Childe "I Can Make Her Worse" Tartaglia (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
monoceroscaeli) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
insurmountable2022-08-06 09:20 pm
monoceroscaeli) wrote in insurmountable2022-08-06 09:20 pm
Entry tags:
just call my name / i'm yours to tame
[Mondstadt was a beautiful country, truly. He'd never been here before, and Tartaglia has wildly enjoyed himself even on the first day. Yes, he's here for work purposes, but that doesn't mean he can't have a little fun while he's at it. Meeting with government officials all day bored him to tears, but it was largely necessary- especially if Snezhnaya were to carry out their plans as intended. A few deals here, a few underhanded moves there, it was all part of the plan. Not something he was terribly interested in doing, and it's not really him to do those kinds of things but...his job comes first and his personal feelings second.
But being able to do all of this while exploring the city was nice. He'd enjoyed the high skyscrapers and big city feel of the nation of freedom, but there was also a part of the city that still took on the feel of olden times, cobblestone roads and houses that resembled cottages. It was quaint and if he's being honest, he loved it.
But the first day of his trip has ended, with many more to go- so it's best to take the edge off. The recommended tavern of the city seems to be Angel's Share, five stars on his travel app. Tartaglia slips his phone into his pocket as he heads there, entering the tavern and heading straight up to the bar to take a seat.
The bartender has some of the most striking red hair and eyes he's ever seen, having to blink twice before he pulls himself together.
He hails him down, waving a hand to get Diluc's attention.]
A glass of Dandelion Wine, to start, if you could.
[Because why wouldn't you try the region's specialties? He's excited for it.]
But being able to do all of this while exploring the city was nice. He'd enjoyed the high skyscrapers and big city feel of the nation of freedom, but there was also a part of the city that still took on the feel of olden times, cobblestone roads and houses that resembled cottages. It was quaint and if he's being honest, he loved it.
But the first day of his trip has ended, with many more to go- so it's best to take the edge off. The recommended tavern of the city seems to be Angel's Share, five stars on his travel app. Tartaglia slips his phone into his pocket as he heads there, entering the tavern and heading straight up to the bar to take a seat.
The bartender has some of the most striking red hair and eyes he's ever seen, having to blink twice before he pulls himself together.
He hails him down, waving a hand to get Diluc's attention.]
A glass of Dandelion Wine, to start, if you could.
[Because why wouldn't you try the region's specialties? He's excited for it.]
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[He says as he leads the way out of the bar. He stands under the stars for a moment. He doesn’t look back. He feels closer to being alive than he has in centuries. It’s like snapping awake.
He leads his companion through lesser known streets. His voice calls back to another time.]
We fought each time. He was vicious, as ruthless as the ocean itself. And just as playful. He enjoyed fighting.
He lived for it.
If he were to live again he would immediately find an opponent and challenge them. I felt all of this each time we crossed blades. Kaeya would tell you the same. Fighting him you had to give everything to the fight. Or die.
[He had respected his strength. Come to respect him as a warrior. The only Fatui to gain his respect. They were on opposing sides but one could respect an opponent who wasn’t evil. The Tartaglia had a code of honor and moral reasoning. It was iffy at times but he stuck to it.]
…I had heard none could gain his title. But I thought it hearsay.
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You can consider this as your proof then. You must be impressive yourself if you could keep up with someone like him and live to tell the tale.
[And the idea of that makes his blood pump faster. He's going to get to fight this guy. It's an incredible opportunity, and his luck couldn't of been better to happen to walk into the bar with a figure like Diluc in it.]
But what I find the most interesting out of this entire exchange so far is why you were so willing to be this open with me about who you really are. You'd frighten just about anyone else, and yet you still told me knowing who I was.
Something else on your mind?
[Tartaglia has a list of things he thinks it might be, but better to get it from the horse's mouth first before he starts speculating.]
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He looks at him again and it is like looking into eyes he has seen before. A flash of light in the endless dark. He focuses forward again.] I confess I don’t know.
But I will when we cross blades.
[They pass through the city gates and the moon is briefly blocked by a vast winged shape. A dragon but unlike the feathered beauty that is Dvalin, this one looks like he is part of the night side. Silver and black scales like the glittering moonless sky.
The dragon wings towards the headquarters of the knights. Doubtless Kaeya will wake up at dusk tomorrow to ask about his present business.
He leads Childe over the bridge. The hill up ahead and the path on the other side would do. It would shield them from prying eyes and let them battle as they pleased.] This should be far enough.
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Tartaglia too, notices the shadow that passes over the moon, proof to the Harbinger that the dragon really does exist. It's not a trick of the light, and he gazes upward in wonder. So, turns out Diluc's words all held truth to them, not that he would doubt him now. The man in front of him had no reflection. That was proof enough.
