Scaramouche's POV:
He knew something would go wrong tonight, that’s just the curse he was born to suffer with. Whilst some may think the Harbinger was exaggerating, no situation has ever really proved him wrong and dispelled this curse. Because every time someone has gained some value in his life, they are ripped away from him. Sometimes of their own free will and other times because fate demanded it.
Scaramouche knew this and expected this. Yet… he couldn't seem to shake Y/N off. The Balladeer couldn't seem to sever the thoughts of her from his mind, He couldn't seem to let go of the words she throws around as if they were meaningless when in reality they scared him and possessed him in a way words shouldn’t.
She was drunk out of her mind and obviously rambling nonsense but it didn’t stop him from foolishly believing the things she said. Because every word she spoke was like the singing of an angel and the way her lips pressed against his neck before she lost consciousness felt as if it were a stamp, signing off her rambling as the truth.
Scaramouche knew he should have scolded her, yelled at her to ensure she stayed at least 10 feet away from him for the sake of her life. Possibly for the sake of his sanity too. Y/N was distracting and reckless, which should have been enough to make her insufferable but he struggled to even dislike her.
To conclude, he was having a major personal crisis because he couldn’t understand his thoughts for the life of me. Just how Y/N had described it earlier, up in the tree. For some reason, the Harbinger was finding it hard to understand himself.
For the longest time, he'd only ever chased after the ending where be would become the god he was destined to be. He strived to eliminate any wretched human emotions that continued to linger within him. However, every time Scaramouche found myself in Y/N’s presence, that objective seemed to be forgotten and all the highs and lows of feeling were welcomed. He found myself enjoying the different things she put him through and made him feel. Even if they mainly involved squabbling and bickering. he could never tell her it was the highlight of his day.
And all of a sudden, he questioned himself. Yes. Actually questioned himself. He wondered if what hr truly wanted was to draw a line between himself and humans. Scaramouche knew this train of thought came from the naive side of him that believed there was a chance. A chance that the past three betrayals were merely flukes and that this time would be the one.
He shook his head clear of ridiculous thoughts and decided that the distance he'd walked with Y/N on his back was far enough. By now, they were well away from the port with no one hot on their heels. At least that part had succeeded. Despite the mess she had made of her side of the plan, Y/N hadn’t exposed her identity or his. They were in the clear momentarily.
That notion alone is all that had him reluctantly choosing this particular spot to take a rest. Y/N was fast asleep on Scaramouche's back, arms curled tightly around his neck. She didn’t seem content to let go any time soon. He found myself smiling in the dark at the idea that she felt so comfortable near him, so trusting. He knew it was partly because she practically had no one else who could carry her this way but he chose to dispel that thought and focus on setting her down gently. With her back against the tree in a position that wouldn’t have her slumping sideways, he took a seat on the greenery beside her.
She slept soundly, almost too deeply. Her chest remained still, unmoving in a way it shouldn’t. Something Scaramouche had noticed during their little situation in the alleyway was that she had no heartbeat. It made sense seeing as she was not entirely human but it still made him question things. Y/N was allegedly a very old spirit which meant that she’d seen things and experienced things people couldn’t even begin to dream of. But it also meant that she must have suffered through many hardships and questioned herself a lot.
As he smoothed the messed hair away from her face, he tried to find any signs of unhappiness, perhaps simple discontent. It was strange really. She was a complicated person who must have been conflicted about many things once upon a time yet her face showed no strain, her limbs showed no tension. He was half convinced not even the starting of a war could wake her. Either she was having a particularly pleasant dream or she felt no worry. She did tell him that she didn’t care for her life. Whilst it should have concerned him, it also made perfect sense. Y/N was a wind spirit from the land of freedom. It should have been obvious that her nature was easy going and carefree.
The Harbinger leaned his head back against the trunk of the tree to stare up at the sky through the small clearing in the leaves. Y/N probably would have gushed at the beauty of it. The stars were out and winking at their gazers as the eye ran over the expanse of the sky. Moonlight poured in, glazing over them and illuminating the darkness that encased the jungle. It was eerily silent, making Scaramouche feel a little unnerved.
