have damn well noticed a lot more similarities between the two of them beyond just their eyes. further questioning had gotten him nowhere in figuring out just what hell was going on - and so he'd sent out his network to try to track the man down, and when they'd come back with nothing, he'd...left it at that.
it wasn't cowardice, he'd told himself, just practicality. unusual pupils were nothing new in teyvat - chances were diluc had simply mistaken the shape in the dim lighting of the tavern. and even if he hadn't, even if by some hideous miracle there was one more uncursed khaenri'an walking around than accounted for, well...he'd hardly want to draw their attention to a false hope in form of a lost dynasty, would he? best to just let it die quietly; this world was a vast one, after all, and it would take some twist of fate for two people across miles and miles of land and ocean and sky to ever stumble into each other's paths.
(the lie had tasted bitter on his tongue, even then.)
what a joke, what a fool he was for believing even for a second that he could avoid the whims of fate. of course that mysterious figure would show now, months after there'd been zero signs of him, months after kaeya had tried to push its existence from his mind. and what's worse is that - he knows that face. blond and blue-eyed had been plenty common in his homeland, but even behind a mask, even across a decade of memories, five centuries of time, he knows--
information. he needs more information. he's already given too much away as it is gaping like a slack-jawed idiot, too much visible shock on his face to excuse as mere confusion at the man's odd attire. snapping his mouth shut, he pulls himself together as best he can and smiles, letting the words float by over his head with no sign of recognition - words spoken in the language of the dead and the sinners, the language he still sometimes dreams in. ]
Mysterious indeed. [ he leans back casually against the bar, gesturing at the seat next to him. ] Well, as one foreigner to another, won't you let me buy you a drink? You look like you could have some interesting stories to tell, and I'm always in the mood for entertainment.