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He couldn’t believe he was out here in the middle of Inazuma, babysitting a zombie girl making flower crowns out of the thunder sakura petals they’d run across. Qiqi had a huge pile of them, all around her, so thick he couldn’t see the lower half of her dress.
They’d been on the run for a while now; what with him finding the little girl on his journey to flee from the Zapolyarny Palace, where the rest of the Fatui Harbingers lived. Initially harboring the idea of killing her, he’d quickly spotted the jiangshi talisman on her forehead, slick with a thin layer of frost, and decided it was too much of a hassle. Although he tried to leave her behind, she deemed it fit to pad behind him everywhere, even when he trekked across the Bifrost River, where the ice lawachurls resided, where no life was to be found.
Although she showed no signs of tiring, all beings had a limit, living or not, so he flew them down near a peaceful forest in Chinju for her to rest. He wasn’t tired, though. Not at all.
A voice alerted him from his wandering thoughts.
“For you, gege.”
He bristled in surprise. “Who’re you calling-!”
His eyes flickered from her innocent face to the crown in her tiny hands. Slowly, he sat back down. “I can’t wear it with my hat.”
Did I stutter? Her eyes seemed to say as she continued to hold the crown at him, silent as a statue.
He took the damned pink flower crown and placed it on top of his hat, as best as he could. “...Thanks.”
She hummed contentedly as she turned around to make another one, probably for herself. Before he could adjust the one she’d just given him, an arrow whizzed by-and promptly shot it off the cliff.
Qiqi froze, although her calm expression did not change. He knew she could sense it. Only one person he knew could shoot like that, with faulty aim but with incredible raw power.
“Childe,” He sighed, turning his voice as snarky and cutting as it could be, “Watch where you’re aiming.”
“I never knew you liked flower crowns, Sachi!” The Eleventh Fatui idiot drawled as he leaped from behind the treeline. “I would’ve given you lots!”
“Don’t call me that,” Scaramouche gritted his teeth as he pushed to his feet. He should’ve known they were going to catch up sometime. From what he heard, Childe had been keeping in contact with the Traveller lately after their chance meeting in the factory.
Too trusting. The Traveller was too trusting. Too easy to manipulate, not that he didn’t feel bad for doing so. Means to an end, like the Tsaritsa had said. Everyone had ulterior motives, whether they looked like it or not.
The other Harbinger grinned. “Hand over the Gnosis.”
“No.” Scaramouche planted himself in front of Qiqi. A flash of surprise flickered through the other man’s eyes, gone just as quickly as it’d come. His voice was unnaturally skewed, soft. “You’ve changed.”
“So what?” Scaramouche snarled, catalyst book appearing in his hands. “I can still tear off your throat as easily as-”
“Just give me the Gnosis, Scaramouche.” Childe held out his hand.
Means to an end. Means to an end. Means to an end.
“I’m tired,” Scaramouche still stood there stupidly, bracing himself. That part wasn’t a lie, although he tried not to look the part. “You can take it over my dead body.”
Childe snorted. “I’m not going to take it over your dead body. Where’s the fun in that? Besides,” He jutted his chin to Qiqi. “It seems you have a small child to take care of.”
The air crackled with invisible tendrils of Electro as the blood rose to his head. “You will not, dare take her to the Palace.”
Childe stared at him with what seemed to be overwhelming unfamiliarity, then promptly sheathed his water blades. An expression akin to nostalgia crossed his features. “...Fighting you wouldn’t be very fun anymore.”
“You want it?” Scaramouche whispered. “Come take it, like the loyal dog you are.”
“No thanks,” Childe yawned, turning back around.
“Where are you going, Mister Childe?” Qiqi said as she peered out from behind Scaramouche’s hat curtain. The Fatui Harbinger turned around, smiling at her. “Going back, Miss Qiqi. It seems there’s no fighting to be had around here with you lot.”