He shuffled closer to Y/N till their shoulders were touching and she was close enough that he wouldn’t have to worry about her disappearing if his eyes were to fall shut. The day had been exhausting but he was sure the memory of their conversation in the tree would remain with him for a long time. It didn’t matter that the feelings it induced were ones he was supposed to hate. For now, he would settle with enjoying what little time he had left with the slumbering wind spirit at his side.
She shifted in her sleep, almost as if she’d sensed Scaramouche's thoughts had strayed to her. As he glanced down at her, Y/N’s head slipped to the side till it was resting on his shoulder. He felt a jolt in his veins at the action. His hands itched to reach out wrap around her, to hold her and know she wouldn’t disappear just like everyone else did. Despite this, he held back. It was likely that upon waking up they would find ourselves in an awkward situation and hedt rather not add to that by finding her in his embrace.
The past few days had been a cycle of questioning himself over and over again. It was exhausting and draining and no matter how hard he tried to stay awake for the sake of protecting them, his mind wasn’t complying. It wasn’t long till Scaramouche found himself slipping away to the comfort of the night.
…
Scaramouche wished he had a worthy reason that would explain why Y/N's head was comfortably resting in his lap as she dozed through the following morning.
Upon startling awake at the realisation that he had fallen asleep, he was more than confused as to why they were now in such a compromising position. Sometime during the night, the obnoxiously attractive wind spirit had taken the liberty of using his lap as a cushion. Not to mention the fact that her hand was entwined with his, comfortably held tight as if it were a lifeline. The mere sight of it did something strange to his insides. The Balladeer felt it square in his chest, that irritatingly familiar emotion that he could not name.
She was gorgeous. He found himself struggling to move for fear he might create a disruption in the moment and ruin everything.
The light breeze that skipped by ruffled in her hair and the golden light that made the jungle around them glow green, created freckles and patterns over her slumbering form. His chest ached. The scene was picture perfect.
He tried and tried to slow his thoughts and think rationally. What he really needed to do was shake her awake and start an argument about why she was the least trustworthy person in Teyvat and that he had given her the most simple job yet she still managed to mess it up. That's what he should have done. The reminder of it all should have irritated him, it just had to.
But it didn't. Because suddenly he felt laughter bubble up in his throat at the hilarious outcome of the plan. With anyone else, he would've unleashed his wrath upon them but for her? Scaramouche found it simply hilarious that she had gone out of her way to reassure him of her diligence only to find herself drunk out of her mind, being carried away from the scene like a sack of potatoes.
His hand moved on its own, tracing a line down the side of her face and brushing his knuckles over her cheek. A miniature smile tugged on the corners of her lips; Scaramouche adored it. He wanted nothing more than to build a house around her and make her smile every second of the day.
The moment that thought had passed by, his hand stilled. His expression faltered and an ugly, gnawing feeling soured his mood entirely.
Because for a second… He was lost. Scaramouche's mind had wandered off and all of his plans were about her. The little spirit that threw her life around, walked into ridiculous situations and was reckless enough to cross an archon. This was exactly what wasn't supposed to happen. When he had agreed for her to accompany him, they were supposed to keep a solid boundary between them. The Balladeer was supposed to make sure that nothing could ever blossom from this partnership.
But he'd done the exact opposite subconsciously. Because since they'd began their journey together they had kissed and admitted truths and talked and protected one another. All of it was intimate and personal. And it was all the Harbinger's fault.
Whilst he should have felt unhappy about it all for getting in the way of his motives, he couldn't even begin to hate the moments where they looked each other in the eye and talked as if he wasn't already absolutely infatuated with her and they way she talked and thought and smiled and glared. Scaramouche would unknowingly cling on to every little shift in her expression, note it down in a safe in his mind and anticipate the next time he would witness her face betray her thoughts before she could speak.
Why? Why did it have to be her of all people? What was it about Y/N that had peaked Scaramouche's interest all those years ago? At first it was just the majestic songs she made; it was pure admiration. But then it hit him. Somewhere along the way, it had become an obsession…
The Harbinger had become obsessed with her. She was his opposite in every sense and he found himself magnetised to her way of doing things. It started with keeping an eye out for her at celebrations, then it became peeking at her out of the corner of his eye in the throne room. The piece that had finally set his emotions into place was the nights she played in the gardens, displaying all her thoughts and dreams in the tunes that left her lyre. Sometimes her lips too.
