My eyes followed the swish of his veil as if it were a swinging clock trying to hypnotise me to sleep. Apparently, the 'nearby' abandoned lodge was in fact a good hour long walk and we were still yet to catch sight of a small, deserted house in the biggest forest of Snezhnaya. From time to time, I would skip on the branches of the trees or match my steps to the footprints left behind by Scaramouche. The journey was awfully boring.
We had agreed not to make any conversation for the sake of keeping our arguments to the minimum but the winds that rattled by were gossiping like a gathering of mothers and it was giving me a painful headache. So, my next best course of action was to stare at the vieil of his hat that had never seemed so pretty as it did now in the midst of a winter forest.
Suddenly, my hand was reaching out and I could feel the fabric of it. It was silky and soft. Just how I imagined it would feel. I've never known what different fabrics feel like. I can hardly feel the texture of my own skin, let alone the material of my clothes. It was still so hard to wrap my head around all the things that had happened recently. I might have been hasty when jumping to make a deal with the Harbinger in front of me but I don't think I regretted any of it yet.
Sure, he can't be conversed with but i'm sure we can come to an understanding one day. Perhaps this day won't come for many years but i'm in no hurry. I've always suffered with the habit of trying to see the best in people, trying to befriend anyone I meet. Somewhere beneath the hateful glares and spiteful words, I was upset that he immediately chose to dislike me. I wondered what I could have possibly done to make him so distant and easily irritated. This mission didn't require us to be friendly, that I know. For that reason, I won't try to make him like me. However I would like to know why he shows such animosity towards me.
"What are you doing?! Get off," snapped Scaramouche.
He manoeuvred the veil till it was behind him and out of my reach. Once again, he was sporting a vexed scowl that was likely because of me. I couldn't avoid sighing helplessly. The Sixth Harbinger was completely unapproachable.
After giving me a warning with the lasers shooting from his eyes, he turned around gracefully and marched ahead. How does he do that? Everything he does looks as if it's part of a performance or a dance. He makes it look as if he's a lily floating on still water. I envied his lack of clumsiness. Scaramouche was basically the epitome of perfection. Not even his looks could be faulted. If only that leering sneer and cruel laugh didn't taint his sophisticated image.
I chose to match my step with his and walk by his side rather than follow behind him like a lost puppy. Studying his side profile discreetly, I noticed how soft his hair looked and I had the sudden urge to run my hands through it. I've never felt what hair feels like.
"Can I touch your hair?" I asked curiously.
He gave me an incredulous look. "Sure. That is, if you want to lose a hand of course."
I pursed my lips and looked away with disappointment when another question cropped up. "Can I hold your hand then?"
"No, of course you can't," he frowned at me. "What is wrong with you? Why are you asking these questions all of a sudden? And what did you mean earlier when you asked if I can touch you?"
I stopped walking and decided to demonstrate my answer before explaining. Reaching down to the ground, I attempted to pick up a twig that only whisked right through my hand. The snow refused to be touched by me either.
"Because I'm more wind than human, other humans can't touch me and objects that aren't of divine sources merely go through me. I can't even feel my own skin really. However, this doesn't apply to divine beings such as Archons and apparently you which is why I had such a surprised reaction to having a physical body when you uh... tried to strangle me to death then impale me with your sword," I stated bluntly. "If I focus my anemo energy to particular parts of my body, I can hold regular objects for short periods of time. It doesn't work on people unfortunately."
Scaramouche watched me with an unidentifiable gaze before turning ahead and continuing his walk as if he hadn't heard a thing. He tends to do this a lot now that I've noticed. It's as if everyone and everything is too boring for him to hold his attention to it for more than 5 minutes. Well, that's what I thought anyway. Once I'd caught up with him he asked another question.
"So... You've never been able to touch anyone before?" he asked in a cautious manner.
"Well, not exactly. There used to be other human wind spirits, my friends, but they returned to the zephyrs after the Archon War because of injuries that ended their lives. With us, it was possible to almost feel what humans feel when they touch but the feeling is now long lost. After all, it was a long time ago," I explained. "Your turn to answer a question now!"
