Diluc x reader/oc

Youthful Mornings

Like many stories in Mondstat, this one begins with a little golden eyed girl gazing up at a certain kingdom in the sky. To her it looked like only a penny floating in a vast sea of foamy water, and all she could do at that moment was look up. "Ma, what is that?" The young girl asked as she lifted her small finger to point to the sky. "That's the kingdom of Celestia," the girl's mother answered. "The gods who shaped this world are up there, watching over us all."
"But why?"
"That's a question that you must ask the gods themselves, for only they know the true answer. But one thing we do know is that if you ever feel scared and alone, they will protect you and keep you safe." A gentle smile curved on the mother's lips as she looked down at her daughter, her everything, and knew that her life would be blessed with the holy presence of the gods. "I wanna go up there! Can I?" Said the little girl, stretching up on the tip of her toes as if she could reach the kingdom of Celestia. "A mere mortal like us don't have the privilege to ascend to Celestia. But if you grow up to be a strong and wise woman, then you might just be able to earn the gaze of the gods," a light tap of a finger pressed on the girl's nose, "If you really want to go up there then I know you could do it. You can do anything you put your mind to." The mother said lovingly in her familiarly warm tone. Little did the mother know, this girl would cling tight to her mother's words, as if they were wisdom from the God's themselves. Her young, innocent mind would never forget these simple times.

The daughter's name was Rosalinde, a carefully chosen name by which her parents bestowed upon her. She lived on a small farm in a neighborhood no bigger than Springvale, and miles of grassy acres separated each humble home. Rosalinde's family was far from wealthy, only being able to afford a sharecrop farm to live off of. And although half of what little they harvested went to the person who owned their land, they still seemed happy and content with their lives. The house was a small brick cottage layered with bustles of bushy moss, having been damp from many years of rain. The bricks were crowded with green vines that crawled up the side of the home and clung to the white bricks. Limited with only three rooms, the family of four, and an expecting five, were forced to make due with what they had. But despite all these hardships for such young children and hardworking parents, they still went day to day with an impressively positive mindset.

Rosalinde was now seven years old and she had been living with her family on the farm ever since she was born. Though her mind was new to the world and lacked expertise, she still worked just as capably as a young adult. She and her siblings never had the luxury of going on a trip outside the farm, working to make enough for a living required much of their attention. But Rosalinde didn't mind, she quite liked caring for the farm animals and even cleaning up after them. She had a name to call each and every one of them, and they all responded to her with their names. Two pigs, two cows, one mule, one goat, and a flock of many chickens.

The father of the home and his eldest son took care of the more grueling work on the farm. Pulling the plow, digging up large weeds, hauling bales of hay, and pushing Wheelbarrels piled with manure, all in a day's work. Her mother helped on the farm when she could, but now that she was carrying a baby she could only make due with homely duties.

And here was Rosalinde on a Sunday morning, beginning her daily schedule. Before the sun would rise, Rosalinde would be up and running down to the barn. It was chilly so early in the morning and the farm was covered in a light foggy haze, drenching the grass in it's morning dew. Carrying a woven basket, drowsiness still loomed over her small figure, the weight of her things she carried caused her to tip back and forth like a seesaw. She gave the cows and the goat their share of hay, the horse it's grain. They all went straight to begin chowing down on their breakfast.

She then emptied the tin bucket filled with scraps to give to the pigs, and they snorted thank you's in reply. After she fed the pigs, she gave the chickens their bucket of seeds mixed with corn and gathered a few eggs from the chicken coop, setting them carefully in her basket. The morning sun finally began to peek from behind the horizon and the sky faded into a beautiful orange hue. Rosalinde's father, along with her older brother, would be up soon to plow the soil and get it ready for this years harvest.

Since she had finished her work a little early, she decided to go ahead and get the plow ready to be hooked to their horse. It wasn't too heavy and had two sets of wheels that made it easier to maneuver. Pulling the plow into the hallway of the barn, she made sure it would be close enough to hook to the horse. The plow was about 3 feet wide and four rusty blades were fixed in a frame. In order to make the crop's soil delicate enough to plant seeds in, the blades would cut through the dense ground as the horse was urged on through it. The horse was shaped more like a pony, with its short stature and small ears. And because his stumpy legs were meaty instead of muscular, he was hardly cut out for farm work. You could always find him with his head hung low to the ground, searching for something to nibble on instead of paying attention to his duties. But he was still a wise and loyal horse who had taken care of the family for many long years, and for that they were grateful.

When her brother and father arrived, their eyes still puffy from having just gotten out of bed,
Rosalinde waited for her father's approval to end her morning schedule. Her brother was the eldest of the siblings and was growing rapidly into a young adult. His brunette hair matched Rosalinde's, as dark as the Earth's soil. The rest of her family had that same earthy brown hair, all except her mother, who's hair was a slightly lighter tone that glistened gold in the sun. "Mornin, Rosa." Her father grumbled as she handed the reins off to her father.

His large hand reached down to rustle her hair. "Thanks, Rosa. You're growing faster than I can keep up with." Rosalinde smiled innocently up at her Pa and laughed. She would never miss an opportunity to impress her father while her older brother was around. One day she hoped to be just as strong as the two of them. Rosalinde then left the barn and headed back into her home where steam seeped out of the chimney.

"Ma, I finished!" Rosalinde hollered as she leapt through the creaky door. "Already? That might just be the quickest you've ever been." Her mother stood at the stove while stirring a steaming pot of oats. "I guess that means you can help set the table for breakfast." Rosalinde was tired from the farm work but she did as her mother told her nonetheless. The dishes were carved from wood, and the silverware made of dented steel. Mostly everything in the home was crafted by the family's own hands, wether it was stable or not.

Soon the bell was wrung and in came the others for breakfast. The table was set and ready for the boys, fresh oatmeal comfortably filling their bowls. The warm familiar atmosphere was mostly quiet, besides the sounds of the four eating and the occasional farm talk. This was Rosalinde's everyday life, and having nothing to compare it to, it was absolutely perfect. It was normal for her, living poor. What could her happy family possibly struggle with? To Rosalinde, this was how everyone lived and everyone was equal. And it's exactly what her loving parents wanted their children to believe.