#Import dear esther maps into 3dsmax skin

Four years away did little to stem the reflexive rise of bile that comes with the mention of the Ordo Favonius, but it is what it is, and Diluc has-moreso than ever before-always been a man who does what he must. He decides to make his way to the Mondstadt library that same day, tamping down the lingering bitterness that normally accompanies the thought of having to involve himself with anything associated with the Knights. The only indication of her quiet worry-and a confirmation that Diluc indeed did not dream about coughing up flower petals-is the still-warm cup of soothing ginger tea that he wakes up to on his bedside table. He owes Adelinde that much, at least, especially after everything she’s done for him and seeing to the affairs of the estate in his absence. He resolves to try and make some headway on what's ailing him as soon as he can manage, if only to offer her some reassurance that he won't drop dead mere days after returning from a four-year absence. It all feels like he just had a bad dream, and he doesn’t quite feel like he’s on the verge of some life-threatening physical breakdown, but the very real worry on Adelinde's face upon seeing him in his earlier state is etched indelibly in his mind. There are no longer any petals strewn across the bedsheets. Perhaps a mutated reaction from a particularly nasty Dendro slime, because flowers, he thinks absently, but he doesn’t quite understand what’s happening enough to make any further educated guesses, and what he doesn’t understand makes him highly uncomfortable.ĭiluc rolls over with a gentle huff. He's only been back in Mondstadt for less than a week his initial suspicion is that he picked something up during the very last leg of his trip away, but he isn't sure if it's Fatui design or something decidedly less malignant.

Three more hours of a fitful, dreamless sleep go by, and Diluc is no closer to an answer by the time he wakes.

#Import dear esther maps into 3dsmax skin

He's going to ignore the fact that the extremely vivid dream he was having before he was rudely awakened was that of happier days and the charming, unguarded laughter of a dark-haired young man with sun-kissed skin and the stars in his eyes. He'll figure out it later, but right now he is so, so tired-his throat no longer feels like it’s trying to collapse inwards, but the mild prickling sensation is still there. Master Diluc has always preferred to do things his way, and she’s not about to force the issue now.ĭiluc watches his bedroom door click shut and closes his eyes tiredly, burrowing back into the sheets after a cursory swipe at the peach-tinged petals still littering the linens. I'm okay.'Īdelinde hesitates- nobody sneezes up a storm of plant matter and thinks that's fine, she wants to say-but nods and takes her leave once she’s fairly sure he isn’t in any immediate danger. 'Don’t tell anyone,' Diluc finally breathes after a shocked silence, still staring at the petals in his hand like he’s grown an extra limb. ' What is going on? Should I send for a doctor? I-' It ends up hurting more than helping, and he feels the gentle itch turn into something of a cross between a cough and a sneeze, threatening to rise like a cresting wave the more he tries to keep it down-Īdelinde comes knocking at the sound of the young master's distress and promptly lets herself in as the sneezing gets more violent, wide-eyed concern openly displayed across her features as Diluc, sniffling, stares at a handful of small, delicately rumpled calla lily petals scattered into his palm and across the sheets.Ī few moments pass as Adelinde’s worried gaze sweeps across the scene first to Diluc, who looks more bewildered than teetering on the brink of respiratory collapse ( thank Barbatos), and to the petals scattered about, which are definitely not something she’s ever encountered in her years of service to the Ragnvindr estate or even outside of it.

There is a strange prickling in his throat that feels like it's rooted all the way back in his chest, and he takes a small, tentative breath. It is a bright and balmy morning at the Dawn Winery, and Diluc Ragnvindr wakes with a start.