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Diluc gritted his teeth, shaking the pain out of his fist until his fingers fell loose. Though he wasn't exactly known for his hand to hand combat skills, that didn’t mean that they didn't exist. Childe was quick to learn that Ragnvindr's bare fists were almost as strong as his claymore. The ginger didn't mind that, however. It simply made the battle even more thrilling.
Neither of them remember exactly how this arrangement started. One fight led to another and several brawls later, here they were, sparring for the hell of it. It was a form of training and, though neither of them would willingly admit it, quality time. Dragonspine was rather secluded, meaning that people would never know of the two meeting up. Childe enjoys the familiar sight of snow, and Diluc enjoys fighting Childe. They both seemed to do better expressing emotion this way than any other way. Besides, what could possibly be more intimate than trading passionate blows?
The beginning of this tradition was a mystery and the ending was something both Childe and Diluc refused to ponder. All they know is to enjoy it while they can. All they know is not to lose.
The two meet in the center of the little spot they’ve found and get into their preferred default stances. Ragnvindr flexes his hand for a moment before forming a fist again. Then he leads things with a fierce right hook. Tartaglia is able to block it but he follows up with a powerful kick from the left.
Another kick accompanied by a punch. There's little to no talking between the two fighters. The only noises being made are hardy grunts and the sound of skin hitting skin. That, and the noises you’d typically associate with Dragonspine– the eerie song of the wind and the distant sound of hilichurls chanting in a language no one understood.
Diluc kicks towards Childe twice, both kicks being flighty and noncommittal. It was as though the redhead was casually testing the waters. Then he launches with yet another heavy right hook.
Their fighting styles were both similar and different. They were close in strength and skill, however Diluc was more grounded, mainly focused on what's in front of him. Ajax was much quicker on his feet. He was nimble, always thinking of what would come next. What would be the second move? How about the third? The fourth? The fifth? These are the things Childe thought about. Battling was an art for him, an art that he appreciated greatly.
There's a new noise now– the sound of panting. There's a temporary pause where they both catch their breath, looking at each other with immediate understanding. A momentary truce . Then, the battle continues. Ragnvindr strikes towards Childe's chest. He responds by blocking with his left arm. He’s been forced into defense– not that he really minds. It’s rare for the ginger to have to focus on actually protecting himself.
Seeing the small beads of sweat roll down Diluc's forehead feels almost like a privilege. To make him sweat in the middle of this chilly wasteland. . the two were getting intense.
A grin makes its way onto Tartaglia's face. Diluc offers him a challenge and maybe that's why he enjoys the other so much. It's exciting, the feeling of finally meeting your fated equal. It’s even more exciting to be sparring with him. Perhaps that's why he keeps looking at Ragnvindr's eyes so much.
Eye contact is normal within a fight and yet, Diluc can't help but wonder what's so alluring about his face. He ignores Childe to the best of his ability, dismissing his behavior as him being. . well. . him. Insufferable, but for now, tolerable.
They continue on, brawling with each other. Occasionally a hit would land, and the raw sound of skin slapping skin could be heard throughout the snow. The hits were hard but not as hard as they could’ve been. Truthfully, neither would be happy if the other was dead. As equals, they keep each other in balance. If Diluc ever spun off the rails one day. . Well, for the sake of Mondstadt, he’d count on Childe to pull him back to reality.
Ajax kicked towards Ragnvindr, landing a blow on his left thigh. The noise that comes from it is a dull thud. Diluc responds with a sharp punch to the face, which also lands. His fist connects with Childe's jaw and for a moment the ginger is stunned. He stumbles, and Diluc takes this time to do a simple foot sweep on his right leg, effectively tripping the harbinger.
Once Tartaglia hit the snowy ground Ragnvindr stood above him, putting one foot on top of his chest. Diluc is merciful enough to not allow the weight of his foot to crush Childe's sternum. He looks down at the man beneath him, while Ajax can only look up.
What a sight to behold.
“Is there something funny on my face? Or do you just need your eyes checked?”
“What? I can’t admire a nice face?” The tip of Childe’s nose is a nice shade of pink, undoubtedly due to the cold. Diluc’s nose is the same way but for different reasons.
The redhead huffs. He was the victor this round, but it didn’t particularly feel like it. Even with a boot on his chest, Ajax is still cocky. For a moment, he considers pressing his foot down, just to see the harbinger writhe beneath him. "..you’re impossible to deal with.”
In the end, Ragnvindr moves his boot from Childe’s chest, turning away and running a hand through some of his fiery hair. He crouches down, finding a twig or two within the snow and picking them up. They’ll be useful. There's a few minutes of silence where they both take a moment to do their own thing. Childe takes the time to catch his breath while Diluc takes the time to recollect himself.
Then Childe gets up, brushing off some of the snow from his torso. “I meant it, you know. You have some nice features.”
“And you.. you fight well.” For once, he decides to play nice. Diluc readjusts his coat and after a brief pause he starts to speak again. “Come over here and I'll make us a fire.”
It’s… far from the best.. but it’s certainly not the worst response Diluc has given to Tartaglia. In fact, it’s pretty fitting. The awkwardness is familiar. It’s comfortable. The hesitation is amusing. The blows they traded were passionate, more passionate than kissing or anything else of that nature. Neither of them knew how this started and neither knew how it would even end. All they knew was to enjoy it while they could. All they knew was not to lose.