When they reach their battleground, he surveys the area. Good ground that would make for a great fight, far enough from the city where they could go all out and not have to rouse any suspicion from the Knights. It wouldn't be good for him, as a Snezhnayan diplomat, to be caught fighting in the streets of Mondstadt. So this works for him. He's sure it will help keep Diluc's legend just that- a legend, one that he could tell patrons that would spread the story among the city and beyond.]
Seems as good of a spot as any. Now. Let's ready our blades, I've been itching for this chance ever since we left the bar. You'll find I'm no pushover...and you better leave it all on the battlefield.
[Tartaglia's eyes glitter dangerously. He's dead serious, even through the wicked grin he wears on his face.]
I won't forgive you if you don't. So let's see how you hold up against the might of the new Eleventh Harbinger!
[Without warning, his blades flash into his hands, the design of an ancient world from long ago brought back into modern times.]
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As he balances it on his shoulder. And drops all wards. The fine point to his ears returns. His fangs glint in the moonlight. His eyes burn and widen as he takes in the shape of blades he hasn’t seen in a long time.]
I will never insult you by giving you a poor battle. [Of all things, he smiles. He takes a step then he charges forward, hurling the blade and sending it spinning at Childe.
It’s a distraction. He intends to get in close and hit him with his monstrous strength.]
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Tartaglia answers with a counter of his own, the nimble Harbinger dodging the blade and seeing the distraction that Diluc has set up. It wouldn't be surprising to learn if a vampire has superhuman strength, but he has power granted to him by the Tsaritsa as well- so he'll show this legend exactly what he's made out of.]
Hahaha! I can do that too, you know!
[He underhand pitches one of his own blades towards Diluc, the blade spinning through the air as he charges forward, a look of deadly joy on his face as he does so.
He doesn't know exactly how Diluc will try to use his own strength against him, but he's ready to block it with his blades, ready to reform his sword that he just threw. A good way to really see what he's up against.]
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He brings it up as he gets close while sending other flames into the ground. The wolf’s gravestone is set bursting up out of the ground and into the air. As he brings his flame sword around in a swift slice.
It has been years since set up a battlefield like a game board. Not since the last time he sparred with Kaeya that he fully let all his knowledge and tactics be at work.]
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Tartaglia's blades form in his hands once more, slamming them together into his double-bladed polearm that catches the pyro-shaped claymore with the hook of it that threatens to slice him in two, steam from both elements shooting off each other violently. And there's the matter of the real claymore that's been shot into the air to deal with- he wonders how Diluc will utilize it when it eventually falls, but he'll be ready for when that time comes soon.]
Not bad. It's been a while since I've fought someone of this caliber. Now let's take it up a notch.
[His polearm breaks apart once more to assault Diluc with a series of quick strikes, Tartaglia's laughter ringing out in the night air.]
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He leans into the fast strike and sacrifices the flame blade to pull up a leg and hammer a kick into Childe’s stomach. It will feel like being hit by a wall of it connects. And if it works he grabs his sword out of the air and brings it around.
He bares his teeth in a feral snarl, flames dancing in his eyes. If the kick doesn’t work he dodges to the side, grabs the blade and uses it to try and shoulder check Childe.]
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By the time he's recovered, Diluc has his weapon in his hand, leveled at him and ready to fight.]
Did I awaken something there, Master Diluc?
[He sees how the flames in his eyes dance and threaten to burn him alive, excitement building in the pit of his stomach, his own hydro blades at the ready.]
You look like you're ready to tear me apart limb from limb. So? What do you think so far? Have I proven myself as worthy of my predecessor's seat?
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Because you can handle my rage. [His body turns to shadow and flame. He reappears in a storm of fire five feet away. He lifts his hand to pop his neck and drops all internal chains. The man that stands with flames circling him is taller, lean and fit, with tapered ears and fangs. He holds the claymore with one hand. The flames wrap around the blade and the black blade glows with heat.
Then he charges. This is his full speed and power, a fire storm that once was human but crossed into the supernatural. He is the flame in the darkness that longs for the Dawn.
A Dawn he can no longer have.]
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Diluc transforms right before his very eyes, and he can feel the terror stir in the pit of his stomach. So this is the true strength of a mythical creature turned reality. Though a part of him tell him to run, most of him feels a euphoria and excitement at the idea of fighting such a creature. There's no way that he can take Diluc on now, not as he is currently.
When the vampire rushes him, as the fire threatens to burn away his flesh by proximity alone, he uses his full power to survive it. The blade that reflects the starry night sky comes up to block the dark claymore that comes for him, a clang that rings out and echos throughout the landscape around them.
