insurmountable | just call my name / i'm yours to tame

Current Music: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TjMPGd20Ryk&ab_channel=LOVELESS

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.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Diluc draws his claymore. The red and black blade is scarred from many battles. Wolf’s gravestone, a blade of ancient times.

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.]

[Absolutely thrilling.

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.]

[It feels like he’s walking back into a time long ago. Diluc dodges the spinning blade but it slows his charge by a hair. He adjusts his plans accordingly. His flames spill out of him to a shape a copy of his claymore in flame.

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.]

[The centuries of practice Diluc is displaying of wielding a Vision impresses him, watching the other man set his battle strategy right before his eyes. There's a few things he believes he can infer here of what Diluc is doing, grinning wickedly as he comes up with his own strategy to deal with it. Trying to make the battlefield work to his advantage. Sounds fun.

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.]

[He is driven back but he weathers the hits with his flame claymore. Each strike wears it down as the water eats the blade. He takes a step back then another. The wolf gravestone is in the air. He has to pull a risk here.

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.]

[The kick connects, a wall of force that slams into his stomach that sends him flying backward. It hurts, it knocks the wind out of him, but at the same time he's satisfied with it, if not glad for it. Further proof that his opponent is worthy of his time and effort, and it only fuels him more to see what kind of strength lies below the surface.

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?

[The answer is a strike. Diluc abruptly closes the distance and moves to shoulder check him. His eyes are an inferno. He opens his mouth, fangs glinting and his voice is rough. In a way, sometimes he is more draconic than Kaeya.] I won’t break you, worthy successor of the 11th seat.

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.]

[He takes the shoulder check, the strength behind it shoving him backwards quite a bit, but his wicked grin doesn't cease. However, he hadn't expected what happens next, understanding now why Diluc has forced some distance between the two of them.

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.]

[The smell of ozone and water mixing with the abyss. It is a scent he thought he would never breathe in again. It’s all too easy to press down against that hand. To fall into the familiar.

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.]

[There's a distinct change that he senses from Diluc as his blow is blocked by the vampire's greatsword, something he can't quite place his finger on. Has he relaxed, let go of all his tension? The flow of his attacks, as he parries and counters, blocks and dodges, it's like a steady rhythm of something familiar. The warrior doesn't even have time to contemplate the words, his focus on the fight.

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.]

I don't know. [He doesn't dare hope. The taste of the abyss. The way it bites. It's all like he's walking back in time. The hunger builds in him. That familiar need to taste blood. He hasn't fed in months.

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.

[The words soak into him as he blocks Diluc's blade again, the strength behind the swing making his arms shake with the effort. Sparks fly from the force, the Harbinger gritting his teeth as he holds both blades in place.

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.]

[He lets the blades graze his side as he takes the chance to move closer to Tartaglia. If he can get in touching distance he can end this. Both of them are nearing the end of their endurance.

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.]

[The heat is getting almost too much to bear through the armor, and his breath start to run ragged from the effort and the inferno that exudes from Diluc's body. The vampire takes a risky maneuver, and his blades find flesh as he catches Diluc's side.

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.]

[When Childe comes to consciousness the moon is high in the sky. The bed under him is a simple but elegant bed by a window over looking a vast vineyard. A single old style lantern sits on a bedside table. The room is decorated in wooden walls with fine carvings into the edges of the wood to form whorls of wind.

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.

[Tartaglia slowly comes to wakefulness, his body heavy and sore. In his grogginess, he looks around the room confused, not recognizing where he is or what time it is. The Harbinger doesn't notice the man in the window at first, as he tries to sit up and take in his surroundings, until he sees movement. The familiar sight of red against the moonlight tells him exactly what happened and where he is now, blinking away sleep in surprise.]

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?

It has been understood you found something you wished to investigate further. You'll update them as soon as you find what you wish to know. The Calvary Captain has supported this view. Don't concern yourself with why he is aiding this.

[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.

