[Childe is, if nothing else, possessed of a strong stomach- and maybe there's something about this whole situation that strikes a familiar chord with him too. Resisting flesh, contorting bones and sinew, organs twisting and warping in ways they were never meant to in accomodation of alien shapes. Foul Legacy takes a similar toll on his body. It's easy to grit his teeth and push through the nausea when he's been through something like it himself, even as viscera oozes into the cuffs of his shirt.
With one final tug, the mask rips free. The force of it sends Childe falling backwards onto his ass, still gripping the slimy remains of his transformation in his hands. His forearms are streaked with it but it's nothing compared with how thoroughly coated the once-snake in front of him is.
The Harbinger blinks at him dumbly for a few moments, eyes flickering across his dripping form-
no subject
With one final tug, the mask rips free. The force of it sends Childe falling backwards onto his ass, still gripping the slimy remains of his transformation in his hands. His forearms are streaked with it but it's nothing compared with how thoroughly coated the once-snake in front of him is.
The Harbinger blinks at him dumbly for a few moments, eyes flickering across his dripping form-
- and flops onto his back with a laugh.]
Wow, that's revolting. You do that every time?