Dark energy surges forward, and a clawed hand holding onto the hilt of Tartaglia's sword emerges, his voice low and guttural as opposed to the high baritone he usually has.]
H͔̺̺e̘̙͕h̫͉̦.͍̝ F̦͎̼o̡̝̙r̺̞c͉̘i̺͉̘n͍͇g̞͖ m͎͉͕e͓̘̪ t͓̙o͍͉̘ g̟͉o͖̦͙ t͙͉̦h̟̝̘i̢̻̟ș̙ f͚͓̪a̺͓͖r͕͓͕.̘͚͖.̡͇̼.̡̞͎I͓̞̠'͓̫̪m͚͍͙ i̢̼̙m̙͚p̢̦͉r͎͖͍e̪̞͍s̡̟͖s͔̝̞e̝̘͙d͖͚͜.̝̼͚
[Parrying upward, his blades quickly form into his polearm once more, thrusting it forward to strike.]
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Here he can rage forever. He breaks away as the party occurs. And lashes out with a slash of fire. The pole arm is met with his sword.
A low rumbling growl rolls through the air. Despite that his voice is a more resonant version of his usual tone.] There was only one man who smelled like this.
Fought like this.
[It is like coming home. He twists and the fire obeys him. A wave of heat washes out of him like a desert wind. And the pressure of the heat builds as he rains blows. Tartaglia.
He knows humans can return in new lifetimes. But he can’t dare…hope for that. But this is the closest he has to the man he knew all those years ago. And it is too easy to fall into old rhythms.]
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One slash threatens to sever his arm from his body, a sidestep just barely keeping Diluc from claiming it. Another slash comes for his neck, a block that takes all his strength to keep his head attached. The heat seeps through his armor, draining his stamina even faster than the transformation would do by itself, and Tartaglia realizes he has to end this faster than he thought. Abyssal energy coalesces and coats his blades, each clash of their blades pushing the heat backward with his own power.
It's not until he's given himself some room does he address Diluc's statements, his breathing beginning to labor under the duress of the Foul Legacy Transformation.]
A͕͍͖n̢̘d̘̝͜?̝͎̟ W͉̺̻h̞̝͜a̘̟͇t̟̠̻ e͎͕͜x͉͚̪a̫͜c̘̺̞t̡͚̺l̻͔͓y͙̝͔ a̘͔̪r͔̦̝e͓̺͔ y̪͚o͚̫͓u̼̞͜ t͔͚͙r̠͔̠y̫̝i̢̘͖n̠̻̦g̫͔͖ t͔͔͚o̞̺͖ s̢͍̙a͎̼̦y̢͉͙?̻̻̻
[He doesn't consider the possibility of who he is, of why he's always possessed this great strength. But Diluc talks like he knows, and it's got him interested.]
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It's a bad habit to get into. He always puts off his hunger until either Kaeya forces the issue or he feels weakness trying to get him.]
Some humans' wills are so powerful they refuse to be contained to a single lifetime. I would have been one had I not crossed into being night borne.
[He shifts his blade, breathing in, and it's a bad idea. The hunger howls as he brings his blade around to force Tartaglia to defend himself once more.] It is quite interesting that you just as he can use that transformation.
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He hadn't known. For all this time, he'd always felt the pull of something darker beneath his feet wherever he walked, and could utilize it to transform into the beast that he is now. But to hear that, the realization that this power had been inherited shakes him.]
Ț̢̼h̼͎͕a̪͙̞t̻̙͇ c̺͙̠a̢͇͚n̝̟'͕͍̪t͔͜͜ b͉̙e͔̫.̺̺͍
[He says it, but he doesn't believe his own words, and he sounds unconvinced of himself. He's crossing blades with a vampire, there's absolutely no reason why reincarnation should be off the table.]
N̢̝̙g̠̦̠h͙͇-̢͖̪!͚̙͜
[He shoves Diluc off of him, dual blades arcing in for the chance at tasting blood.]
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The heat builds in his body as he says,] The mask. The movement. Even the tidal blades…stronger than before. I suppose it has to do with having a lifetime with it?
[He leaves it a question. All it will take is one touch. One touch. He will take damage from this but once this battle is over. He will feed.
His blood runs from the gashes Childe got in his side.]
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But it's not enough to stop him, and the move has given Diluc the opening he's looking for, touching the dark armor of the Foul Legacy Transformation.]
I̘͉̦.͇͍.͔͉̫.̫̪̠A͚͓̞H̢̞͇H͕͎̻H͔̙͙H̺̺-̢͜!̙̘̙
[He doesn't have a chance to respond, as heat sears through him so hot that his vision goes blurry in an instant, tipped off balance as it's too much for his body to handle at this point. Tartaglia feels his consciousness wane, before everything goes completely black and his body tips.