Edited 2022-12-28 15:48 (UTC)

[So a cover story had been created to hide what had actually happened, and Diluc was even allowing some of the truth to be steeped in it instead of a complete fabrication. Considering how he's treated his own existence so far, it's clever...and it's going to make him sound crazy to some of the underlings who aren't in the know about things when he gets back. Maybe this is what he deserves...]

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.]

They have been trying to pry into the history surrounding Kaeya. It would do to distract them with a much more dangerous threat. One they forgot about.

[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.

You really shouldn't be telling me this.

[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...]

I don’t intend to tell you anything else. This is enough. [He says as he releases the charm magic from Childe. He doesn’t need to stay in bed any longer.

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.

[It's subtle, but he notices the release on his mind when the charm magic ends. That urge to leave returns, but now he understands why it was there to begin with- Diluc was making sure that he stayed put to finish healing. Inwardly, he's not sure how to feel about that, especially because of what the vampire has just said.]

You think so?

[He almost scoffs, to say something like that about him right to his face like that. Diluc acts like he knows him, which bothers him even more because...he just might, even if he doesn't fully understand or want to accept it.]

You made this suggestion during our battle. Do you really believe I'm him? A shadow of the past given life again? C'mon, even I don't believe that.

[He says it, but even Tartaglia isn't completely convinced of his own words.]

You misunderstand what reincarnation is and does. [Diluc says as he picks up his goblet. The cold the blood inside gives off makes him shiver once. He still drinks.] Those who reincarnate are not shadows. If they were blades, they would be glowing white hot.

Their spirits are too powerful to be contained in one cycle of life. There's much unfinished that carries over. And the power of their spirit is folded over, hammered into an even stronger weapon. You are more than you've ever been just because you passed through death's door and refused to stay there.

It leaves a mark. To those of us who passed through the door and changed, became other. We see it. [He swirls his goblet and takes another sip.] And no one has used Foul Legacy since him. Or could. I never knew how he got it. But I know when someone has been through a crucible of survival.

[He looks on as he listens, before letting his head fall to look at the back of his hand, as if he may find a mark there that symbolizes the journey through death's grasp that Diluc has so described. But there's nothing there, it's just the same hand he's always had his entire life.]

...To be honest, I don't even know how I know how to use it.

[His voice quiets, looking at the blanket draped over his body.]

It's always been there, a pull at the soles of my feet no matter where I walk. I've always instinctively known how to use it, even when I was a kid.

[He doesn't mention how much it frightened him at first, until he'd gotten used to it, when the battle lust began to show its head within his mind.]

But there's one last thing I need to ask- you could of ended it all back there, and yet I find myself in your care, under a spell that kept me from trying to escape. Why? I serve no purpose to you, and if anything I stand as a symbol of an organization that has ruined cities in the past. Tell me, why did you help me after defeating me?

[There's a moment of silence as Diluc drinks the blood. The answer comes immediately like a spark of flame heating the air.] It is true it would have been easier to end you. That was true back when we were both mortals.

And it is not the fondness of the past that stayed my hand. [He sets the goblet down. He can easily recall the worried glint in Kaeya's eye. The set of his jaw when he told him this would only bring pain. And continues.]

Despite who you work for, I sense no evil in you. You carry the stain of the Abyss and yet it merely saps at your life. You do not twist. One day if you face me as a true enemy on the battlefield. I will kill you and drink to your memory.

But, as it stands I want to see what you do. How the threads of the future spin while you walk the land. What will you grow into?

[His eyes flash and for a moment it is like looking into the sun. Too bright, and vicious.] Should you fall to the Abyss or become evil, I will hunt you. For if you become evil, you will become a threat to all you love. I will step in and lay your body in the snow and ice of your home, so your beloved Archon and the land itself can cleanse your soul as you pass.

[The words are like a binding contract. He relaxes, eyes closed as the pressure vanishes.] This I promise.

just call my name / i'm yours to tame

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)