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Seeing them together, his chest ached.
But a solemn smile graced his lips, for oh how stupid he was. The pieces fell into one unfair truth perfect picture and he couldn’t help but chuckle to himself. How, he’d ponder as he snuck away into the shadows, could he believe someone as perfect beautiful ethereal incredible important as the Traveller could ever see him differently? To not gaze upon him as a companion but as something more? A lover chance to relax, laugh, smile at the subtle beauties of this foreign realm whilst she ventured for her lost brother?
The pictures of her with that fennec played in his mind. Flowers bursting with colour in her arms, her smile oh her smile her body trembling with giggles as that green fox swayed his tail from side to side. He cared little for the man beside her, but her golden pools continued to rival with the suns harsh rays and that alone tore him apart crushed him. He had hoped, dreamed, that her eyes brightened around him alone, but perhaps he was being too eccentric with his newfound hope.
So be it. With a small smile on his face, the blocking of the light granting him the smallest bit of privacy, he waited for the traveller. And allowed a subtle tear to fall.
“You seem like you’re in a good mood,” he commented once they were reunited. Eyes dried.
Lumine grinned, “Yes. Tighnari was a lot of help just now.”
Scaramouche perked a brow, teeth gritted,“The flowers being involved, I assume.”
She smiled at the bouquet she was embracing, eyes focused on the soft lily petals before her, “Yeah, actually,” His heart oh his poor poor heart “they’re simply beautiful.”
He chose not to respond. He had learned that indulgence would get him nowhere, so he welcomed the silence that fell upon them. Eyes fixated on the ground before him, occasionally glancing up at her, the pair made their way to… Archons knows where, he’d be honest. After many months of travelling with Lumine and Paimon, he had grown used to just following her wherever she went. Albeit, perhaps he had put too much faith in the woman, but considering he had no clear goal as of right now, he wasn’t bothered. It also meant they could spend more time together and he could fall for her more and more.
Unexpectedly, however, Lumine would stop in her tracks. He passed her, took a few steps more, before eventually mirroring her. Scaramouche turned to look at her over his shoulder and purposefully avoided falling into those eyes.
“…what?”
“Um,” Lumine shifted in her place, her eyes wandering to whatever patch of grass interested her more than his question. Scaramouche, noticing this, eventually turned his body towards her.
He gathered she had sensed his attention, for eventually, she continued:
“Could I… be alone for a moment?”
Scaramouche’s eyes widened for a split second, only to narrow with frustration confusion. “Whatever for?”
“I just need to…” She glanced down at the flowers in her arms, tightening her hold on them. Scaramouche watched. “I need to do something quickly.”
“And I can’t join you because..?”
“Because I don’t want you to—“
I don’t want you. I don’t want you. She doesn’t want you. She doesn’t need you.
His eyes fell from her features, whatever other words she uttered falling onto uninterested ears. The soft frown he didn’t realise he was wearing slowly lifted into a timid smile once she had finished speaking, unregistered words lost in the humid air around them. He took a deep breath through nostrils, surprised at just how suffocating it was, before he eventually snapped up to look at Lumine.
Gold touched oceans. They didn’t warm up the depths.
“Whatever, then.” He responded, only to take his leave without sparing another glance.
The sky above had showcased its many colours, falling into a peaceful state of twilight. Dusk birds silenced their songs as the fireflies lit up the horizon, entertaining their own performance as the world around them fell into a peaceful slumber.
Scaramouche used the lonely hours to his advantage. Whenever he had some spare time—between minutes and hours—he would allow his thoughts to wander. To dispel distraction and reflect, whether it be on the past, future or present. He will imagine, remember, guilt over everything and anything, consumed by humanity’s strongest and yet weakest vessel: his mind. What he initially believed to be complex programming resulted in being his biggest weakness—albeit Nahida would assure him it was also his biggest strength—and as of late, he found himself rather vulnerable. Silence, the soft wind kissing his exposed skin, and Scaramouche would simply sigh.
