[ he can't lie, even now while incapacitated and chained and surely just hours away from death if not sooner, the fantasy occurs to him whether he could lunge just that bit further and snap his jaws around the body of this man, take down just one of these arrogant bloodthirsty humans before they take his own life just like they are to all those unfortunate souls on the battlefield. how trivial life is to humans, even the life of a noble illuminated beast like himself. and there's something about this prince that suggests he'd be either a too-tempting meal to die for or maybe he'd struggle all the way down, with the taste of spite that would poison his meat and give zhongli indigestion.
but it'd be just a moment of satisfaction of a mouthful of blood and body, in exchange for what would surely be a painful and humiliating death at the hands of knights once the kingdom's army returned. so he refrains. and when he looks into the prince's rather maddened expression as childe claws at his own wound, he fancies he could see an abyss staring back at him, something far more potent than should be the ability of a mere human.
it makes him wonder what could come of lending this prince his power.
but there's no turning back from it now. the magic the prince offers him is dark and possibly blasphemous. the power zhongli offers is, actually, foreign. it's clear that he is not a dragon from these lands. he has no wings, his body is long and sinuous rather than stout, his mane bristles like a lion's whereas almost the entirety of western dragons are scaled. and his magic is... binding, golden, rich with the fundamental essense of earth and metal and iron and ore. it entertwines and locks and chains and there's some irony that he fell to these western mages' binding spells when his own is probably far more powerful, but what can he say? archers' greatbows had brought him down and humans are a terribly formidable force in great numbers. his eyes gleam as his earth magic twines around childe. he tastes the offering of the abyss that childe gives him, the taste of childe's lifeblood, as his serpentine tongue extends his own to childe.
the pact is sealed then. geo energy winds around childe to warm and restore him, knitting together that fatal wound and to empower him--for a price. maybe his tongue and speech, or something else. the pact price would possibly be something zhongli would demand but he's a bit preoccupied with this: his own power swelling, strengthened by childe's. he roars as he slices through his bonds, rearing up free and in ravenous, raging full health.
the way he turns his molten eyes on the battlefield suggests he might like to take vengeance on the army that had subdued him. ]
[ it's strange, feeling his wounds knit up like that, the agony and pain assaulting his soul fading until there was nothing at all but the warm, soothing sensation of ...
well, he can only assume it's the dragon's life force. perhaps even some ancient magicks at work. he's never been close enough to a creature like this for comparison.
it doesn't take away the stains in his uniform, though, which is fine. it's a stark reminder of the suffering he's endured, each drop of his enemy's blood soiling clothing a badge he'll wear with pride.
even if he ends up being devoured by this great beast anyway, at least he'd regained enough strength to hurt the creature on the way down.
and for a moment he does think the dragon has tricked him. the pain throbbing on his tongue is an unfamiliar brand, but try as he might to cry out in alarm, no sound comes. no words form from his lips and Childe is left to endure what's being done to him with tears edging the corners of his vision.
when it's all done and over with, he'll try again to speak. but of course, nothing comes out. it's the mark of their contract. a hand slaps against the dragon's thigh and his eyes narrow in accusation before he points at his mouth, tongue jutting out as though to show proof of what's been done to him.
but he also sees the way the creature looks out towards the battlefield. he sees the bloodlust in his eyes and feels it resonate with the one in his heart.
it's not like he'd stay his hand should the beast decide to indulge in a bit of slaughter. why not?
[ the pact price could possibly be decided on the flip of some cosmic coin, whether it's the divine beast's choice or even some higher power's, a cruel god's if a god might allow this slaughter in the world. zhongli regards childe with something like draconic amusement, a huff of ash-hinted breath from between his bared teeth, reptile laughter. ]
So that's your half of our contract, fulfilled. Your tongue, in exchange for a second chance at life. [ and of course in exchange for zhongli's power. in his opinion, more than a fair trade. childe can either learn sign language or, hell, violence is a universal language isn't it? and it's one they could both speak.
this time the dragon's tongue slithers out to brush against childe's mouth, against childe's speechless tongue if he doesn't pull back in time. amusement and the new bond between them might endear this violent prince to him with a sudden wash of fickle bestial interest, the interest a predator might have towards prey that's saved its life. when they've recovered each others' lives, he would forego eating this one--at least in the conventional sense. ]
Shall I show you the extent of my power, now at your disposal?