It was truly cruel. That Fate had paved the path that would lead him to forming such a strong bond to a person, knowing that his curse meant that she would be wrenched out of his grip at any given moment. The thought saddened him. With no one around, he let his indifferent demeanor fall. The exhaustion set into his features as he sighed and rubbed his eyes that ached with a hollow discomfort.
"How come you get to sleep like a log as if we haven't endured the most chaotic week of our lives? Well. Mine anyway," grumbled Scaramouche to the sleeping figure that was Y/N. She had yet to stir in her sleep.
Scaramouche longed to feel the peacefulness that was etched into Y/N's face. If he didn't know any better, he would think she had died in her sleep. Nothing seemed to be waking her up.
Nothing… Y/N wasn't… Waking up.
Huh?
Suddenly, goosebumps rose on Scaramouche's flesh. He knew it was just a silly intrusive thought but it made him extremely unsettled nonetheless. For a second, he searched her face whilst simultaneously holding his breath. It wasn't as if he could discern whether or not she was alive; she didn't have a pulse. He would merely have to make an educated guess. And right now, his gut was telling him that something was wrong.
He shook her shoulders gently at first. "Y/N? You've been sleeping for far too long now. It's already noon, come on now."
He shook her once more, a little firmer. He called her name and checked for the sound of her breathing even if it was utterly useless.
Scaramouche couldn't conceal the edge of desperation that shadowed his actions. He was sure he was being paranoid and that she would smile in that earth shattering way before opening one eye and laughing at his stupid worries. So he waited. He held his breath and clutched her hand tighter, practically willing that strangely empty expression of hers to slide away.
The Balladeer knew there was no reason she could die overnight. It was just alcohol, she had obviously had it before. But… What if it was poisoned? Or what if her lifespan had expired or something? What if… it was his fault? Again.
He squeezed his eyes shut and wracked his brain in attempts to empty it. For a second he needed silence.
Unfortunately, it was rare that he ever got what he wanted.
"Hm. Still not awake, is she?"
Scaramouche visibly jumped before whipping his head up in the direction of the new voice. His senses were immediately heightened and he was shocked into a sense of alertness as he pulled Y/N closer into his arms in hopes he could partially shield her.
As he looked up, he set his sights on the figure that had just spoken. Scaramouche was all too confused and alarmed to do anything but frown at the beaming boy in front of him.
"Don't look so suspicious!" said the boy with a hearty laugh. "I'm a friend of Y/N's. And you are…"
The boy who was decked out in a green and white outfit resembling that of a bard's was watching Scaramouche with a curiously amused expression. His gaze ran up and down the length of him before stopping at the point where Scaramouche's arm had wrapped around Y/N's shoulders protectively.
"Ah. You must be the one they told my about," spoke the boy slyly. He smirked with the promise of mischief.
"Who the hell are you? How do you know me or Y/N?" spat Scaramouche.
"Oh! No need to be alarmed, my friend. I am Venti the bard. Delighted to meet your acquaintance good sir," he replied with a lavish bow. "Has Y/N really never mentioned me before? We've known each other for quite some time."
If he wasn't so suspicious, Scaramouche would have questioned that strange stab of jealousy. Unfortunately, he was more than occupied with trying to unpick whatever was going on with this boy. Venti… That name seemed awfully familiar. In fact, looking into the eyes of the boy sent a shiver down the Balladeer's spine. In that moment, he felt it all click into place. Someone who knew Y/N well and could appear out of thin air in a place that no one could find them? There was only one answer.
"You're the Anemo Archon," stated Scaramouche warily.
Venti hardly seemed surprised. "That I am. But I would prefer you keep that to yourself, ehe… Anyways! You clearly know enough and I've been so unfortunately busy dealing with dragons and hurricanes that I haven't had any time to come by and check up on my little soldier. From what the winds have told me, she seemed to be having a whale of a time with her new travel partner so I decided to postpone my visit until it was necessary."
"So I'm right in assuming her state right now isn't normal?" asked Scaramouche. He tried to keep the anxiety from causing a quiver in his voice.