"What?" demanded Scaramouche as he whipped towards me with confusion.
"A truth for a truth, remember? So far, I've answered..." I counted on my fingers. "Four of your questions. Meaning you owe me four truths. Ready for question one?"
Before I could get a response, Scaramouche had spotted something in the distance and his expression had turned wary. Upon opening my mouth to ask a question, he lifted a single finger up to silence me before grabbing my arm and pulling me out of the dirt path we had trekked on. As he dragged us away, I followed his line of sight and was met with a rickety, wooden cottage that looked as if it had seen better days. The wooden planks had become almost black with age and dirt.
Scaramouche took his hat off and let it disappear into thin air before we crouched down behind a tree for whatever reason he believed was necessary. His hand was still holding my forearm and for some reason, I liked the solid feeling of someone else. I felt more solid and real than ever before, I felt like a human. Soon enough however, he let go and my body returned to its hollow nature taking all the warmth with him.
"The chimney. Take a look," he whispered.
I did as he suggested and picked up on a line of smoke trailing away and getting caught up in the leaves of the forest.
"I thought you said it was abandoned," I whispered back.
"Yes, well not anymore apparently," he snapped.
"So we walked all this way for nothing? Shouldn't have expected anything less from you Scaramouche," I snapped back with the same force.
He clenched his teeth, making his jaw tense as he glared at me. Only now did I realise how close we were. I could see his long lashes and his skin that held no imperfections. Without his hat, the light could really illuminate his face and I felt like he had stepped out of the shadows for the first time. Today, his eyes were the colour of dark sapphires and the red that lined them only enhanced the glow. He was undeniably attractive and I resisted the urge to roll my eyes at the waste of such beauty when his mouth could only produce shit.
"We aren't leaving. I'm going to get rid of whoever is inside and we are going to do exactly as I planned earlier. Understand?" he spoke through gritted teeth.
I sighed before nodding. As we watched for any movement from the house, I attempted to send or request for the nearby breezes to slip in and gather some information that might give us an advantage. Unfortunately, they came back with nothing. I frowned to myself until it was explained that the smoke from the chimney was blocking any entry and all the entrances were sealed shut. How inconvenient.
"Shall I poke my head through the wall and scare the resident into unconsciousness?"
"You can do that?" asked Scaramouche sceptically.
I grinned at him mischievously in response to which he narrowed his eyes and turned down my suggestion. He chose to remain seated here and wait for the right moment to pounce. When this moment would be, I could never know. He stopped responding to me after a minute or so of pestering him. In the end, we sat in not-so-blissful silence waiting for something or someone to show up. I slumped against the tree and sat down on the snow. I could hardly feel it anyway so it didn't bother me but Scaramouche was more reluctant to do the same.
"This is booooring," I whined.
Silence.
"Stop ignoring me, Scaramouche," I said, tugging on his sleeve.
Continued silence.
"If you don't talk to me, I'll try and hug you."
He turned to me with a sharp gaze before sighing and rubbing his temples clear of an oncoming headache. Then, he gave up and sat down on the snow beside me, our arms brushing against each other lightly. For some reason, I felt the need to shuffle away and give him space. Scaramouche seemed very opposed to me touching him; for that reason, I didn't want to make the situation worse and make him uncomfortable. The one person in my reach who could make my body physical was someone who hated me. Quite tragic, don't you think?
"Can we just storm the place down?" I huffed.
"If it'll shut you up, then fine. Let's go. Stay behind me at all times," he decided.
I beamed at him for finally taking one of my suggestions to which his gaze dropped to my lips. Something flickered in his eyes before it disintegrated immediately. It happened almost too quickly to catch but by the time I'd noticed, he was already getting up and dusting his clothes down. The moment was forgotten when I caught the sight of his legs and shorts that were wet because of the snow. Just as I was about to make a snarky comment, he glared at me before using his vision to dry himself.
Wisps of anemo came up from the ground and twirled around him, drying him off and in the process, his hat began to appear back on his head as if by magic. What was this? A fairy transformation?
