Zandik clears his throat, wringing his hands idly.

“If I had to theorize, I’d say it’s a simpler fix than rain issues or pollution… Most teas tolerate higher acidity than vineyard plants. But I’m no expert.”

- brow furrowing in concern.

𝘏𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘯’𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘥𝘳𝘶𝘯𝘬—𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘴𝘮𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘪𝘵. 𝘋𝘪𝘥 𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘭? 𝘚𝘢𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘧𝘧-𝘭𝘪𝘮𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮𝘴 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘚𝘶𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘶?

“You’d need a sample of the soil to determine the cause of acidity before anything else. Fixing nutrients is simpler than trying to control the weather.”

“I’m not that sort of scholar, really…” he lies, liarly. It is the truth on paper, at least—he shouldn’t have any knowledge about that, nor should he be actively researching it, but… Well, he’s never been the sort to listen to unreasonable rules.

Eyes linger on the hand propping Diluc up, -

The minds of the wealthy are beyond comprehension, he concludes internally, giving up on reading Diluc’s face altogether.

The other man looks like he’s seen a ghost of some kind—and Zandik certainly doesn’t want to pry about this maybe-dead-maybe-not identical friend of his.

- Alcohol only dulls scholastic interaction.”

- his face turning more pallid with each passing moment.

𝘋𝘪𝘥 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯?

“You wouldn’t happen to dabble with tea production as well, would you?” His throat clears awkwardly, gaze falling to the table.

“Back home, it’s more common to share tea with other scholars… -

- he can properly analyze his expressions—see every involuntary indication of discontent.

That feeling of 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴 worms deeper, burrowing into his gut till it churns and twists unpleasantly. A thousand maggots writhe in the fleshy space between his organs,

“Something like that. There’s a few higher-ups wandering around somewhere,” he mumbles, gesturing loosely to the far-away crowds.

“I didn’t know the Knights were so well-off…”

Strange, the passage of time. The boy’s head shakes, a sigh on his lips. With Diluc’s mask pulled back, -

“You donated that highly-coveted bottle, I presume?”

Fingers wrap around the stem of his glass, his other hand pulling the mask free. He sets it to the side carefully, taking a moment to sip at his cider.

“I’m not much for wine myself… But watching the bidding is rather entertaining.”

… He feels more underprepared than ever as that card is presented to him, hesitant as he reaches to take it.

“Zandik.” Pausing, he quietly debates if he should make up some family name or grand occupation to fit in with the noble folk. “… I’m a student from the Sumeru Akademiya.”

Is this how all wealthy men behave?

This man’s entire attitude feels off in a way he can’t quite place. It’s different than the usual suspicious side glances and outright hostile stares, but… something is off.

“This is a social event ultimately—I don’t think it’s strange to approach anyone.”

- is a distant cousin?”

- faces covered.”

Up close, the minor differences shine through. The mask is a bit different than the Doctor’s. More blue-grey traces his eyes, the patterns imitating circus makeup more than anything. And though not much of his face is visible, his teeth are… plain.

“Maybe this friend of yours -

“Can’t say I’ve heard that before…”

His head tilts, mirroring the other man innocently. He figures this ‘owl’ is probably drunk off his ass, being the owner of a ‘wine tycoon’ and all.

“Then again, I haven’t been to one of these masked parties before—everyone looks a bit stranger with their -

He swallows, doing his best to seem at least semi-approachable before he speaks.

“… May as well try a bit of everything while I’m here.”

Fuck.

Mentally, he’d prepared to speak to people tonight—but actually being left alone, face to face with a very tall and very wealthy man is a bit more than he’d prepared for. Zandik freezes like a deer caught in the path of a runaway cart, caught mid-macaron.

apostasya

I thought it would be fun for him to just have the same tastes as his ‘future’ self fashion-wise :3c

- to ‘interrogation’—‘accusation.’ But this one… seems different.

Zandik sighs, head shaking.

“A lot in this city is odd—what do you mean by strange? What happened?”

Entertaining as his new visitor is, his haggardness doesn’t escape Zandik. He gives the other a once over, carefully cataloguing every noticeable difference.

Hairs prickle at the mention of ‘questions,’ dread settling deep in his stomach. Questions from the Akademiya’s elites tends to translate -