[ he doesn't quite have the power of fire that western dragons do, but with a rear of his head and a flash of eyes, he crushes his claws into the ground and--
the very earth quakes and splits in massive fissures across the battlefield, swallowing up entire phalanxes as soldiers find themselves without solid ground underneath their feet and fall into the deep depths of gorges where fragile human bodies might break. ]
[ the furl of tongue against him brings with it the taste of blood and something else that he can only imagine is dragonspit. it startles him into a jolt of surprise, brows immediately knitting together in disgust at the initial taste.
although he's unsure if the pact will allow the dragon to read his thoughts, that doesn't keep him from thinking in very clear, certain terms: you're disgusting. notably, it lacks the ire and the hatred that such a phrase would normally possess, which can only mean that the pact is doing wonders for their friendship.
but that's a thought for another time; now, Childe looks, his gaze flooding with awe and a little reverences as the great beast splits the earth beneath the chaotic battlefield. he watches as the soldiers he can see gets swallowed up, disappearing into the depths of the planet with rising screams of agony and horror. some of them were his own men - the few that had scant moments to live - and it's perhaps a sign of their pact that he feels nothing for the lives lost.
is it his feelings, or is it the dragon's? perhaps a mixture of both, especially since they wouldn't have had much time to live anyway.
his gaze turns back to the great beast and he regards it with some modicum of respect, though even that's a generous statement. the taste of dragonspit on his tongue is still lingering, but it's not as aggressively rancid as it had been at first.
[ disgusting, him? first of all, yes. second of all, how petty and capricious humans can be, to be so wary of a little saliva or tongue near their mouth, when he'd literally tasted each others' lifeblood. as far as body fluids go, he might just have more of childe's in mind to taste, sooner or later.
he's bonded to the human this intimately after all. he may as well make the most of it, eventually. ]
A trick, you call it? How difficult you are to impress, I see. [ an exhale of warm breath, like smoke, as his dragon's smile widens with teeth. ] And yes, of course I can fly. Your court mages and archers shot me down and tied me down to the earth with spells, when they have sheer numbers on their side and there are only so many of them I could target at once. [ so, the point is, fuck mages and archers. ]
Would you like to experience it, earthbound human prince? Flight.
[ as he lowers his body and hindlimbs, his whiskers atwitch, ears pricked towards childe as his golden eyes fix on him with the gaze of a predator making such a maganimous offer to a smaller creature.
what a proud creature he is, he never would have imagined offering his back to a human in his entire thousands of years of long life. but they are bonded now, and childe is now this special to him. ]
[ flight, the dragon says, and Childe thinks he must be dreaming. before his parents had been slaughtered by the wicked black dragon so many years ago he respected the great, winged kings of the sky, revered them, even. his envy at the ease with which they could take flight was unmatched, wonder and awe warring with each other in his young mind.
perhaps a long time ago his younger self would have jumped at the chance to ride a dragon. now, it only feels like a necessity. less for amusement and more for utility, a chance to escape the site of the battle unscathed and live on to fight another one.
he still takes great care in mounting the beast, more so because his body still carries the phantom aches and pains brought about by the exertion of the fight. there aren't any harnesses, no holsters and no reins with which to grab, so he can only trust that the creature will take care enough not to drop him and send him plummeting to his death while it's airborne.
the most he can manage is to grasp at one of the golden ridges cresting his back, and he does so with fingers slippery with blood and ichor.
You'll not drop me comes the warning, even though he's fairly certain it's unnecessary. ]
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no subject
but it'd be just a moment of satisfaction of a mouthful of blood and body, in exchange for what would surely be a painful and humiliating death at the hands of knights once the kingdom's army returned. so he refrains. and when he looks into the prince's rather maddened expression as childe claws at his own wound, he fancies he could see an abyss staring back at him, something far more potent than should be the ability of a mere human.
it makes him wonder what could come of lending this prince his power.
but there's no turning back from it now. the magic the prince offers him is dark and possibly blasphemous. the power zhongli offers is, actually, foreign. it's clear that he is not a dragon from these lands. he has no wings, his body is long and sinuous rather than stout, his mane bristles like a lion's whereas almost the entirety of western dragons are scaled. and his magic is... binding, golden, rich with the fundamental essense of earth and metal and iron and ore. it entertwines and locks and chains and there's some irony that he fell to these western mages' binding spells when his own is probably far more powerful, but what can he say? archers' greatbows had brought him down and humans are a terribly formidable force in great numbers. his eyes gleam as his earth magic twines around childe. he tastes the offering of the abyss that childe gives him, the taste of childe's lifeblood, as his serpentine tongue extends his own to childe.
the pact is sealed then. geo energy winds around childe to warm and restore him, knitting together that fatal wound and to empower him--for a price. maybe his tongue and speech, or something else. the pact price would possibly be something zhongli would demand but he's a bit preoccupied with this: his own power swelling, strengthened by childe's. he roars as he slices through his bonds, rearing up free and in ravenous, raging full health.