Scaramouche motioned once with his head for me to follow and soon we were approaching the ominous house that seemed to suck the light out of the atmosphere as well as the life. No birds chirped, no squirrels skipped by. It might have been something to do with the fact that the day had passed over us as we navigated through the trees but even the flower beds in the front porch were drooping and malnourished. The patches of grass where snow had melted were brown and dead. How had Scaramouche even found this place?
One glance at the windows explained why the winds couldn't slither in. Planks of rotting wood were nailed to the windows and the door was a heavy, thick looking material. Moist wood and smoke permeated the air yet despite all the unappealing factors about the lodge, it radiated warmth as if it were opening its arms to visitors.
Scaramouche knocked.
I couldn't stop him in time and I realised I should have known better than to assume he would take any of my suggestions into consideration. I crossed my arms begrudgingly as we waited for any sign of life from the other side of the door. No footsteps or clattering could be heard. If it weren't for the smoke, the sign that a fire was burning in the hearth, one would think the place was a haunted cottage where an old lady died alone only for her many cats to eat away at her corpse.
Woops. My story telling habits are getting the better of me. What are the chances we find a skeleton and some cats in this place anyway? ... Right?
"What a shame! No one's home. Guess we'll just have to let ourselves in," I decided. "Give me just a moment to unlock the door."
Scaramouche sighed but didn't oppose as I stepped out from behind him and walked through the door. The feeling made me nauseous but I'd have to get used to it sooner or later.
Upon coming out on the other side, I paused to scan the area. I appeared to be standing in a corridor that branched off into other rooms. Even the inside of the lodge reflected the outside. The walls were a dark grey/black wood and every small movement was announced by the creaking of the floorboards that had definitely seen better days. Well, at least there's no dead lady. No cats either it seems. In fact, nobody here at all.
Before opening the door, I quickly released some winds from the tips of my fingers. They explored the house as I worked to fiddle with the lock and allow Scaramouche in. When I finally got it open, he had his sword in one hand and was staring at the surroundings. Nothing stirred in the trees so I wrote it off as him being paranoid.
"Welcome to my humble abode," I smiled.
He only rolled his eyes in response, a habit I noticed was something we both couldn't seem to rid ourselves of. I suppose it's down to the fact that we can't stop pissing each other off. Scaramouche hardly let out a thank you before he pushed past me and switched into invisible mode. Suddenly, his aura was entirely concealed as every step he took was muffled. The creaks and groans of the flooring seemed to quieten as if the mere presence of him in the house was scary. How come I didn't get this treatment?
I followed closely behind him, listening for any reports from the gales.
Life has ceased within this territory, whispered the winds.
"The place is empty, Scaramouche," I notified him as I allowed the anemo to return back to me.
He nodded once in acknowledgment but refrained from putting his sword away. It was definitely a magnificent looking thing. The blade was silver with jagged purple lines that seemed to replicate the look of lightning. In his hand, it looked mighty and overpowered. I cursed myself for not realising it to be a divine weapon earlier. Maybe I would have thought twice about provoking him.
We ventured slowly through the hallway until we came to the first door on the left side. What looked like a living room was on the other side and we identified the source of the smoke coming from the burning flame in the fireplace. Just as we chose to walk in, a gut feeling tugged on a chord to my brain.
My hand flew out across Scaramouche's chest as if it were natural instinct. "Wait just a second."
Running my gaze over the room, my eyes came to a stop at what was right in front of us. At our feet, something glimmered every time the light shifted from the fireplace. A string.
"A trap... Someone definitely lives here. And they don't like unwelcome visitors it seems. Do we really have to do everything you planned? I'm getting a bad feeling about this place," I admitted.
"It won't take long. We just need to grab what we need to survive for a journey and we'll be off. I'll postpone the message to the Archon for now," he decided in a whisper.
"Fine. Do what you need to do. I'll keep watch."
He glanced down at the arm I still had over his chest, protecting him from the trap. I dropped it immediately and looked away in a grimace. Scaramouche stepped over the string and started searching through the room.