The Archon before him took in the state of both the spirit and the puppet. They had obviously been travelling throughout the forests a lot recently, evident in their scuffed shoes and wrinkled clothes. Well. The wrinkled clothes might have been for other reasons but Venti knew suggesting something like that to the Harbinger would likely end violently.
"That is correct. Although you don't really have anything to worry about. Her condition isn't critical or unusual. I'm surprised she didn't think to warn you about it in advance. Perhaps she forgot herself in your company…" Venti thought out loud. Then, he was right back on track. "Y/N is currently in a coma of sorts. As a wind spirit, it is not necessary for her to eat or drink or even sleep. The one thing she needs is ventilation of some sort. It's a cleansing process that breathes fresh anemo essence into her body and keeps her going strong."
Scaramouche nodded along, taking in the new information with many questions on the tip of his tongue. He slowly relinquished his protective stance over her and upon looking closer, he did in fact notice dimly glowing veins in her arms. They weren't their usual saturated green, instead they were the colour of dying grass and some even tainted black like tar running through her bloodstream. The sight of it only increased his worries.
"Well, how do I help her? If this isn't uncommon then how come she hasn't fixed it herself?" asked Scaramouche.
"That would be because she usually rejuvenates her anemo essence in advance. An early preparation of sorts that helps her avoid the coma state. It seems that with the panic and rush of leaving her position and Snezhnaya and travelling with you, she had completely forgotten to do so," Venti explained. Then with a wistful expression, he added, "I haven't seen her so involved and excited about something since she danced at the first Windblume festival with her friends…"
Scaramouche could almost see it before his eyes. She would be holding hands with her companions as they spun round and round in circles. Her laughter would light up the town square and the songs she would sing as the festival was underway would enrapture the heart of anyone who walked by. For a second, he was tempted to smile and run a hand over her hair fondly. Yet, the mere reminder that she was probably suffering in some way due to this coma was enough to snap him out of it.
"You seem to be forgetting the part where you tell me how I'm supposed to fix this and get her out of this state?" growled Scaramouche impatiently.
"Oh my. I had no idea my little wind spirit had you wrapped around her little finger," snickered Venti.
"Don't be ridiculous. I need her for information, that is all. We have a deal and she has yet to fulfill the promise she has made me. Once we are done, this bard could sleep for an eternity for all I care. As of right now, she is still of use to me," he stated, his anger suddenly bubbling up.
It was already hard enough to accept it himself. Scaramouche was already struggling with his internal conflicts and the accepting of his feelings. He didn't need another Archon to tell him he was just as useless as the day he was born. His own mother had made that point clear enough.
"Mmmmm… Sounds like I struck a nerve. Woops! I'm sure you'll come to terms with yourself one day, lost wanderer," said Venti reassuringly. It did little to reassure however. "If you must know, the trick to pulling Y/N out of this state is to take her where new born winds play and where the oldest gales billow away. Take her where the air is pure and the-"
"You bards and your ridiculous riddles," muttered Scaramouche. "Look, that really is poetic and all but I. Am. In. A. Hurry. So if you could be a good… friend, as you claim you are, then point me in the direction of this location you speak of. If you haven't already been informed, Y/N is a wanted criminal and I'm soon to join her if I don't hurry my mission along."
Venti crossed his arms, looking more than a little disappointed. "And this was supposed to be your first test too. I suppose I'll have to leave it be for now."
"Test? For what reason are you testing me?"
"To see if you're worthy of course! I can't just let strangers - particularly ones like you - be left with the responsibility of one of my spirits. She's free but her safety is of my greatest concern. And I certainly haven't gotten the greatest impression from you," admitted the Anemo archon.
Scaramouche scowled. "The location. Now."
"Since when did I have put up with this behaviour as an Archon?" sighed Venti to himself. He spun around in his spot, taking in his surroundings before seemingly deciding on a location. "We are near Port Ormos, correct? If that is the case then you've truly gotten lucky Harbinger. If I'm not mistaken, there should be mountain nearby. A hefty climb but at the top of most high places, you will find the perfect balance of winds that would work splendidly to cure Y/N's predicament. Although… Liyue does have some better spots. Particularly in the Minlin area. You could touch the clouds up there, definitely an ideal location. Then again…"
He was rambling. Scaramouche hated how much it reminded him of Y/N. She was often trying to fill the empty silence between them in their treks. The girl talked a whole lot yet the sound of her blabbering was an odd comfort.
