Windblume season always changes the air in Mondstadt.
Lighter. Softer. Full of flowers and confessions.
And somehow, even with the city buzzing, the message from Diluc Ragnvindr felt… personal.
“The winery’s been keeping me so busy lately that I haven’t been able to stay in touch for a while. I’ve recently come across some unique fruit wines that you might like. Let’s grab a drink together if you’re free.”
Simple.
Formal.
Very Diluc.
But you could read between the lines.
He never “just grabs drinks.”
Especially not during Windblume.
When you arrive at Dawn Winery, the sun is just beginning to set. The vineyard glows gold. Windblume flowers drift lazily in the breeze.
He’s already waiting outside.
No tavern noise. No crowds.
Just the two of you.
He’s dressed as usual — dark, composed, immaculate — but there’s something softer in his posture tonight. Less guarded.
“You came,” he says quietly.
Like he wasn’t entirely sure you would.
You tease him lightly about the “busy winery.”
A faint huff leaves him — almost amused.
“It has,” he replies. Then after a brief pause, more honestly, “But that is not the only reason.”
He leads you to a small table set slightly away from the main estate — candles lit, glasses prepared.
Subtle.
Private.
Intentional.
He pours the fruit wine carefully, explaining where it’s from, what makes it different, why he thought of you when he tasted it.
That’s how Diluc confesses.
Not with grand poetry.
With thoughtfulness.
“With Windblume,” he says, voice lower now, “it seemed appropriate.”
You raise a brow.
“For what?”
His red eyes meet yours — steady, intense, but softer than usual.
“For asking properly.”
Your heart stumbles.
Diluc sets his glass down.
“I dislike neglecting what matters to me,” he continues. “The winery has demanded much of my time. That will not be repeated.”
It isn’t an apology in the dramatic sense.
It’s a promise.
Wind brushes a strand of hair across your face, and his hand lifts automatically to move it back.
His touch is warm.
Careful.
Lingering.
“You deserve attention,” he says quietly.
Not flirtatious.
Certain.
When you smile at him, something in his expression shifts — that rare, small smile he doesn’t show the world.
Windblume petals drift between you.
And for once, the Darknight Hero isn’t thinking about patrols.
Or threats.
Or responsibilities.
He’s thinking about this.
You.
The way the candlelight reflects in your eyes.
And how, even during the busiest season of the year
He chose to carve out this moment.
Just for you.
“Shall we consider this,” he asks softly, lifting his glass slightly, “our Windblume date?”
And this time, he doesn’t hide the warmth in his voice at all.