It was awfully dim, reeked of smoke and was sparsely furnished. The wallpaper was peeling and cracked; the only place to sit was a single armchair opposite the hearth. The room appeared to be relatively empty. For that reason, we chose to move to the next room that was the second door on the right. The first was a kitchen that was barely holding itself together. Scaramouche grabbed whatever food was available (stale bread, an apple or two, and untouched chicken) and kept them in some sort of dimensional pocket that he used to carry things with him. That was where his hat had gone earlier when we needed to hide behind the tree.
A study was what we came upon after stepping over the tripwired trap. A single desk of old oak and a chair with shaky legs lay dormant in the small sized room. The air was musty and every surface was covered in dust. Keeping my eyes peeled for any sound or movement, I urged the winds to notify me of anyone in the area. They excitedly accepted and whizzed out of the house to keep watch. Always prepared to lend me a hand, those spirits. I could never repay them for all their assistance.
"Yes! This is perfect. I'm not sure why the inhabitant of this lodge owns one of these but it'll be more useful for us," commented Scaramouche.
I took my eyes off the front door for a moment to see him holding up a silver ring looking gadget. I'd seen the Fatui use them countless times to travel over far distances. They were newly developed teleporters created by one of the research teams. Definitely, useful for us but how on earth had the owner of this home managed to get their hands on it?
"Great. Pocket it and let's go. The sun is starting to set so we need to find somewhere safe to camp out for the night," I responded.
Scaramouche grabbed a handful of small, square shaped papers as well as a pen and allowed them to pop into his dimensional inventory. At that, we moved towards the door of the study when I heard something that had my hairs on end. A howling wind burst through the door, bouncing off the walls and hurtled towards us. Many more followed behind and I didn't even need to hear the warning to know what was going on.
"Shit, shit, shit. Someone is coming! What do we do?" I asked in a panic.
"Calm down. I'm a Harbinger for a reason. You think I can't take some banished freak that lives in a house like this in the middle of nowhere? Tch, your lack of faith appals me," he snarled.
"Please lay off getting pissed at me for stupid reasons and focus on dealing with this mess that is undoubtedly your fault. I will not be doing anything so better get to it," I retorted with a glare.
"Just get out the way."
I did as I was told and allowed him to make his way past me first. In the moment of being irritated at one another, we failed to keep in mind that every room was skilfully equipped with tripwires that set off traps. Scaramouche was the one to remind us both when he cleverly put a foot forward and set one off. A creaking noise sounded and something seemed to be whirring around in the walls of the house.
A curse left my lips as I grabbed his hand and lurched him back towards me. Simultaneously, multiple thick axes swung themselves down from the ceiling and were certainly set to behead whichever poor soul was unlucky enough to be standing below. By now, footsteps outside had echoed their way into my ears via the winds rushing in and out of the house. The axes that were still swinging dangerously had successfully broken through the surrounding walls, creating a flurry of smoke and dust around us. Debris from the ceiling began filtering through and our visions were slowly becoming clouded as well as our scratchy throats.
"You idiot, I knew this was a bad idea," I muttered through coughs.
He didn't respond and chose to pull me towards him until we were chest to chest. His arm slid around my shoulders and in one quick flash, we reappeared in the neighbouring room. The kitchen.
We were still coughing but with the view around us now clear, it was easier to gather our bearings and get out of here. One look at Scaramouche and I could tell immediately the delusion was zapping him of his energy. He was panting, his hands were trembling and all this was accompanied by a paler complexion. He had used the instrument to chase me down earlier and I had heard of the type of impacts delusions had on their users. I could no longer depend on him to protect us both.
No problem of course. This was my opportunity to show off, maybe even put him in his place. It was obvious the Balladeer severely underestimates me. Now would be the perfect time to show him what I'm made of. Quite literally.
"I've got you now ya little thief! This is for all the food you've robbed me of," yelled a voice coming from right around the corner of the door to the kitchen.