"If that is all, you're welcome to leave. If I'm honest, I can't stand the sound of your voice," admitted Scaramouche as he gently shifted Y/N's body till she was sat upright against the tree once more…
"Hm. You ought to respect your elders, boy! Don't you know who you are talking to?" asked Venti, attempting to finally take up his position as a God. It was laughable really, his boyish appearance hardly worked in his favour.
"Now you're just embarrassing yourself."
"Hey! I'm trying my best, ok? I haven't had to play the role of a God for a long time. Bear with me here," said Venti.
"Right, right. How about you play the role of a mime-"
Venti stiffened. His eyes widened before he instantly flickered away and appeared directly in front of Scaramouche. Immediately, the Harbinger's senses were alert once more.
"Fatui. They're coming through the trees right now. Some merchant tipped them off, your location has been revealed. Listen Kunikizushi, I am entrusting my dear spirit to you. Take care of her, treasure her. Make the right decision and you won't regret it. That's a promise. Farewell," finished Venti in a haste.
Within seconds, he was gone. Just another zephyr in the wind. As expected of the God of Anemo. Unfortunately, it hardly did anything to settle the annoyance within Scaramouche because if Venti was telling the truth, then the Harbinger had to get up a mountain carrying an unconscious person whilst simultaneously escaping the clutches of Fatui Agents who were technically supposed to be working for him. How had he even gotten himself into this mess?
He didn't waste a second nonetheless. Gathering Y/N up into his arms, he scanned his surroundings in an attempt to locate their perpetrators as well as this ridiculous mountain. The crunching of leaves beneath boots sounded from an anxiety-inducing close distance. Scaramouche cursed under his breath before swiftly departing the rest spot and heading for the nearest exit of the forest.
"Hey! You, stop right this instant!"
Scaramouche clenched his teeth as he whipped his around and met eyes with what appeared to be an Eremite mercenary alongside a Fatui Pyroslinger. So they were working together? Splendid. This day simply could not get any worse.
In the process of turning back forward and escaping the scene, his eyes snagged onto the figures of dozens of other Eremites and Agents between the trees. How many of them were here? Whilst he could certainly take them on with ease, it would be a struggle to keep Y/N safe at the same time as fighting them off.
With another string of curses spoken, Scaramouche used his electro delusion to efficiently and quickly leave their direct line of sight. He was aware it wouldn't do much, especially as the earlier shouts had likely alerted the surrounding squads. It didn't help that there were also many camps in the area that housed even more Eremites. The place would be crawling with mercenaries soon.
As Scaramouche jumped from position to position with the use of Electro teleportation, it wasn't long before he found himself on the outskirts of that infernal maze of a jungle. He was beyond relieved to find himself staring up at a soaring mountain. That relief was short lived and soon replaced with vexation. Glancing down at the sleeping figure of the bard in his arms, he was instantly reminded of who he was doing this for. The light frown that had creased her brows made the scowl on Scaramouche's face soften. He placed a feathery light kiss on her forehead and held her closer to him.
With a quick scan of his surroundings, he clenched his teeth at the nearing sound of marching steps through the trees. They were advancing quickly and in large numbers. If he expended the rest of his energy to use the delusion and get them to the top of the mountain, then Y/N could be cleansed and he could depend on her to defend them as he worked to get them out of here. There was still one more teleportation ring he could use to get them to Liyue and hopefully on to the next available ship he could arrange to Inazuma.
With this plan finally set in motion, he began his ascent up the mountain. With each blip of the delusion taking him higher and higher, he could feel his limbs begin to ache and his vision begin to blur. The delusion was usually only used to swirl with his Anemo or get from place to place quickly but only occasionally. He'd never used it to this extent and with every surge of electricity in his veins, he felt as if he was exchanging gallons of blood, sweat and tears to teleport.
