Of Calm Calamities

Of Calm Calamities (4)

It took Childe all of ten minutes to get ready. He had to unwrap the bandage around his stomach and re-tie it properly, though he really wished he didn't. In the morning rays of sun that shone into the cavern, the cut looked even more gruesome than it did last night, though that wasn't surprising in the slightest. At least he'd had the strength to wash away some of the blood last night - Childe could only imagine how much more morbid the wound would've been if the dark red gash that reached at least five centimeters into his stomach was still surrounded by a pool of his own blood. Now, except for the matted stains that came from the fabric drenched red pressing into his skin and a cut larger than even the ones he'd gotten in the abyss, he looked more or less normal.

The blood started to swell at the top of the wound with the lack of pressure, and Childe hurriedly wrapped the stained ribbons around him once again, biting back the scream that threatened to escape. If he wanted to have at least a tiny chance of survival, he'd need to put as much pressure on the cut as possible, and sweet Tsaritsa, didn't that feel like torture to do. By the time he was done tying the end of the bandage in place, his forehead was damp with sweat and his throat felt raw from screaming, but that didn't matter. There was no one to hear him here. Childe - no, Tartaglia - didn't need to pretend to be strong if no one could see him be weak. No one could hear him scream, so he might as well scream as much as he wanted.

He gasped for breath in an attempt to keep himself balanced. This was it. He just needed to transform now, he just needed to get it over with and fight his way out, and then everything would be okay. No one was coming for him. Zhongli wasn't coming. He probably didn't even know that Childe was missing, but that was okay. Childe made peace with that while putting himself through the pain of attempting to tend to his wound. If Zhongli wasn't going to come to him, he'd just need to come to Zhongli instead. Once his vision stopped swimming and he no longer tasted blood on his tongue, Childe dragged himself to the edge of the cavern, staying in a hunched over position - he found that it made the excruciating pain a little more bearable. 

This was fine. He was fine. He wasn't in pain, he wasn't dying. Nope, not at all. Childe took in a deep breath, ignoring how it shot a bolt of electrocuted agony down his spine, and reached into the well of power that his vision and delusion gave him. Activating his vision was easy. All he needed was a little concentration on the humidity around him, and his vision would comply with whatever it was that he wanted. The delusion had always been a little more tricky to handle, probably because of its darker nature. With the storm of hydro slowly forming around him in dark clouds of pure elemental energy that made Childe grit his teeth, he called for the familiar feeling of sparks shooting through his body and dancing over his skin. He felt his vision heat up on his belt, the same way that it always did when he poured his strength into activating both elements at once. The delusion, however, remained stone-cold, even when the first sparks of electro started bouncing over his arms.

The gray cloud that had started forming around him became streaked with purple as delusion and vision forged together, spreading into a thin layer of armor that seemed to cover Childe's entire body. The cold of the two elements combined almost forced him to break his concentration with a gasp, but Childe couldn't afford to lose focus - it was hard enough to trigger his transformation in his normal state, but being already weakened and suffering from blood loss, he only had one chance. He grit his teeth and pulled harder on the flow of energy, channeling it into one direct line that tore from inside out, reshaping and twisting his body. He thought he might have screamed as he finished the transition from Childe to Tartaglia, but he wasn't sure. 

It took Chil- Tartaglia a few seconds to realize that he'd really done it. He'd managed to shift into Foul Legacy for the fourth time in only a few weeks, and he was still alive. The constant crackle of lightning that surrounded his mutated form was a constant reminder of two things. One - he needed to move quickly if he wanted to remain without harsh repercussions, and two - he had a chance of surviving. If the transformation hadn't killed him when it reformed his body, then it wouldn't kill him when he changed back, so he only needed to avoid getting killed by the ruin guards. Thankfully, in this form, it would be much easier to do - the manifested body, unlike his mortal one, was injury-free. He was able to move as freely as usual, with the only restriction being his already-drained supply of elemental energy, but the second he'd change back into his normal form, the wound on his stomach would only get worse.