The Desert of Sumeru

Part 1

The desert of Sumeru. Seemingly hollow, infinite and powerful. Rarely do people venture into this barren land, but, now, an exception: a red headed warrior, a claymore hanging on his back, a permanent scowl on his face, seeking revenge and, lastly, freedom and comfort. Diluc, heir of the Ragnvindr Clan and Dawn Winery, hunting Fatui for one simple wish: finding the origin of Delusions and avenging his father.

His quest has started a year ago; many have perished along it's duration. Starting with Liyue, then onto the rainforest of Sumeru, then it's main city and now the desert; that is now an impression of being lost, lasting days. It's almost suffocating. The temperature is getting lower. The dark is approaching and all that's left to follow is a faint light; smoke in the distance: probably a campfire. His pace intensifies. In no way is he going to let this continue, a mission has to be completed. That light, maybe a wanderer, could guide him out.

An hour has passed. A silhouette approaching him as he is approaching it. Then they both stop:

"Are you lost or...were you looking for us?" a tanned, short boy with ginger hair speaks.

"I'm lost.."

"Then follow me"

The boys' clothing is shabby to say the least, clearly battered by the dust and the versatile weather. His hair is long and uncared for, his face dusty, adding to his freckles. The red headed warrior follows, curiosity, along with suspicion, hitting him.

When the boy stops walking, Diluc wakes up from his daydream.

"Here we are" The wind blows. Freedom.

An old man and a girl that looks the same as the boy. They are sitting in front of a fireplace, in the middle of their poorly cared for camp.

"Leica! What do we have here?!" exclaims the old man.

The girl looks as lost as their guest, embracing the old man from the back, looking at nothing. He sees the same ginger hair, the same dust and freckles. They must be twins. And as Diluc later finds out, the old man is their grandfather, their location unbeknownst to their parents, as they are to them. The hermit is looking up in awe: the newcomer's hair flowing with the wind as he is fiercely staring at the scene before him.

"This...boy helped me reach you. It seems that I'm lost, since I've been wandering the desert for quite some days. You're the only humans I've seen. Feels like I'm running around in circles... Could you please direct me towards Natlan?"

Two eyes light up in satisfaction, a smile forms, a set of dirty teeth.

"Of course I could! But you are going to do something for me too. Have you been to Liyue? The people there would consider this a contract."

Frowning and clenching his teeth in, probably, disgust Diluc asks: "...and what would that something be?"

"Drink with me. It's been a while since I had a drinking partner. Help out an old man, would you? Who knows how much I got left.."

The other man hesitates to give an answer, this situation clearly unsafe. He watches as the old man reaches out for a bottle full of a purplish-blue liquid and drinks directly from it. After a while he speaks:

"See? I'm fine! Totally safe. Either way, where are you going to spend the night if not here? You saw how the temperature drops for sure. You either somehow bury yourself underground or cut some poor animal open for a burrow. I'm curious what you-"

Diluc shivers in disgust: "Alright, alright..." He sighs as he sits down, comforting himself that the liquid can't be that bad due to its resemblance to grape juice. "You...do have another bottle..right?"

A laugh: "Too unclean for you? You should see yourself!" In truth, in his current state he doesn't show his social status, the comfort he grew up in. His clothes are torn in some places, dirty with dried up blood, dust; on his right cheek a healing cut, unshaven hairs on his face, sweat. If not for his facial expression, manner of speech and the claymore the size of him he's carrying, one would mistake him for the common poor man. Nonetheless, this is proof of countless battles.

A glass is being prepared, as he asks: "But...what is it?"

"I don't remember it's name, so call it as you wish. It's an old recipe, older than even me..." he hands him the glass. Diluc grabs it, trying to gander the liquid: bubbling on the surface, just like sparkling water does. Then he feels it, becoming nauseous: the faint smell of alcohol. "Ughh...I don't think I-"

"Drink up, alright? Our "contract". Remember?"

A sigh and a nod of acceptance. „Then...cheers!" Down in one go. Weirdly enough, he notices that it's taste is on par with grape juice, the alcohol can't be felt, the texture to his liking. „Do you make this yourself? It's so good! How do you even manage to acquire this taste? This is clearly not wine, nor-„

„As I said, an old recipe." Pointing to the twins: „Whenever I need new ingredients I send these two rascals to grab some. Long have passed the days since this drink had any taste for me..."

Diluc is staring at the empty glass, yearning to feel that familiar taste again. The drink warms him up, now unfeeling of the cold outside. Then he realizes:

„I haven't properly introduced myself. Diluc Ragnvindr, of Mondstadt." A weak hand shakes his.

„Oh..don't bother...I always forget names, sometimes even mine. But I'll humor you: Belveder, of distant land. No need to wonder about me, as I'm sure you're far more of an interesting subject. You are here for a reason..."

Silence settles over the two. Lost in thought then, as his body slowly starts feeling heavy, Diluc pulls something out of one of his pockets. „Yes. I'm here because of this." He holds it to Belveder's eye level, to be sure he sees it clearly. „It's a Delusion. Familiar? They are made to replicate visions, supposed to give you power and such...but it can-" He pauses, the pain visible in his eyes. „It can backfire"

„Never heard of them, no." His expression turning into a serious one: „Put it aside. I think it's best you start to relax..."

Diluc's frown turns into a quizzical look. „Something the matter?" As he speaks his head starts to hurt, a buzzing sound in his ears getting louder. With a grimace, he grabs his head with one of his hands, feeling like he weighs a ton. All is moving so fast.

„No, but...it's about time you taste tomorrow.."

Then, he falls.