Tonight—like every other night—his thoughts would him back to her. Golden flocks dancing in the wind, her pink cheeks warming as she gazed at him. Her bright smile would adorn her features, her soft voice urging him to keep up, whilst his preoccupied mind worshipped her. Held her close. Loved her. Wanted her.
Scaramouche looked up to Lumine, envied her strength and yet sympathised with her. One and the same, for she too was alone. The two shared similar experiences with their past, ending with them journeying to find that something . For Lumine, it was her long-lost sibling, whilst for him, it was his identity. His self-worth. Whilst their goals may not have been achieved, they still had a long way to go.
He didn’t mind. As long as he spent time with her As long as they welcomed new discoveries to their curious minds, he could care less for how long their adventures would be.
Softly, in the nearby distance, his sensitive programming would pick up on a crunching leaf. It was quiet, possibly due to the lightness of the weight, though it was relatively close to where he was. Tilting his head over his shoulder, violet eyes fell upon a petite figure. With the pristine dress dancing against Barbatos’s wind, he sighed with relief again.
“…what do you want?”
Lumine hummed, approaching. “I had a feeling you’d be here. What’re you thinking about?”
Her understanding sent shivers down his spine. She had picked up on his behaviour. She cared enough to pay attention. Scaramouche turned his body around more, allowing himself to look at her properly.
Ethereal. “None of your business,” he responded, clicking his tongue, “are you done with whatever you were doing?”
“Yes,” she didn’t press on, “in fact, I was looking for you.
He perked a brow. “For me?”
Lumine nodded, extending a hand out towards him. His gaze fell from her golden orbs to her gloved hands, dainty fingers enticing him just by looking empty. He wanted to intertwine his own with hers, keep the warm. Keep her safe. Scaramouche pondered for a short while, before laughing to himself.
“What, already bored with the fox?”
Lumine tilted her head, confusion swirling in her eyes. Without explaining, however, he’d just shake his head. Humour her, also, by taking her hand, letting her strength help him up.
They were close. So, so close. Inches away if he leaned forward. Her lips her lips her lips were right there. He wanted to press his against hers and sing.
“We’ll be traversing to the teapot,” she warned him as she gripped his hand, giving it a soft squeeze. His chest flipped. Ears reddened.
“Fine.”
Surroundings blurred into a mess of colours, transcending through nothingness and imagination. No matter how often he travelled into her little teapot, he could never truly grasp the description of what he sees; what he feels. It’s confusing, mystical, strange, though the familiarity of the blonde beside him—beams of moonlight embracing her small frame, cooling her warm features in such a mesmerising manner—relieves his hysteria.
Although… something was off.
“Lumine,” he’d softly utter, his eyes flickering between the new scenery before him. He had explored pretty much everything Lumine’s current realm had to offer, though he hadn’t seen anything like this before; fields of blooming flora panned out across the horizon, a tunnel of sakura trees painting the land pink whilst the cool greys and blues of makeshift waterfalls peeked through the natural trail. If he had to guess, a pool of water would await them both beneath the waterfalls, followed by boulders for them to sit upon.
“It’s a work-in-progress,” she admitted, tugging on his hand as she guided them down that very trail, “more so a basic plan for what’s to come. I remember you admitting how you find nature beautiful, and with how you prefer to get lost in your thoughts amongst pretty scenery, I just thought it’d be a nice, little place for you.”
Scaramouche—his chest tightening, heat swirling where his heart would be—couldn’t help but stare at the Traveller. Her lips had curved into a gentle smile, her eyes glossing over her project, almost as if she herself was marvelling over her creation. As she’d continue to point out little details from their journey together, (the wooden statues gifted to them by woodcarvers; images of little animals they spotted in the rain; even peculiar flowers that Scaramouche had never seen before) Scaramouche couldn’t help but feel… lost.
Why him? Why do this all for him? It seemed a bit much, too extensive, too exhausting, yet to use her precious time on something as worthless stupid vile disposable as him… he couldn’t wrap his head around it.
