Chapter Text
iv.
Having a ballroom event just to celebrate a book anniversary sounds absolutely ridiculous, but it’s Tartaglia they’re talking about. It’s the best seller king of fantasy sci-fi with some ultra hidden motives so he’ll forfeit logic this time and hide.
“Think of it as a Halloween party!” The other states, sing-song.
“October has just begun. You are calling me on the first day of it.” He groans.
The day has yet to be in his favour: He loses about two hours of brainstorming the next scenes after so many have been cut of his draft, and nothing comes up. Yogurt is nibbling one of his socks, sated and happy as Scaramouche has given up completely on this wrestling match, breakfast unfinished and he is sure there’s an egg rolling around the place somewhere.
The much-defeated man lies still on the floor, having the weight of over eighty kilograms of fur and love on his stomach, and grunts into the phone.
“And how would I be able to attend it when you’re in Snezhnaya and I’m in Liyue?”
“Hmm.” Goes the cue for his friend to scratch under his chin thoughtfully as if he hasn’t been planning everything down to the very second for Scaramouche to ask this exact question. It’s been ten years, the gig should be up by now and yet, the magician continues to dance. “You do know that planes exist right? Either that or a virtual ball then?”
“What the fuck is that?”
“Planes? Well, far as I know, they take flight and sometimes can be the main theme around a sci-fi horror such as the Final Destination franchise—”
He runs a palm down his face and longs for the sweet release of anything but this. “No, the other thing, Ajax. The shit that makes sense.”
As if proud of himself for having the high ground, the guy clicks his tongue for a few moments with this knowledge.
“Oh my sweet, sweet old friend who has never seen life since he’s introduced to type machines in the 1950s.” Tartaglia soothes. “In my home country, technology has gone to the point of video calling — images on screen, y’know? They move, too. I sincerely think you’d benefit from it. Maybe call in on your grandchildren every two days or get a bingo date with a lady your age.”
“Die.” Scaramouche deadpanned and laughter erupts.
“Fine. Fine.” Tartaglia chuckles. “But I’m serious. You can just join the call as I livestream the entire event. Leave at any time you want, but only after I give my speech, yeah? People wouldn’t even bother you with small talk and you can skip wearing pants if you position the webcam correctly above.”
The whole deal is slightly tempting.
Not the attire, but it is tempting.
“Email me the date and I’ll see what I can do, planes or not.” He murmurs before Yogurt decides to flop down next to him instead, giving Scaramouche room to breathe for the first time in an hour. Holy shit, he has forgotten how good air tastes without matte furs in each inhale. “No guarantee.”
“Of course.” Comes a lilt. “Also, just a tiny little note.”
“What?”
“A-date-is-required-for-this-goodbye!”
Jaw-slacked as the other end comes to an abrupt cut, oh how he wishes it’s Tartaglia being strangled underneath his weight.
He doesn’t tell Lumine at first because she’s an editor and he’s practically co-existing in a professional environment with goals to keep in sight.
You don’t blabber to the guy working at a drive-thru about your idiotic friend because he’s not paid enough to listen, you don’t tell the dog said friend left behind because he’s not keen to understand. There is a time and a place for everything so Scaramouche just sort of, sulks around until he can figure out something else close to therapy — but less, please fix my brain and more of, can I vent to you about something really quick with no diagnosis in return?
But Lumine is also his online close partner, a friend that doesn’t quite know she is a friend, and that’s a loophole he can confide in.
【sweet_tooth6: good morning. someone i know is being stupid again ￣へ￣.】
【starlight: the guy who had his tinder profile as him being naked with a fish?】
【starlight: or the lady you’re close to putting a restriction order on?】
The air shifts, light and pretty and he lets out a snort.
She sure has great memories for someone who keeps ‘forgetting’ to call him back.
【sweet_tooth6: fish man...】
【starlight: yikes】
【starlight: which poor creature is in his dating profile this time】
【starlight: wait don’t tell me i want to guess】
【starlight: is it an octopus? please be an octopus】
He nods as if he understands her choice of words, which he doesn’t, but it’s nice to be supportive off-screen without anyone to witness this. Scaramouche will find a way to intellectually ask about her opinion on the creature later.
【sweet_tooth6: i’d rather it was an octopus than me on a platter.】
【starlight: oh?】
【starlight: what’s wrong?】
【sweet_tooth6: he asked me to go out & socialise for a night. not my thing.】
【starlight: you? 】
【starlight: my ex-husband?】
【starlight: light of the party?】
【starlight: king of the most kudos historically accurate smut fic during 2015?】
Ah yes, one of the ten thousand reasons why he can never let her (or anyone) knows who is texting behind this icon.
He can vaguely paint the scenes of what would happen afterwards to his publicity, people either raging on his choices of trying every pairing at least once — or his present participation in every smut fest she hosts, which is every single one. They probably won’t take kindly to his likes history, which is very much a dumpster fire of fursonas of his characters (for design purposes) and stale memes Lumine has sent him.
It’s not like he has to wait for public opinion to see the potential disaster, Tartaglia has brought up one of his fanfic works randomly one afternoon and Scaramouche doesn’t recall a time where he has run over eight blocks just to zip the other’s mouth.
Blood runs cold in his veins, she has seen too much to know the full picture.