the way he turns his molten eyes on the battlefield suggests he might like to take vengeance on the army that had subdued him. ]
no subject
well, he can only assume it's the dragon's life force. perhaps even some ancient magicks at work. he's never been close enough to a creature like this for comparison.
it doesn't take away the stains in his uniform, though, which is fine. it's a stark reminder of the suffering he's endured, each drop of his enemy's blood soiling clothing a badge he'll wear with pride.
even if he ends up being devoured by this great beast anyway, at least he'd regained enough strength to hurt the creature on the way down.
and for a moment he does think the dragon has tricked him. the pain throbbing on his tongue is an unfamiliar brand, but try as he might to cry out in alarm, no sound comes. no words form from his lips and Childe is left to endure what's being done to him with tears edging the corners of his vision.
when it's all done and over with, he'll try again to speak. but of course, nothing comes out. it's the mark of their contract. a hand slaps against the dragon's thigh and his eyes narrow in accusation before he points at his mouth, tongue jutting out as though to show proof of what's been done to him.
but he also sees the way the creature looks out towards the battlefield. he sees the bloodlust in his eyes and feels it resonate with the one in his heart.
it's not like he'd stay his hand should the beast decide to indulge in a bit of slaughter. why not?
Go on, then. ]
no subject
So that's your half of our contract, fulfilled. Your tongue, in exchange for a second chance at life. [ and of course in exchange for zhongli's power. in his opinion, more than a fair trade. childe can either learn sign language or, hell, violence is a universal language isn't it? and it's one they could both speak.
this time the dragon's tongue slithers out to brush against childe's mouth, against childe's speechless tongue if he doesn't pull back in time. amusement and the new bond between them might endear this violent prince to him with a sudden wash of fickle bestial interest, the interest a predator might have towards prey that's saved its life. when they've recovered each others' lives, he would forego eating this one--at least in the conventional sense. ]
Shall I show you the extent of my power, now at your disposal?
[ he doesn't quite have the power of fire that western dragons do, but with a rear of his head and a flash of eyes, he crushes his claws into the ground and--
the very earth quakes and splits in massive fissures across the battlefield, swallowing up entire phalanxes as soldiers find themselves without solid ground underneath their feet and fall into the deep depths of gorges where fragile human bodies might break. ]
no subject
although he's unsure if the pact will allow the dragon to read his thoughts, that doesn't keep him from thinking in very clear, certain terms: you're disgusting. notably, it lacks the ire and the hatred that such a phrase would normally possess, which can only mean that the pact is doing wonders for their friendship.
but that's a thought for another time; now, Childe looks, his gaze flooding with awe and a little reverences as the great beast splits the earth beneath the chaotic battlefield. he watches as the soldiers he can see gets swallowed up, disappearing into the depths of the planet with rising screams of agony and horror. some of them were his own men - the few that had scant moments to live - and it's perhaps a sign of their pact that he feels nothing for the lives lost.
is it his feelings, or is it the dragon's? perhaps a mixture of both, especially since they wouldn't have had much time to live anyway.
his gaze turns back to the great beast and he regards it with some modicum of respect, though even that's a generous statement. the taste of dragonspit on his tongue is still lingering, but it's not as aggressively rancid as it had been at first.
A good trick.
Can you fly, dragon? ]
no subject
he's bonded to the human this intimately after all. he may as well make the most of it, eventually. ]
A trick, you call it? How difficult you are to impress, I see. [ an exhale of warm breath, like smoke, as his dragon's smile widens with teeth. ] And yes, of course I can fly. Your court mages and archers shot me down and tied me down to the earth with spells, when they have sheer numbers on their side and there are only so many of them I could target at once. [ so, the point is, fuck mages and archers. ]
Would you like to experience it, earthbound human prince? Flight.
[ as he lowers his body and hindlimbs, his whiskers atwitch, ears pricked towards childe as his golden eyes fix on him with the gaze of a predator making such a maganimous offer to a smaller creature.
what a proud creature he is, he never would have imagined offering his back to a human in his entire thousands of years of long life. but they are bonded now, and childe is now this special to him. ]
no subject
perhaps a long time ago his younger self would have jumped at the chance to ride a dragon. now, it only feels like a necessity. less for amusement and more for utility, a chance to escape the site of the battle unscathed and live on to fight another one.
he still takes great care in mounting the beast, more so because his body still carries the phantom aches and pains brought about by the exertion of the fight. there aren't any harnesses, no holsters and no reins with which to grab, so he can only trust that the creature will take care enough not to drop him and send him plummeting to his death while it's airborne.
the most he can manage is to grasp at one of the golden ridges cresting his back, and he does so with fingers slippery with blood and ichor.
You'll not drop me comes the warning, even though he's fairly certain it's unnecessary. ]