By the time the Balladeer and the bard were three quarters of the way up and taking a short rest, a single arrow whizzed through the air. It had missed the Harbinger's ear by mere centimetres. Glancing down quickly, he bit back a string of curses to yell at the group of crossbow armed mercenaries below. He was only thankful that no pyro gunslingers were present otherwise he'd really be in trouble.
With a painful inhale of air, Scaramouche forced one more jump and soon he found himself standing at the edge of the mountain where a hawk circled above him and thick forests of green were visible as far as the eye could see. Sumeru city was visible, the sea past Port Ormos glittered in the sun and the desert sweltered in heat on the other side. Had he not been so set on completing his mission, he might have liked to explore the region with Y/N.
Suddenly, remembering the musician in his arms, he laid her down on her back carefully. Scaramouche had only just realised that he'd completely forgotten to ask what was supposed to happen after they'd gotten to this point. He slapped himself internally and decided to shuffle closer to the girl still sleeping the chaos away.
Gripping her hand in his, he turned it over and checked the veins that had appeared in dire need of replenishing. Was it possible that Anemo essence was her version of blood? If that was so, then could it suggest that she was experiencing pain during the journey? The thought of it made him feel nauseous. She hadn't shown any signs of discomfort but it was also true that she had countless secrets.
Instead of worrying about things he didn't know of, he continued to keep an eye on her condition as he kept his eyes peeled for any incoming enemies. On more than one occasion did he hear their yells and stomping feet coming nearer. He was becoming more impatient by the second.
Glancing over at Y/N, Scaramouche noticed the almost transparent trail of mist leaving her fingertips. Some of it trailed out of her mouth and from the tips of her hair. He felt a sudden spark of hope. Being up here was certainly doing something but whether or not it was good was another question. He only needed her to wake up and know that she was ok, then they would be out of here.
That's what was supposed to happen. But of course, the world was eternally against Scaramouche. If not the world, then Fate. Because as everything was going relatively smoothly, the first handful of Eremites and Fatui began appearing on the sloping hill that would lead them right to the Harbinger's current location.
"Very funny. You're a cruel bitch, Fate. I'll have your head on a platter one day," he promised Her. Fate merely laughed at him, the scratchy noise of it sounding in the form of yelling from the enemies fast approaching.
Muttering a few more exotic curses under his breath, Scaramouche turned to stand up and take an offensive stance. His body had other ideas. The delusion had completely used up his energy and he found his knees buckling before him. With one hand on the floor steadying him, he panted as he tried to conjure any attack that could slow them down. They were close, too close for comfort. And yet, Scaramouche couldn't gather the strength to stand.
Would they be taken in? Would Y/N be tried and executed by the Tsaritsa for treason? All of his plans, his aspirations would be out the window. He could just abandon the bard. He could also accept his destiny and allow himself to be detained. The Harbinger would probably be deemed a traitor and would follow in Y/N's footsteps. Would that be so bad? This journey was proving awfully exhausting and he was feeling more than a little sleep deprived.
Looking up one more time, Scaramouche grimaced at the sight of the enemies charging towards them, weapons raised. He squeezed his eyes shut and huffed out a tired breath. They were trapped.
The feeling of Y/N's hand in his twitching to life was unexpected. Scaramouche had no way of knowing how long it would take for the cleansing process to be complete. Upon opening his eyes quickly, he could only feel a wild billow of winds around him before he managed to set his gaze on the wind spirit.
She glowed. Metaphorically and literally. Her eyes were sparkling and streaming a trickle of Anemo mist. Scaramouche had never seen her look so powerful and bewitching. So this was the warrior that had fought in the Archon War. The Balladeer found himself mesmerised by the sight of her. All the beauty described in poems and stories couldn't properly depict what he was seeing.
With a fleeting glance in his direction, their gazes collided and he felt as if he had been given a second pair of lungs. Y/N was doing something to him because that single glance practically added another 500 years onto his life.
The musician smiled. The smile reached her eyes and a gentle fondness settled in that gaze when she looked at him. She squeezed his hand once before reaching up to cup one side of his face and press a kiss to his cheek.
Scaramouche, who had entirely forgotten about the fleet of charging enemies, could only let out a shaky breath and stare at her wide eyed. Y/N was not joking when she had told him all about her strength and endeavours.