【sweet_tooth6: you’re horrible.】
【starlight: and you still married me】
【starlight: go figure】
There’s a sense of irony in marital jokes.
Two actually, if we’re keeping count.
The first one is, he doesn’t recall agreeing to marry her, ever.
But he remembers thinking of what she could have looked like during the years they were friends, he remembers trying to piece together bits and pieces of her through woven tales and silly adventures. Remembers staying up past his deadline to review her revision and dissection of modern literature for two weekends before her exam. Remembers her fuzzy, water damaged voice audio where she sent him the view of an aurora for the first time ever, and a few of her giggles has been caught in the very last second. Remembers playing it for days on end because he loved the sound, which is stupid, and prepubescent, and sad of him.
(This is the same person who wrote a fic about y/n choking the main character to death and becoming ghost lovers together! He groans and the other part of his sensibility shoots back. And that’s the same fic that inspired you to at least consider horror elements in your work!)
Another irony is more stupid and even less sane, something that starts blooming when he sees her in his kitchen with a creme coloured apron and a pot of things he doesn’t dare ask — the same thing that bites at his neck when she smiles, even as a courtesy before heading home after every meeting — and thinks to himself, huh, he doesn’t mind getting married to her, ever.
But perhaps it’s just a side effect of the off-brand cold medicines she got.
He needs to have his head fixed, somehow.
【starlight: in all seriousness, i wouldn’t encourage you to do what you don’t want to. but if it helps, text me and i’ll be there in spirit with ya】
【starlight: you got this】
In hindsight, that is probably the best and worst thing she could have suggested to his mind.
Ganyu seems pleased to notice him loitering around her office for Lumine’s schedule.
Or maybe she’s secretly creeped out and has the very ill-paid security team waiting for him at the gate — it would not be the first nor the last time, really, the woman has never been one for a readable expression.
“I’m glad to know you guys are getting along,” She notes, voice gentle and he’s a bit jittery. It feels small, insignificant to ask but he just needs to make sure that the company wouldn’t keep her busy during that one night.
“We’re quite alright.” He shrugs and she blinks, slowly, as if reading him like one of the books behind her desk. The one that has a neat, thick cover on the mahogany shelf. “I just needed her attention on this for inspiration. You understand how the progress goes, I believe.”
“I do.” She says and spares Scaramouche from the case of a first-hand embarrassment. “Anything to help with the progress, of course. I will shift Lumine’s schedule according to your planned vision.”
The person in question catches him on his way out, doesn’t quite yet form her questions when he gives her a glance and she turns away, possibly storing this for later reflection.
Being a notoriously hard to please author has its perks, he thinks.
【Kuzushi: Are you free this Friday evening? There is an event I think you would be interested in joining for more knowledge.】
【Lumine: It depends. What type of event is it?】
【Kuzushi: The third anniversary of《Of the Land Amidst the Celestial》by Childe.】
【Lumine: I have indeed heard of the author, but isn’t the event held in Snezhnaya?】
【Lumine: No offence but the Jade Chamber absolutely does not have enough of a budget to send both of us over there for one brief evening, sir. We barely can afford office lunch these days.】
【Kuzushi: . . .】
I can cover the travel fees, he types then deletes. Quit the company and work independently for me, he backspaces. If he has known her in any capacity, she does not need his hands in any of this.
【Kuzushi: I know the author personally and will be having access to a livestream of said event. Is that good enough for your attendance?】
The light icon next to her account goes out and he wonders if he has said too much. It’s less intense, probably the most lukewarm option out of all three others in his mind, but he can’t read her tone through these formalities and it’s hard to get inside of her head.
Scaramouche reviews the text twice, thrice and puts his phone down.
When morning comes and he’s greeted by the rose blush on the horizon, Lumine has texted him back a “yes”.
Greetings world,
Have you all been working hard for the end of the year?
It seems that the first week of October has brought us a beautiful start to this final sprint, as it is much dawn-tinted in every step.
I woke up to the sound of rustling leaves and here is the part where everyone is happy to some extent and we are all forgiven for our past hurts, even when we don’t deserve it. For every dark thought you have been holding back, there will be a shade of purity after autumnal warmth. And for every shade in the colour palette of life, you will go through different hues so the full picture can be more complete after a look back on your journey.
Given the nature of these blog entries compared to my fleshed-out novels, they are fragmented but still a part of my thoughts, my worries. Which makes it personal and can be off putting at time to confront my past posts.
Here is a thing about history: It is scary to have your heart on a sleeve for many to interpret in a million ways, but when I consider where I am right now on this path of life, the wooden planks that past me have left behind can now help build a small bridge across wider horizon.
While it is unfortunate that we don’t have that kind of leisure to unpack our impact on others and vice versa, because we do — we affect all that grow around us; I sincerely hope every word I have ever written could be a pebble adding up to something grand in your life, giving you a last push into the right direction — or a dream you always long to succeed.
I am extremely grateful for your love, your affection that has been supporting me up till this far in my life. Thank you and please let me continue our relationship as the seasons continue to change and our worries ease to nothingness, please let me support you.
Much love,
Kuzushi.
As he brushes a few knots out of Yogurt’s thick layers of fur in between the same old charade of “Oh, dear god I don’t even like you, please stop licking me,” there is a notification that catches his eyes in the sea of hearts and comments:
User starlight has liked your post, it says, like clockwork and his day is made.