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“HE WAS ORIGINALLY BORN TO BE A VESSEL FOR A "HEART." BUT HE SHED TEARS IN HIS DREAMS.
HIS CREATOR OBSERVED THUS:
HE WAS TOO FRAGILE, WHETHER IT BE AS A HUMAN OR AS A TOOL.
…
LATER, THE BEAUTIFUL PUPPET AWOKE AND BEGAN HIS WANDERINGS.
HE OBSERVED MANY A HEART, GOOD ONES, UPRIGHT ONES, STRONG ONES, GENTLE ONES...
THE PUPPET, TOO, DESIRED A HEART.”
-SONG OF LIFE, HUSK OF OPULENT DREAMS
The feet of the wanderer finally began to tire out after hours of walking. He’s the child of Archon, a supposed vessel for her dreams, but he was left to be abandoned just because she deemed him as delicate. His skin that's made out of porcelain turned into flesh as he explored the vast nation of his creator after he was left alone.
The doll that looks like its mother, breathes its first breaths. After some time, the Archon pitied her creation, afraid it might destroy itself after following her footsteps, she thus freed him out of nowhere with no explanation. In the present, the raindrops can be heard falling from the leaves of purple trees, making the beautiful teen drowsy.
But his abandonment of his mother haunts him ‘till this day, he asks under his heavy breath, "Was I wrong, mother? Am I a failure for you because I let my tears out?....." The exquisite humanoid doll sighed. Echoes filled the empty cavern he currently resides in. “If I knew that before… then will I able to feel the warmth of your hug?” He pondered this question. Even though his body does not work like a normal human does, the mist and loneliness of his surroundings succumbed his body, making him missed and doubt his existence that he’s been trying to hide.
She caressed his cheek as he cries the agony of his dreams.
He met humans that showed him emotions, he despised it. Or maybe he’s just hating himself? Why can a normal human laugh, cry, and be sad unlike him? It's been too long since Scaramouche wandered, he met humans, and he desires not only for his mother's love, but also a real heart. "Maybe gaining a heart will make her accept me?"
Her creation holds her dress as he slowly stops his sobs.
The Archon, his creator, didn’t said anything why would she left him. But he still blames it on himself being a crybaby— a failure as his mother’s successor. It was seen in her eyes, a full of disappointment and pity. The child’s sensitivity to the emotions didn’t help this poor doll. Overthinking and complicating his thoughts, he himself thought he’s bound into darkness.
Suddenly, the loud droplets became a trigger for his seething anger. He clenched his teeth as to why even though he has no heart, his emotions betrays him? If it is not for his emptiness for his mother’s love, he wouldn’t be suffering right now. The wanderer's emotions have become unresponsive. Thunder echoed inside the cave which incurred the bats to flap loudly. Then his eyes slowly enveloped the darkness while trying not to hug himself to sleep.
Seeing her child peacefully fell asleep in her arms, she decided to picked him up and sin a lullaby to him.
Poor doll wasted his time wandering and met an unending conclusion. As he was about to meet his drowsiness, a thumping pair of feet echoed through the cave. The doll became aware and tried to conceal his presence by halting his breath. Unfortunately, the clomping feet suddenly fell silent. Without knowing who might that be, the doll tried to make his way into the entrance. There he met a six footer man with the air of quintessential and mystery. He appeared lost and interesting for the lonely doll. The doll asked with wariness, “Who might you be?” His hatred for humans loom in depths of his voice.
But the fine gentleman didn’t know that, so he answered, “Hello dear wanderer, I am Pierro.” His voice was accompanied with seriousness that suits his appearance.
Minutes passed by and the doll who was about to sleep a while ago, sat down. It looks like he’s tired from something, may it be from his emotions or his body. “There’s no greeting at all?” the man curiously asked. His footsteps echoed again inside the cave.
“If you plan to stay here because of the weather then I don’t mind…. However I occupied it first it. Suit yourself.” The teen replied from his question. Even though the doll is jealous of humans, he has no reason to be mean at the times like this. His innocence still lingered in his face and his imaginary heart.
The man strolled and decided to stay beside the teenager. “Name’s Pierro, dear doll, what’s your creator named you?” But the doll didn’t move nor speak with him. He just ignored his friendly and warm gestures with him.
He fell asleep, the doll thought to himself. His eyes roamed around the cave, but there’s no sign of the stranger that he let in. The warmth beside him was still there so he went out of the cave. There he saw Pierro, standing behind an oak tree while crossing his arms, as if he is waiting for him.
His mouth agape but he immediately closed it. Maybe perhaps he still wants to feel his lingering feelings on having someone to watch him grow. The doll just stood there as if he’s thinking of something deeply. He strides towards the man along with the sounds of mud underneath his steps. The little teen appeared in Pierro’s vision and says, “I do not own name, nor given one. But I call myself as a wanderer.” The wanderer answered the question Pierro asked last night.
“You’re just a child, hopeless and free to will; won’t you asked how I knew about you?”
“You can tell me that even in next days to come.” His cheeks puffed a bit. The yearning of someone who’ll guide him made him conclude to be with strangers for a few days to come.
Pierro’s sigh in relief, as if he’s waiting for this to happen. “Then shall I call you Scaramouche?”
The wanderer, now as Scaramouche stayed silent for a while. The two of them under the oak tree just stayed there until the sunset came down. And this event still etched in their minds until now.
…
The wind past by his kasa, which larger than his petite body, and his gaze longingly stares at the place he’s born and made. As if his eyes are full, he turned around with steps that much more lighter than when he was travelling. Whilst saying his goodbyes, “My mother, My creator, I may be bitter by saying this but… Thank you for discarding me. I won’t finally have a dreams longing for your care…. Now, that found someone who’ll share our own stories.”
The balladeer hummed as he imagined the symphony of notes of his journey will produce.