Breaking the electrified eye contact between them, she stood up and glared with murderous intent at the Eremites and co. With one swift motion of the hand, they were launched back by a wall of surging Anemo energy.
"I'm not energized enough to do anymore than that. There's only one thing left for it," said Y/N grimly.
Scaramouche glanced up with a frown, a question obvious in his eyes.
"What are you planning?"
She sighed once before looking down at him with a look of mischief that made him anxious. In a swift motion, she grabbed his hand once more and helped him up to the best of her ability.
With one arm of the Harbinger's slung over Y/N's shoulder, she looked at him with resolve in her eyes.
"I don't like that look, bard," warned Scaramouche.
She smiled at him apologetically and he immediately knew he wasn't going to like what she intended to do. Quickly, she glanced over her shoulder and grimaced at the Eremites now gathering themselves up off the ground and setting their sights back on the criminal pair.
Y/N turned her attention to the view in front of them where a deep drop that led to a new forest and a river they had yet to come across was visible. Suddenly, Scaramouche knew what she intended to do. And whilst he absolutely despised the idea for all the ways it could go wrong, they had no other choice.
They glanced at one another silently. Reluctantly, Scaramouche sighed and nodded at the bard grimly before they took off. The ran side by side, hand in hand and leapt off the cliffside into the air.
And then they were falling. Plummeting. The wind spun around them, clinging to their clothes and messing their hair. Whilst still clutching each other's hand, they were coming awfully close to the treeline. Scaramouche pulled Y/N towards him on instinct and wrapped his arms around her protectively. With an echoing crack of branches and disturbed leaves, the pair of them hurtled through the trees and landed roughly on the forest floor.
A strange anemo capsule that had encased them seemed to disappear into mist and left the two utterly speechless and eternally mortified by what they had just done. The anemo case had shielded them completely, leaving neither of them harmed however heavily disoriented. Amongst the symphony of rustling leaves and whistling birds, the two companions found themselves in a stupified state.
It was Scaramouche who recovered from the situation first. He attempted to sit up only to find the wind spirit lying on top of him, clutching his body for dear life. Her shoulders were shaking and her face was concealed in the safety of the crook of his neck.
"Hey... Are you alright? You're not hurt, are you?" asked Scaramouche with a wavering voice. The worry in his tone was obvious but it became non existent when she lifted her face.
She was laughing. Tears streamed from her eyes as she laughed as if nothing in the world could be funnier than leaping off a mountain to escape a bunch of angry mercenaries and Fatui agents.
"Oh my archons! Bahahaha! Wasn't that just the funnest thing you've ever done? Haha!" she bellowed, wiping the tears from her eyes.
Scaramouche huffed out a breath of relief. Relieved that Y/N was perfectly fine and that they were perfectly alive and perfectly safe. He let his head fall back, allowing himself a single moment to shut his eyes and pull his hands tighter around her waist. He held her with the wish that he'd never have to let go. His hands still trembled from the adrenaline and it had his entire body feeling a wild rush of every emotion that existed.
"Hey, Scara. Are you alright?" asked Y/N gently, leaning forward till he could smell her clean soapy scent and feel her hair brush against his cheek.
"Alright? Oh no, I'm fine. I'm doing just fantastic," he commented sarcastically. Then, he replayed what she had just said. "Wait. What did you just call me?"
Y/N grinned slyly before chuckling. "Well you said I couldn't call you Kunikizushi, or Kuni. So I'm settling with Scara. I think it's cute, don't you?"
He was inclined to agree to anything she said in that moment because the light that filtered in and glowed around her like a halo had simply made it impossible for him to even compute a thought. His gaze travelled down to her lips that grinned devilishly and her eyes that crinkled with excitement and raw adrenaline. Something about the fact that they had thrown themselves into the hands of Death and survived miraculously and safely was making Scaramouche feel more than a little bashful.
"Oh no. You didn't hit your head did you? Are you concussed?" asked Y/N frantically.
"Wha- what? No. No, I'm perfectly fine. I'm… just fine," he replied with another sigh. "Am I right to assume you remember everything from last night?"
"Not everything. But most. Besides, the winds will fill me in on the stuff that's fuzzy," she said with a shrug.
