[diluc was at least eighteen then-- though nehan has no idea what the age of majority is in that world. or even mondstadt's culture.
then the older, more ragged nehan grabs diluc's shoulder, and glares into his eyes:]
You're insistent on knowing quite a bit about me and trying to avenge what has already been avenged, so watch everything.
[then he turns to himself, the younger nehan who takes a look around himself on the street, the mafiosi hidden in the crowd, and adjusts his glove and coat to make sure his scars are completely hidden-- he may be wearing a backless suit as is tradition with erunes, the same exact suit the older nehan is wearing right now, but that doesn't mean he wants the evidence of his pain broadcast for the world to see. then he strides towards a small, one-storey building, a small variety store advertising all sorts of knick-knacks. nehan situates himself near the door while his younger self takes a few steps inside, the door still ajar.
the hustle and bustle of the market is interrupted by the sound of a rifle being fired, like a booming thunderclap in a clear, sunny day. the nehan without a crutch and eyepatch falls forward, onto to the floor like a marionette with its strings cut, and while the coat drapes over him, covering most of him from view, blood quickly seeps out from under his body.]
no subject
then the older, more ragged nehan grabs diluc's shoulder, and glares into his eyes:]
You're insistent on knowing quite a bit about me and trying to avenge what has already been avenged, so watch everything.
[then he turns to himself, the younger nehan who takes a look around himself on the street, the mafiosi hidden in the crowd, and adjusts his glove and coat to make sure his scars are completely hidden-- he may be wearing a backless suit as is tradition with erunes, the same exact suit the older nehan is wearing right now, but that doesn't mean he wants the evidence of his pain broadcast for the world to see. then he strides towards a small, one-storey building, a small variety store advertising all sorts of knick-knacks. nehan situates himself near the door while his younger self takes a few steps inside, the door still ajar.
the hustle and bustle of the market is interrupted by the sound of a rifle being fired, like a booming thunderclap in a clear, sunny day. the nehan without a crutch and eyepatch falls forward, onto to the floor like a marionette with its strings cut, and while the coat drapes over him, covering most of him from view, blood quickly seeps out from under his body.]