I clenched my teeth and ran through every possible plan that might get us out of here. I'm not worried about this boisterous man who seems to be hunting a thief of some sort, I'm only worried about being spotted. There were many Fatui squads lurking around amidst the trees that we needed to avoid. If any of them pick up on the commotion here, they're bound to get suspicious. Not to mention the fact that I'm already a wanted person; posters have likely been put up everywhere. I can't allow myself to be recognised by civilians.
The moment the first foot appeared in the doorway, I picked up on the thick axe in the hands of a big man with greasy curly hair and a thick snow coat. Without letting a second go to waste, I created a wind screen in the doorway, blocking us out of his view. Harsh, green winds weaved and curled over one another over the door until nothing but a swirling storm of anemo was visible. His yelling could still be heard through the thin walls.
"Are you ok to move? You look sort of dead," I said, clutching Scaramouche's shoulder and giving him a comforting squeeze.
"Your honesty is appreciated but I know that I never look dead. I'm fine, don't concern yourself over me. I thought you said weren't going to do anything?" questioned Scaramouche as he dusted off his clothes and stared at my hand on his shoulder in question.
"You think too highly of yourself. I'm only worried because if you die then they'll find a way to place the blame on me and I'll have even more crimes under my name. You know I've never been a wanted criminal before?" I rambled.
"Can we cut the chit chat and actually get out of here please?" he sighed with aggravation before turning his attention to the axe now pounding at the wind wall.
I took a step forward and made a motion of pushing the wall back with a huge force. The wind launched forward, sending the man flying backwards and right into the wall. The house seemed to shake at the impact and for a second the man was disoriented enough that Scaramouche and I could sprint past him and out the front door with everything we needed.
The obnoxious man was up in an instant, axe back in hand and voice loud enough that birds a kilometre away felt the need to escape the scene. "GET BACK HERE YOU BASTARDS."
"Ha! You wish!" I yelled back. "We are not the ones you're looking for. Keep your damn voice down!"
"You'd be wise to take your own advice, bard. The whole of Snezhnaya probably heard you," hissed Scaramouche as he took my hand and led me away from the lodge with a rough tug.
"It's his fault! You noticed too, right? The house was literally just a trap for intruders. He's trying to catch people in there as if they're mice. I wouldn't be surprised if he ate them afterwards. He reeked of blood!" I hissed back angrily.
The profanities the man was sending towards us had begun to die down and soon we found ourselves slowing down to a walk as we neared a part of the forest that was slowly dimming to pitch black. I was right, the sun had begun to set earlier and now we were stranded in a forest that was likely the size of three Inazuman Islands and completely snowed in. Splendid.
Panting to catch my breath, I squinted in an effort to identify my surroundings. "I can't see anything. Any chance you can illuminate the area with something in your weird and wonderful invisible backpack?"
Unknowingly, I'd spoken in a whisper. Somehow, I felt afraid to disturb the unsettling quiet. No winds travelled here, the leaves remained still and even the snow struggled to get past the thick canopy of the soaring trees. Strangely enough, it seemed to calm me down. The moment was tranquil and slowed the adrenaline that had surged through my veins.
Suddenly, I realised I'd received no response to my earlier question. "Hey, uh... Scaramouche, are you there?"
No response. Either he was playing a cruel game with me or we had gotten split up. Neither option was particularly pleasant but being stranded in the middle of this jungle of snow and trees where handfuls of enemies were searching for me really wasn't ideal. I turned slowly in my spot, trying to spot any movement or the slither of a sound.
Something warm rested on my shoulder to which I yelped out in surprise before spinning around and sending a punch out of instinct. My fist was caught almost immediately as I cracked my eyes open to meet with a pair of glowing indigo irises.
"I feel like I'm babysitting you. Why are you being so difficult to deal with?" he sighed.
"You were the one who walked off without me. Besides, it's not like I'm trying to be the source of your irritation... We just don't see eye to eye I guess," I shrugged, feeling a weird sense of guilt. "I'm sorry. It's been a long day. Let's just find somewhere to rest for now and we can discuss this prophecy, yeah?"
