⠀ ⠀scaramouche⠀[familiarity]

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I lost track of the plot halfway through writing this and so there are plotholes-

This got way too long though lmao

Enjoy nevertheless :D

note: y/n has she/her pronouns

"Thank you for the flower miss!" a little girl thanked, holding a small windwheel aster in her hand. She gave you a smile and hopped away to her mother, who mouthed a "thank you".

You returned her gesture with a nod and turned away, holding one last flower in your hand. It was the colour of lavender and held soft delicate petals. You looked down at it, holding it carefully by the stem. Flowers in Snezhnaya were extremely rare now, due to the climate becoming harsher. It was a result of the Fatui wanting to control citizens more, by making them rely on resources provided by them. You had noticed that they enjoyed painting themselves as the heroes.

The flower in your hand was the last of the few you had managed to grow and you knew that after this you would have to move on from your carefree life. It was rather upsetting, considering how it had helped a lot of people through the tough times. At this point though, recovery was long past helping point. You were also struggling to keep yourself alive, having the bare minimum to stay healthy. Rent was being demanded soon and you didn't have enough. Selling flowers for extremely cheap wasn't saving you either - yet you still persisted with it. You sighed as you realised that you had been standing in the same spot. The snow was starting to build up around your shoes.

"Okay," you hummed to yourself, holding the flower close to your chest, "one more to go."

As you walked down the wide streets of town, orange lights from street lamps and shops merged into each other. You felt the anxiety bubbling inside you, knowing that this was final. You wondered who the flower would go to. Maybe a lover, a relative, a grave. Wherever it went, you knew that it wouldn't die in vain.

You were so immersed in your thoughts that you didn't notice when the streets went quiet and the people parted to the side. You didn't notice as you turned an intersection, the footsteps going your way.

The abrupt collision with a figure causedthe flower in your hands to drop to the ground by your side. You watched in horror as someone else stepped towards the intersection, foot above the fragile flower. But the foot never came down. Instead, the person was pushed back slightly, stumbling with a complaint. You looked up, to see wide lavender blue eyes staring at you in uncertainty. His hand was reached out, blocking his companion from walking any further. You studied his features, noticing his peculiar hat and the signature braids on his clothing. You didn't know who he was exactly but his appearance screamed important Fatui Harbinger - and something else that was lost in the back of your head. Despite this, you ignored his dominant aura and reached down to pick up the flower, giving it a gentle spin to check if it was damaged.

"My Lord," the companion said, voice mellow. "Would you like me to remove this woman?"

You froze, a voice in your head whispering that the Fatui had violent ways of dealing with frustrations, no matter how simple. You couldn't tell if your heart was halted or pulsating faster in fear.

"I don't remember giving you the right to issue your own orders," the man in front of you scowled, arm dropping to his side. HIs voice was in a way smoky with a deep resonating echo melted within in words. He spoke with power and bitterness. "And the rest of you, mind your own business."

The crowds murmured as they continued on their paths, warily eyeing him and giving you sorrowful looks. You frowned at this and turned to look at the man in front of you. You were sure you hadn't seen him before since he had never been around the outskirts. Yet something bugged you. He turned the same time you did, and your eyes met. You saw the built up anger in such soft coloured eyes. It just didn't seem right. How could someone with naturally comforting eyes hold a look of such rage? And why did those eyes feel like a well known memory? As quickly as the nostalgic feeling came and went, so did his violent gaze change to an undertone of recognition.

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