(psl) we all got secrets, so are you gonna keep it

[indolentaxe]

Everybody’s got something they're hiding
And the best secrets are the ones you don’t keep

[x]

Comments

3/3

[disdelusioned]

Diluc returns some time later to find Hilda several glasses deeper into the bottle, which she's currently examining with an uncharacteristically pensive expression. It takes her a few moments to realize she's no longer alone at the bar, and when she does she doesn't address him with her usual coquettish antagonism.

"Can I ask you something?" She doesn't wait for him to answer, slurring onward. "Where did you come up with the name for the Dawn Winery?"

The question takes him aback--it's common knowledge and has been for longer than he's been alive, and it takes a few moments for him to realize that her question is sincere. She's still learning the nation's history and lore, and therefore doesn't have the frame of reference. "It's named after an ancestor, the Dawn Knight. The name has been in use for generations now."

The title seems to jog something in Hilda's memory, recognition lighting in her eyes. "Oh right, Vennessa and all that." And then, just as quickly, the light seems to go out as her gaze falls back to the label. "I know Mondstadt's history has its dark part, but that all seems so... distant, you know?"

"How do you mean?" Diluc knows the probing question is unkind. That he should cut her off and see her home. But her façade is slipping in her inebriation, and this may be the only opportunity he gets to get into that head of hers and see what is going on. He refuses to squander it.

If Hilda realizes what he's doing, she doesn't show it. "We called what we fought for 'Fódlan's New Dawn.'" That doesn't answer his question, exactly, but he lets her keep talking rather than interrupt her line of thought to point that much out. "A better world, without all of the..." She pauses, twirling a hand in circles as she searches for the world. Ultimately, she gives up. "Everything bad in it. And I get letters from Claude, and the Professor, and Marianne." That last name in that list isn't any more of a surprise to hear as the first two. She's Margavine Edmund, a longtime friend of Hilda's and by all accounts a just and compassionate leader. "They say things in Fódlan are great and that they wish I had stayed to see it. But..." She sighs heavily, her expression grim. "There's too much darkness in the memory of it all for my taste. Like, I go to a place and all I can think about is what happened there during the war. No thanks."

With that admission, the missing pieces fall into place. Hilda's agenda is personal, and one he has no right to judge her for: she's running. Using the auspices of wanderlust and politics, she's fleeing the trauma of the war that tore her world apart. And in her retreat, she's run right to Kaeya Alberich--the one man in Mondstadt who has the potential to tear her new home to shreds.

Diluc is pulled from his thoughts from a huff from Hilda, and she waves a hand dismissively and laughs. Her mask is back on, which is just as well. "Listen to me, getting all depressing at you like this. Forget I said anything." She has to know that he won't. "I should get going. Thanks for the wine, Diluc." She gives him a wink as she gets to her feet, more steady than he would have expected her to be given all she's had to drink.

"Are you going to be all right getting home?"

"Oh, yeah. Don't you worry about sweet little me. I'll be fine."

For once, Diluc isn't tempted to roll his eyes at her. He considers for a few moments, and decides there's one last thing he has to say. Knowing what he knows now, he can't in good conscious leave her in the dark--assuming that she doesn't know already. "One last thing: what do you know of Khaenri'ah?"

Hilda blinks at him a few times, clearly confused. He trusts that her reaction is genuine, given that none of her usual tells are apparent. "Kha-what now?"

She doesn't know. That's both dreadful and a relief.

For a moment, Diluc considers telling her everything then and there. But instead he hesitates, and instead shifts the burden to the person who should bear it. "Khaenri'ah. You should ask Kaeya about it, when you get the chance." It's not fair to use Hilda against Kaeya like this. But that doesn't stop him from doing it.

"... yeah, okay." Hilda doesn't sound especially convinced or even interested, but it doesn't matter what she thinks in the moment. She's drunk, feeling a bit maudlin, and caught off-guard. The seed's been planted, and Diluc knows her well enough that it will take root in good time. She, like her fiancé, doesn't like not knowing things.

"Goodnight, Hilda."

"Goodnight, Diluc. Say hi to Charles for me." And with that, Hilda leave Diluc behind the bar to wonder if he's done enough to give her a fighting chance.