Scaramouche studied me intently. I couldn't read his thoughts too well in the dark but he seemed to be weighing out his options. His hand was latched onto my wrist and the warmth of it against my skin made me tingle all over. For some reason, every time he touched me, I wanted him to never let go. Sure, he was unbearable but it didn't stop me from wanting to curl up in his arms and be selfish. It didn't matter who it was really. I just wanted to feel.
"I... will try and be more reasonable, I suppose. You're right, we don't see eye to eye. But if we want to get shit done then we need to attempt to," he said quietly. "In short: stop picking fights and start being mature."
My hopes and dreams came crashing down within a matter of seconds. "It was going so well. The first half? Perfection. Saw some real character development there. Second half? Completely messed it up. Let go of my hand Scaramouche."
I felt his hand tighten once before he let go and muttered something under his breath. We continued to walk side by side in silence. I chose to study our surroundings and found myself in awe at the way the moonlight filtered in through the smallest breaks in the leafy canopy. Flecks of white light littered the floor like stars in the dark. It certainly improved my mood.
After another few arguments about where we should camp out for the night, we settled on a small patch of fresh grass that lay beneath an opening in the trees. The view from above was a crystal clear night freckled with winking stars and a big bright moon that watched the lands with a keen gaze. We each took a seat against the trees that were opposite one another. Then, only silence followed.
"Lovely night, don't you think?" I asked, hoping to break the ice.
"I am not going to discuss the weather with you, bard," stated Scaramouche bluntly. "Tell me about the prophecy."
I sighed and fiddled with the blades of grass below me as I recited the prophecy that rang in my head like a mantra. "'Tis he who will charge the clouds with their thunder. 'Tis he who will capture the bolts like ropes in his hand. Those are the lines of the prophecy that would sound every time I walked past your room. After a long night of fiddling with what little information I had on you, I came to the conclusion that you are trying to get the gnosis that would give yourself the ability to do the things stated in those riddle like words."
He didn't say anything and suddenly his strange silence was unnerving. He always had something snarky to say. Glancing up, I picked up on the way his eyes were wide with hope. The exhaustion that ghosted his features was lifted and that ethereal beauty was back in place, making something flutter in my stomach. After another beat, he spoke once more.
"I am... fated to succeed. Do you know what this means? It's going to work. My plan will work and I really will gain this power! The shogun will regret ever discarding me. She will realise that I was everything she needed and more, she will be burning with regret," he said more to himself than me.
I think he realised he had over spoken because Scaramouche glanced up at me quickly before grimacing and looking away.
"Are you going to tell me the whole truth now or do I have to force it out of you? If we want this partnership to work, you owe me an explanation. I've already told you too much about myself. Please tell me your connections with the Shogun and the reasoning behind your objectives."
Scaramouche exhaled shakily before lacing his fingers together and leaning back against the tree to meet my gaze. I felt a jolt in my heart at the way the light enhanced his good looks. Curse him and those perfect features.
"The Shogun is... my mother," he started. He waited for some reaction from me but I only motioned for him to continue. "The only reason she created me was for the sole purpose of housing the gnosis and keeping her own consciousness within a plane in my head. She intended to rule as the Archon only through an artificially created being for the sake of maximising power and minimising weaknesses. Unfortunately, when she attempted to do this on me, I failed her expectations. I was only a prototype anyway. She disposed of me and that's when... Well, I suppose I just began the journey of my life."
I was silent for a moment, absorbing all the information. "Wow, that was... Tragic."
"Could you just be serious for once in your life?" he hissed.
"Sorry, sorry. I just... I don't know how to go about conversing with someone like you."
"Someone like me?"
"Yeah! You know... You're just perfect. I feel like nothing I say could ever be enough to please you. I think that might be why we argue so much. We are almost opposites in everything. You do everything so gracefully whereas I'm sort of clumsy and messy. You speak and carry yourself with dignity but I don't particularly care for my image because I know everyone will forget me and die before I do," I explained.