“Is that all you crave nowadays, Ajax?” Scaramouche snapped, although secretly, he was relieved. All he could notice was the way Childe hadn’t called the Palace his home like he usually did. He’d simply called it “going back”.
“No.” Childe’s voice rang out in the still night air, quiet as a mouse, back to the shadows. It sounded a little wistful, a little small. “No, it isn’t.”
-----
Scenario 2:
“You don’t need the Gnosis anymore?” Qiqi murmured. Despite being near her last minutes of living-or the lack of it-her voice still sounded so soft; so kind, so undeserving of his filthy self, Scaramouche took off his hat in silence.
He didn’t know how Fatui funeral customs worked, or how Inazuman funeral customs worked either. He was a mongrel; a soul stuck in limbo, the worst parts of both worlds. She’d made him feel like he belonged, but now it was her time to go.
Scaramouche took off his hat because it felt like the right thing to do.
“No. I can use it to save you,” He said half-heartedly, knowing very well he couldn’t do that to her. Not when she’d made this decision herself. The last thing he could do was honor her wish, even if it would make him alone again.
The little girl shook her head, pressing the tiny, flickering violet chess piece back into his hands. “No...no need. Qiqi can go, by herself.”
Maybe it was a trend, of all the Raiden Shoguns losing everything dear to them. When he stole the Gnosis-a rightful possession of his as the only male Raiden Shogun-he hadn’t expected to feel anything when he lost his position, his title, his other fellow Fatui Harbingers, or even her.
Childe was right. He had changed.
Ei had lost her sister, and her entire legion of friends and followers. Makoto had lost all her friends, and her life as well. Baal-wasn’t even an Archon, technically. So now he was there. Continued the trend. Stood as everything fell around him, even someone so timeless as Qiqi.
“The talisman.” She reached up for the piece of enchanted paper on her hat, voice so quiet he had to strain his voice to hear. As he watched, her arms fell to her side again, shaking with the effort. “Please...take it off for Qiqi.”
He shook his head, refused, choked out a slew of “no”s so many times he almost believed it himself. But as he watched her struggle, his hands moved of their own accord to rest on the talisman. Hesitated. “I...I can go with you. You won’t have to be alone.”
Qiqi was not so much of a child to not realize the implications behind his sentence. She exhaled. “It’s okay to be alone sometimes, brother. Sometimes that makes us see that we aren’t after all.”
“I will lay you to rest,” He leaned down to wrap his arms around her, swearing the most serious vow he’s ever made besides his Harbinger vow. Only this time, there was no searing hot pain. No ironing. Just an empty, hollow feeling that seeped into his bones and made him want to cry as he peeled off the talisman. Shredded it into tiny bits and let them fall around them like wilted flower petals. “In the most beautiful bed of thunder sakuras in this land, Qiqi.”
“Qiqi would like to make more flower crowns for you and Father.” She hummed as the last shred of the talisman flickered into nothing, and then she was gone.
He placed his bamboo hat’s curtains over her tiny frame, and mourned until the sun set.
----
When the moon rose high in the sky, footsteps sounded behind him.
“Take the stupid Gnosis.” Scaramouche growled thickly as Childe neared where he was keeling over.
Silence. To his surprise, the other Harbinger sat down next to him, readjusting the curtains of his hat so it could cover her entirely. “There. That’s better.”
“What’s your business here?” He said defensively as Childe sat there, cross-legged. The man hummed. “Sachi. Stop deflecting from me. You’re already breaking.”
He turned his attention back to the little girl, whose body looked so still one would think she was sleeping. “Fine.”
A rustle of fabric, of a Hydro vision tinkling as Childe leaned over-
“What-”
Strong arms wrapped around Scaramouche’s shoulders, bringing him into a hug, that wasn’t tight, yet not loose either. “We’re going to make her so many flower chains.” Childe laughed softly against his neck.
“They’re flower crowns, dolt.” Scaramouche rasped, leaning into the hug despite himself, hearing the other male chuckle.
Maybe he could be the first one to break the trend. He certainly hoped so.