“Oh! One last thing,” Lumine exclaimed, swiftly pulling the Wanderer towards the side of the pool—he didn’t even realise they had reached the end of looming trees, the back of his legs hitting the small boulders as he sat himself down—whilst she rustled for something within that odd inventory of hers. Parted lips quivered shut as he waited, bewilderment now showing in his deep pools, before they slipped open again once she turned back around.
In her arms… a woven garland. If memories served him correctly, it looked vaguely similar to the one Lumine had been gifted by the Aranara.
”I’ll admit, I had to get help with this… I’ve never made a garland before,” a bashful comment confirmed his thoughts, pushing the piece towards him. His eyes fixed on the gift presented, a mixture of lilies, roses, gardenias softly swayed in the distant wind. Shyly dancing, conveying promises through their mere appearance. Pupils dilated, softened, jumped to the side as more and more thoughts filled his mind, pushing aside any sort of control he had once had.
He shot up a glance at Lumine who—to further his dazed state—was blushing. Her cheeks a dusty pink, her hands joined together in a shy stance, moving back and forth on the heels of her boots.
“Lumine, I…” he started, his words falling into a compiled mess as he tried to join words together, “I don’t… what is… what..?”
“What do you mean?”
”Why did you… do this for me?”
The outlander frowned, though it came across as more of a pout, “Don’t tell me you forgot about your own birthday!”
Birthday.
The day of his creation. This day, many centuries ago, his mother his guardian his blood the Raiden Shogun had created a prototype to follow her wish. Her demand. To promise Inazuma a land of eternity and to protect it at all costs. However, upon his creation, he had failed her criteria and was later discarded, following up with another puppet to replace him. His eyes squinted at the sour memories, anger coursing through leads as he stared down at his hands. Although, this time, with the soft touch of the flowers Lumine had gathered for him, he felt the rage inside slowly dispel, replaced with nothing but fondness for this particular day.
It’s not like he had forgotten about it entirely. He just didn’t care for it enough to pay heed to it.
”I had never celebrated this day,” he quietly muttered, fingertips nervously trailing the piece before him, “so I don’t understand why I should now.”
He felt Lumine’s presence grow closer to him. Felt her warmth beside him as she took a seat next to him. Melted into her touch as she took his trembling hand in hers.
“Maybe not, but I wanted to show my appreciation for you on this special day,” she quietly shared, her thumb brushing over his smooth skin. His gaze fixed itself onto the movement of her fingers.
“Ren, you mean a lot to me. I never expected to be so… drawn, I guess, to someone before. Out of everyone I’ve met in my journey, you’re the one I believe I’m most thankful for.
”You have given me a space I didn’t believe I could have as everyone’s hero. I always thought I had to keep up this superior image to earn respect from others: to urge people to like me and to support me in my ongoing search. But you—you never cared for that. You didn’t want anything to do with the persona I was displaying, but instead wanted to dive deeper into who I really was—really am. You prodded me, annoyed me, had me nearly kill you, but not once did you ever try to force me to be someone I wasn’t. So… thank you, Ren. Thank you for everything… and—“
She leaned her head against his shoulder, now intertwining her fingers with his. A pleasant, shaken sigh slipped from her lips.
“…happy birthday, little Wanderer.”
With tears brimming his sockets, a smile adorned his features. Blissful happiness would be the easiest way to describe what he was feeling, but adoration would certainly fit it also. He didn’t understand—despite the heartfelt speech Lumine declared to him—but he felt warm. Pleasant. Happy. He embraced these feelings, welcomed them, and he fell further into this dream as he, too, rested his head upon her own. He clutched her own hand, squeezed it for reassurance, before closing his eyes.
”Thank you, Lumi.”
“…by the way,”
”Hm?”
”What exactly did you mean by… ‘bored of that fox’?”
Scaramouche’s eyes reopened, his lips falling into a small frown.
Ah. Let embarrassment make its way into that little list of his.