His scowling expression slowly slipped away and in its place was an unguarded expression of surprise. "Is that actually how you see me?"
"Well, yes. Don't let it get to your head though. I was only being honest because you decided to share something you obviously weren't prepared to tell me," I responded, averting my gaze.
Hearing the sound of shifting fabric, I watched as Scaramouche lay down on the grass in the moonlight and tipped his hat down to cover his face. Hesitantly, I moved from my own position and relaxed onto my back as I watched the night overwhelm the sky. It wasn't often that I could just allow myself to unravel and exhale with fatigue. This scenery was mesmerising.
"Ask."
I turned to look at Scaramouche. "Huh?"
"You have three questions left to ask. Go ahead."
I didn't need to think about this one. "Why do you hate me so much?"
The way his body seemed to tense just the slightest didn't go unnoticed. For a while, I thought he wouldn't answer again but he huffed out a sigh and spoke reluctantly.
"Just as you view me as perfect, I saw you as imperfect. Despite the fact that you often trip over your own feet, you can't hold a conversation because your blatant honesty and bluntness steers people away from you and your fingers are shaky and prone to making mistakes in the morning hours, people still praised you and regarded you highly for your talents," he paused for a beat. "I thought to myself: 'Why couldn't my own mother embrace my imperfections the way they did yours?' Was I really that disposable and useless? She didn't even try to keep me by her side. Did the mere sight of me remind her of all the things that went wrong? So... I became bitter. It irked me that you got that treatment when I was thrown away like a rag doll."
My eyes widened. I fought the urge to reach out and pull him into a hug. Scaramouche was clearly showing a vulnerable and private part of himself. It was a natural instinct for me even though I can't touch anyone. Oftentimes, I comfort people with poetic and meaningful words but in his case, I am capable of sharing some physical comfort. I knew he would hate that so I remained silent and watched a cloud sail by.
"Play something bard," he said, breaking the silence and changing the subject effectively.
"As you wish."
With the lyre in hand, I strummed some notes half heartedly. The fatigue running through my body paired with the serenity of the scene in the sky was only adding onto my sleepiness.
"You've played that one before," commented Scaramouche quietly.
My head whipped in his direction with surprise. I was only met with a face concealed by the shadow of his large hat. "You're right... I have played that one before. But how would you know that?"
He turned over onto his side, leaving his back facing me. The hat disappeared in an instant and made him look exposed and alone for some strange reason.
"Because I pay attention," he stated.
I hesitated before speaking. "To me?"
Waiting for a response was futile. He didn't stir or insult. Only Scaramouche's shoulders fell and rose at a slow pace, suggesting he was sleeping. I doubted his ability to fall asleep that fast however I hardly needed an answer. It's clear from what I've heard so far that he's thought about me a whole lot. Sure it wasn't necessarily anything good but he knows things about me that no one else could list. I thought no one had picked up on my shaky hands in the morning...
~~~
Night turned to day almost too quickly. My body hardly felt rejuvenated and sleep didn't often do much for wind spirits. We choose to meditate where the winds blow over vast lands like on the edge of a cliff over the seas for example. Nevertheless, I woke to blaring sunlight over our patch of grass. It would have been a perfect way to wake up if I wasn't staring right at a sleeping Harbinger's face.
I would love to tell you that I wanted nothing more than to spit at him or claw at his skin but I'd be lying. Why? Because he looked like an angel in his sleep. It was wrong to stare, I know that. How could I not when his face was so relaxed and peaceful? His head was resting on his arm lightly and even in slumber he looked perfect. This should've been a painting rather than a live moment.
I tried to look away. The only thing stopping me was how close we now lay beside each other and the way his hair was slightly messed. It still looked soft and shiny which only increased my urges to touch it. My hand reached out slowly and completely subconsciously. Unfortunately, the second it was centimetres from his locks, it was stopped.
"Look, don't touch," said Scaramouche, whose eyes were still closed.
In my pitiful attempt to stroke his hair, he had stopped my hand with his own. Scaramouche opened his eyes and stared into mine with a deep, penetrating gaze. He held my hand up in the air and seemed to be trying to understand something about me.
