#⋆༺𓆩⚜𓆪༻⋆ ⸺ administrative log. 🢐 queue 🢒

[emissaryoftheguilty]

hello! i'm leaving this up as a permanent plotting call for current followers & new for my muse Wriothesley from Genshin Impact. if you like this post, it will let me know that you are open for communication and wanting to talk plots/starters/threads out!

when it comes to genres, i'm genuinely okay with a lot of things (save for some themes listed in my rules). i'm open for dark themes (within reason), angst, drama, slice of life, fluff, first meetings, etc. i'm not *really* looking for one-offs, as i really want to build connections, but if you have any ideas i'm absolutely willing to hear them out!

[emissaryoftheguilty]

“You know that ‘someday’ could very well be years into the future, Mizuki,” Wriothesley stated, leveling a pointed look at her. Sighing, he lifted and waved a hand dismissively, moving on from the subject. What’s done is done.

When she called him out in regard to the wedding held within the Fortress, he narrowed his eyes a tad. “Well, the two of them have yet to serve their sentence here fully, but they still mentioned that they’re planning to stay down here anyway, so there’s that.” He made a point with a sniff, turning his attention away from her as he began to consider his options more.

Mizuki certainly had a point, of which he had no doubt, especially the more he thought of it. Diluc deserved blue skies, not—not dark and dank metal and machinery.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he then dragged a hand down his face before cupping his own chin in thought, furrowing his brows. “Two ceremonies do seem like the better option… But I really need to stop getting ahead of myself. I don’t want to jump the gun in assuming that it’s something that he wants, so I’ll have a conversation about it with him to see where his thoughts lie. It is a two-person marriage, after all, so it’d be terribly negligent if I were to make all the decisions.”

Though, as the younger asked if he’s left Fontaine since that evening, he paused for a moment, his eyes cast to the floor before glancing over at her. “… No. I haven’t. I’ve never really ventured outside of Fontaine before, at all,” he muttered, rubbing the nape of his neck. Taking a deep breath, the Duke ruffled the hair behind his head a bit. “Alright. Alright, alright. I’ll certainly try to have a wedding at least outside of Fontaine.”

( 🐩 ) OH SHE KNOWS , it being proven with how she sticks her tongue out at him 'fore snickering. ❝ AND ? WOULDN'T HURT t'try . . pretty sure i'd find me some day ~ ❞ in like five years or something , which would have left her even further high and dry.

EYES ROLL AS mizuki gave him a look. he's impossible. ❝ I'M SURE IT was , but let me guess . . it was 'cuz the two've 'em had little choice but to do it down here. you and diluc have all the options ever --- choosing it to just down here . . c'mon. you could think up somethin' so much better ! ❞ c'mon , mister duke , think about it --- ah ! the gears are turning.

SHE COUNTS DOWN from five in her head as she watches him complain about why it couldn't be down here ; a giggle escaping her as he concluded rather quickly that it wouldn't completely suit the nobleman. no shit sherlock. she can't believe that she had to remind him of such a thing -- at least for the moment ; her big brother was smart. she was sure he'd figure it out on his own eventually.

TWIRLING ONE OF her braids in the air she lulled her gaze back to sit fully on wriothesley after taking stock of what was in his office for what seemed to be the third time in the short period.

❝ SURE DOESN'T. HE'S a rich kid - 'n while he may say that just something down here is all fine 'n dandy . . don't you wanna see where he comes from too ? two ceremonies could be fun after all ! a weekend away to play and then return back to work . . ❞ to her it sounds a bit droll ; but she never was the type to stay in one place for very long -- that much known by how impossible it is for mizuki to sit still.

BRAIDS SPIN AS the allogene does herself , coming to rest against wriothesley's desk 'fore sliding up to sit on top of it ; barely missing the papers on the desk as she did so. ❝ HAVE YOU EVER even left fontaine since , y'know. before. i don't remember that much back then but , like , the beach 'n blood. ❞ her eyes look to him , owlish and focused on him.

[emissaryoftheguilty]

ᴛᴀɢ ᴅᴜᴍᴘ 𝟏 / ?

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[emissaryoftheguilty]

The young master is staring. Staring at those tufts of hair that point upwards, looking as though... ... ...

A quiet snort punctuates the thought, and Diluc looks away, bashful. He's not saying anything.

A deep furrow was between the Duke’s brows as he looked at the menu of a café he had invited the young Ragnivindr to. He was trying to figure out what little he could get away with eating to be enough to avoid Sigewinne while not feeling overly stuffed.

This wasn’t supposed to be a meal, after all. Not for him, at least.

However, hearing the snort, he blinked and lifted his kyanite eyes from the menu to instead look over towards his companion, one of the furrowed brows shifting to instead quirk upwards.

“… Is there something on my face? In my hair?” he asked, genuinely curious rather than offended.

[emissaryoftheguilty]

A soft, content sigh escaped the Duke as his beloved fiancé returned the kiss with just as much passion given, despite the eyes that may be on them. Oh, he loves him so much. He briefly nuzzled his nose into Diluc’s soft cheek as he grinned broadly from ear to ear, pressing a gentle peck against the reddened skin there.

It was only when the Ragnivindr man made to pull away that Wriothesley finally let him go, smiling at him all the while as his eyes kept upon him and nothing else within the tavern. He took in the sight of his beloved in his bartender uniform, and had he a tail it would be wagging a mile a minute. Truly, Diluc was breathtaking in anything and everything he wore. Not to mention, the way the waistcoat cinched around his form…

Wow.

Taking a seat at the bar, he watched as the other worked diligently to make the very same drink that marked the beginning of their relations, his gaze nothing short of dreamy. Archons, he’s the luckiest man alive.

Laughter rang from the Duke as Diluc called him ‘sir,’ a wolfish grin taking place of his enamored one as he gazed at the redheaded angel before him. “Oh, I’ll wait as long as it takes, mon amour, no matter how much it pains me to be parted from you,” he assured, humming and leaning into the other’s touch as his hair was carded through. He took one of the younger man’s hands in his own, pressing his lips to each and every knuckle before letting him go.

“I look forward to it.”

Soft, warm laughter echoes throughout the tavern as he's swiftly whisked off of his feet, crimson hues avoiding their unwitting audience to instead focus his sole attention upon the source of his joy.

People were bound to find out, either way -- no need to pay them any mind.

"Mm, 'oops' indeed."

He knew full well that the Duke harbored no shame for the openness with which he expressed his affections. As strange as it felt for him to reciprocate under the watchful eyes of those who knew him to be distant and reticent in his day-to-day, he had not the heart to deprive his fiancé of the love he deserved.

And so he leans into that kiss with equal fervor, hands smoothing across his shoulders and giving a gentle squeeze.

He'd announced Last Orders a fair while ago -- but the perks of being one's own boss is that he gets to bend the rules every now and then.

"Sure. One special tea for one special man."

However much he loathes to be apart from Wriothesley -- they can't rightly be glued to one another the entire time when he still has work to do. It would be unfair to Charles to leave him with a mess to clean upon arrival -- and so he pulls away to retreat behind the bar. In a familiar environment, he's able to replicate that same, fruity iced tea with a tad more efficiency than he had back in Fontane, and slides it over.

It's service with a smile, followed up by an expectant glance at his remaining guests, and then to the clock on the wall. They have three minutes until closing time, and until they're turfed out.

"Sorry, Sir. I have to finish off these tables." A flirtatious wink accompanies his apologies as the cloth and soapy water are retrieved, so that he can clean and usher everyone out when their time is through -- but not without leaning over the bar to gently smooth his hand through messy, dark locks.

"You'll have my full attention soon enough."