The transformation flecks and dissipates off of him as he falls, eyes closing as he fades into unconsciousness, the battle over sooner than he thought it would be.]
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The bed’s headboard and foot of it are both carved to look like Celia and calla lilies in a pond. The moment he takes a breath a shadow by the window turns their head. The silver light of the moon catches in red hair and seems to dull it.
Diluc steps fully into the light. His eyes flash gold then settle back to their fiery red. He walks to a chair by the bed and sits down.] You’ve slept for two days.
[Long enough for him to burst into Kaeya’s bedroom and ask quickly for help. Not normally how he operates but Kaeya didn’t ask questions.
Yet.
He picks up his glass of dragon blood from the counter and sips it. He doesn’t like to drink in front of mortals but. Right now he has Childe under a charm to keep him in bed. That battle took a toll on both of them.] I haven’t fought to my full capacity in a long time. It is taking some time to pull the lingering pyro energy out of you. For that you need to stay in bed for ten minutes. I’m almost done.
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Two days?
[There's a lot that goes along with that. Surely the Snezhnayan delegation has been looking for him, one of their Harbingers has disappeared for two days.
I should go, he thinks, but the thought dissipates almost the second it comes into being. No, he should stay. Diluc's mandated it, and Tartaglia finds himself obeying it without question. Sighing, he forgoes trying to sit up and makes himself comfortable, so the vampire can continue his work. He sees why his body feels the way it does, with so much elemental energy he absorbed from the fight.]
I'm honored I was able to push you that far.
[There's a cocky smirk that goes along with that, but it fades shortly afterwards.]
Though I'm sure there's been quite a ruckus without my presence at the talks that are supposed to be occurring between Mondstadt and Snezhnaya. Does anyone even know I'm here?
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[Kaeya had taken one look at the unconscious man and given him a sharp look. He can feel the icy warning that he'd spoken hanging over his head. 'Don't lose what's left of your humanity over him.' He picks up a steaming tray from a hidden table by the window and offers it to him.
The tray contains a tea to help pull the magic out of Childe. A bowl of a thick, hearty boar stew, and freshly baked bread buns.] Sit up and eat. ...you have my permission to tell them of my existence.
It was going to be uncovered one way or the other. It isn't as if it wasn't already suspected I never left my home. I know the files your people have on Diluc Ragvindr.
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Thank you.
[Taking the tray, he glances down at the food, sitting up and debating which he'll start with. Smelling it reminds him of how hungry he is, eating some of the stew a little more ravenously than he'd expected out of himself. Tartaglia sips on the tea, and with every sip he feels that weight leave him little by little.]
Those files are nearly ancient, you know.
[He won't fail to remind Diluc of that.]
They're hardly a look over nowadays, but if I reveal you to the Fatui they'll certainly be pulled and examined with a more critical eye. Are you sure that's what you want?
[And somehow, he doesn't know why he feels like he should protect Diluc from Fatui scrutiny. He normally wouldn't afford anyone this kind of generosity, and yet...he's hesitant to do so now.]
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[Childe offering to shield him could lead the Harbinger into trouble. He feels a need to extend his own protections to him. If only because he found him again.
He shifts and sits up,] Those files will reveal little anyway. But to you I will offer this. My mother was a vampire. My father was human. I was a Dhampir until I crossed over.
My mother’s line is old. We came from Murtan’s fiery lands. Even if I had no vision. I would always have fire.
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[It's quite a history, he'll admit. Hailing all the way from Natlan, and somehow ending up here. He wonders how that worked out, but he doesn't try to probe for more information for a change. Anything he hears will be relayed back to the Fatui, and would be used against Diluc in some kind of scheme or plot.
...He doesn't want to see that. He hates the idea of Diluc getting caught up in some behind-the-scenes plan. The more information they have, the easier it is to dig up more, and find a weakness.]
Just stop while you're ahead. It's going to almost make me believe that I have a conscience about these kinds of things.
[He takes another bite of soup, his strength slowly returning to him with every bite. The tea gets finished off, and it's almost as if the elemental energy in him has finally dissipated. Whatever that was really did the trick...]
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What little he gave him doesn’t really give the Fatui a trail to drag for details. What family in Nathan? Who was his mother? Would the Ragvindrs allow a look at their history? The answer to all of it is uncertain ranging to hell no.] Whether you have a conscience or not is up to you. I never asked.
But anyone who feels compassion towards others and a sense of Justice, is more than they think they are.
You were never one note. You don’t seem to be now.
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