"Why do you want to touch my hair so bad?" he asked with strange curiosity.
It didn't sound malicious or mocking. I believe he genuinely wanted to know but I was slightly embarrassed to admit why. How could he possibly understand that I am just curious to know what different things feel like? His hair looks so soft and inviting, my hair was often unruly and never looked right. Not to mention I didn't even know what it was like to the touch. To see and be around someone so beautiful had only peaked my interest. And that thought alone had me feeling even more sheepish.
"Don't laugh, ok? I just want to know what it feels like. You're the only person within arms reach who won't go through me like a ghost. I guess I was just nosy. I want to know what real humans feel everyday when they run their hands through their hair or when they hug themselves to keep warm. I wonder what it would be like to feel soft skin or water in a bath," I admitted, breaking away from his stare.
"... You actually can't feel that stuff?" asked Scaramouche in a somewhat gentle tone.
I only nodded with a disappointed smile and pulled my hand out of his. Scaramouche did something unexpected to my surprise. He grabbed my hand just before it fell out of his grasp and with a little reluctance he let out a breathy laugh.
"I can't believe I'm allowing this," he said under his breath. "I'll let you touch my hair, so make it quick."
I couldn't keep the little excited giggle from leaving my lips and Scaramouche rolled his eyes but I could see the underlying hint of amusement. He placed my hand over his purple hair and a glowing smile tainted my features. I bit my lip to hide my happiness because I knew how silly and stupid something like this was. But somehow he was letting it happen.
My eyes softened as I let my fingers run through his locks till they were tangled in the longer strands at his nape. It was just as soft and smooth as I expected, so well cared for. When the wind blew, I could smell the scent of spice and citrus coming from him. My gaze flitted to Scaramouche who was watching me with an unguarded expression. Something like a doting gaze was set on me. His features were relaxed with a hint of gentleness and suddenly, I felt like I was staring at a different person.
I felt my cheeks burn at his unexpected expression towards me. My hand was still in his hair in what I now realised was similar to quite an intimate gesture. Quickly, I retracted my hand and pulled it into my chest nervously.
A smirk ghosted Scaramouche's features, making the corners of his eyes crinkle a little. It only made the flush on my neck creep higher until I found the courage to say something.
"Stop looking at me like that. What's wrong with you?" I said too quickly.
"Nothing. I only find it quite interesting how you seem to be compelled to touch me despite how much you claim to dislike me," he retorted.
He sat up and brushed off his clothes, allowing some anemo to freshen up his body. And just like before, the hat appeared right back on his head, the veil billowing behind him like a cape. He stared down at me with a smug and superior look. I resisted the urge to throw the nearest rock at him.
"Tch, don't mistake it for anything other than curiosity. I would have been the same with anyone else so don't give yourself too much credit. How about we leave the arguing for later and get moving? I'd like to get out of Snezhnaya as soon as possible," I commented, standing up to challenge his gaze.
He studied me for a second before losing interest as usual. "We can't use the portal ring until we are out of this nation. There are barriers that detect the usage of them within the perimeter of Snezhnaya to monitor the squads that leave. Outside of this land, they are deactivated but I know how to get them to work with my electro delusion. Once we are past the border successfully, we can use it to teleport to Sumeru."
I sighed with annoyance before throwing my hands up in defeat. Scaramouche took this as a sign to start moving and soon we were off to the border. How far was it from our current location? Who knows. I only remember the squabbles and mocking jokes we aimed at one another to pass the time as we walked. It was surprisingly pleasant. Minus all of the colourful language and exotic insults. I certainly gained a few new ones to add to the long list.
A/N
Next chapter will contain one of the first scenes I planned for this book. I'm really excited to publish it but it needs a bit of polishing. Unfortunately, I start proper school this week so updates will be slow. I hope this chapter was alright! I want this one to be a slow burn but I also don't want it to be too long. I'm aiming for the same length and pace as my Dottore ff if you've read that one. Thank you for 100 reads already! <3