#childe.

I had to do something for the recent event. They’re too cute together. 

Bonus doodles while I tried to figure out their stupid fucking faces

"'Til death do us apart'? Yeah, no, as if I'm letting you go that easily!" and laughter, manic, bordering on something more. Teeth barred to show tiny fangs on full display, pupils blown out. To say that he's enjoying sparring with Childe is putting it lightly.

[ [ STAB ]: sender stabs receiver. ]

@drolliic.

he hates, hates the fact that the way lohen attacked was more artistry than violence, how what would have been a fatalistic blow to a lesser man instead only stunned childe into something like a stupor. whatever footwork stopped momentary, the musical number of clashing blades in their heads coming to a discordant stop as harbinger’s hand lowered to his abdomen, feeling the warm pooling blood soak his glove before ever feeling fiery sting as it began to coarse through the rest of his body. blood wretches from the harbinger’s mouth, viscera streaking across palid skin as he moved to wipe it away and stalk back to his assailant with dizzying determination.

the legacy would not allow its host to die, it barely allotted childe time to rest before blood was demanded for blood. whatever healing salve upon the blade only doubled his remarkable healing progress, flesh and muscle knitting together before childe had any chance to treat it. this was the might of the eleventh harbinger. but he had to admit, it had been some time before an opponent had landed such a precise, beautiful strike. shock turns to elation, the feral gleam in his eye reflecting a foreboding attack.

          “   is that the best you can do, knight of favonius ?   ”

his words came out a gleeful sneer, as the dance between blades resumed, frostbitten metal and riptide blades moving as if in harmonic sync despite the damage they continued to inflict upon the battlefield ; water, drenching and cutting. ice, sharp and deadly in its wake. gods, he was having the time of his life against this vice captain. each alternate vocal a mix between barely restrained laughter, and a short lived cry of triumph. one more hit, one more strike. block, parry, counter attack. childe didn’t have to move anymore, he moved with the knight as if on pure instinct.

it only took one lucky strike to gain the upper hand. wrist pinned, dagger locked in a battle of sheer strength as childe’s hydro blade pressed down more and more force, crushing lohen to the abandoned ruin’s brick lay.

          “   should have slid that knife deeper.   ”   voice a breathy rasp, eyes dark and intense.   “   should have dug it in and twisted, caught it on my insides.   ”