Y/N leaned forward and rested her head on his chest, shutting her eyes briefly as if the world was spinning and if she didn't hold on, she would be thrown off. Scaramouche didn't particularly mind. And soon, he couldn't seem to be able to keep his hands to himself. He raised a hand to gently running his fingers through her hair, to feel that she was really there and that this wasn't some wacky dream.
"Y/N?"
"Mhm."
"I'm going to kill you for making me do that."
"I know."
He smiled. She smiled. It was a universal shift, a moment of mutual acceptance. It felt strange for the two of them to settle on something without continuing it with an argument. They were both exhausted beyond words and enjoying the comfort of each other's embrace too much to really address all there was to talk about.
"What now?" asked Scaramouche.
"What did you mean when you said 'if you knew what I really thought of you' yesterday?" she asked back.
Scaramouche found himself unable to say anything. He wanted to tell her. He wanted her to know that he thought she was as beautiful as the songs she played and that he wished it were possible for him to accept it so easily. But there was that part of him that needed to be fulfilled. The strongest sensation that willed him to forget anything that wasn't related to the gnosis. By admitting it out loud, that he wanted nothing more than to kiss her again but this time entirely out of his free will, he would have to face the facts. He would have to realise that he could never be what his mother wanted and she was right all along.
"Scara? You there?"
"No. Not here," he responded.
"So you're not going to tell me? I guess I'll just have to keep imagining what could possibly be going on inside your head," she said with a chuckle.
He liked that sound a lot. It was a common one, her laugh. But no matter how many times he heard it, the fact that she was doing it in his presence felt like a privilege he didn't deserve. Because he hadn't treated her right for a long time. She deserved an apology. He just wasn't sure how to put it, how to say it in a way that would appease the heart and mind of an artist like herself.
"We should get going," is what Scaramouche settled on.
Y/N lifted herself up and off his chest, simultaneously grabbing for his hands and pulling him up till she was sitting in between his legs. She watched him curiously, hardly making an effort to conceal it. Their faces were mere inches apart, one tilt of the head and their lips would meet. Scaramouche was having trouble focusing.
"You're troubled about something. I can see the unrest in your aura," she commented.
He broke away from her gaze. "I'm troubled about many things. It's nothing uncommon. We don't have much more time to waste to get to Liyue so if you're well enough to walk, we should leave before any of them catch up with us."
Her face fell, her shoulders slumped. She didn't know whether it was something she did but Y/N could feel the chilly tone that he spoke with. She could see those walls slowly begin to form once more, locking away the man she had grown to like. The one who had wiped away her tears and taught her that she might never find her song and it would still be ok.
"You're doing it again, Scaramouche."
"Doing what?"
"Putting up walls. Distancing yourself. You and I both know that we got through to each other at some point. There was development and yet you insist on keeping this barrier between us. Why?" she asked hoarsely. It was evidently upsetting her.
"I have no idea what you're talking about. I've always been like this so I'm unsure why you expect anything more," he stated firmly. "Now. If we are done here, we have one more teleportation ring that will take us to Liyue."
He felt her crestfallen expression in every cell in his body. It pained him to have to use this tone with her but if she kept getting closer, he was afraid his free will would disappear. This time, she really would have him wrapped around her finger. And the worst part is, he wouldn't mind.
But he needed to mind. Because there were things he needed to do and right now they took priority. She was just a means to an end and soon she would realise that. By the end of this journey, Y/N should be overjoyed to finally part ways with the Harbinger. They would never see one another again and all these silly feelings that continued to distract him and occupy so much of his mind would be erased.
Scaramouche chanted in his head in hopes it would become the truth. He tried, but it didn't help that the object of all his distractions and desires was strolling by his side looking in dire need of a hand to hold. He wished it was his hand that was holding hers but he knew if he were to let her in anymore, his curse would get to her too.
If it meant saving her from demise and destruction, he would keep building this wall between them till they were strangers all over again.
A/N
I know this one took a while but we finally got there! Srry about the slow uploads :(
On the bright side we are super close to 2k reads so tysm! I hope this chapter is alright. I actually really like writing in third person so I might try it again sometime depending on how much you guys like it.
Thanks for reading! Xoxo