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The sky turns to a blood red as the sun falls and the moon rises.
Some say that the sunset is the most beautiful thing that nature brings. The fact that the shimmering sky can paint colors untold and create a canvas so daring and unique is impeccable.
To Arlecchino however, the blood red sky serves as an alarm for all cunning evil.
The sun setting told all criminals across the land that their time had arrived. Afterall, a thief that thieves in broad daylight is asking to be captured by the authorities. The night was a much sinister story. Shadows could be mixed and matched, unconscious bodies resting at their most vulnerable can be easily manipulated and robbed, and all of it can happen within a blink of an eye for the less knowledgeable. However, Arlecchino knew this, which gave her an open eye view on humanity. The world is a cruel place, and she would only allow herself to be played a fool one time.
After all, fool the Knave once, shame on her. Fool her twice, shame on you and all you have.
Today was different though.
She felt an odd feeling sitting in her gut, one she had since gotten rid of in her childhood. Who needed gut feelings when you had brute strength and knowledge? However it appeared, Arlecchino found herself walking the edge of the House of the Hearth, just outside its majestic walls and into the open land. She scanned the area for any threat that would come to her children and felt herself being pulled towards the city.
After making sure all the children were asleep, Arlecchino pulled on her leathered cape and went in search of the mysterious aura pulling her close.
It wasn’t until she found herself following a trail of messily scattered blood that she understood that gut feeling.
She had always been pulled to the less fortunate, always being cursed in any position. To her pet spider that people preached was a token of death, to the agonizing curse that crawled its way up her forearms, Arlecchino has known tragedy like the back of her hand. Tragedy was not discriminatory, letting its poisonous branches grasp onto all life, no matter age.
And the scene in front of her was not short of any of that same tragedy.
After all, a child holding a knife over a bloodied corpse is not a sight that would leave one satisfied.
The small child in front of her had dirty, blonde hair that rested tangled on his shoulders and his ripped white shirt— that looked way too big on him— fell off his shoulders just a tiny bit. In his hands, was a bloodied knife with a jade green hilt that shined past the thick substance. Blood was splattered all over his face and clothes in a way that made Arlecchino forget that this was a child she was observing. For a second, Arlecchino debated on the matter and whether she should confront the kid or leave him for the authorities to take.
But when she saw this child's eyes as he looked up at her, Arlecchino's heart stopped. His two-toned eyes were vacant and held no shine like the average person. Much like hers. They were dark and full of hatred and vengeance. For a mere second, she reminisced on the day she killed her predecessor and was found by the Fatui. She can only imagine what ran through their brain as they saw a teenager covered in blood standing next to the corpse of a Fatui Harbinger, however, seeing this child in front of her, she can also imagine that this might be close to what those Fatui members felt.
“Are you alright, little one?” The child’s face shot up as he heard her voice and she saw him raise the bloodied knife in her direction, a movement that seemed like pure habit and instinct. This poor, cursed child. How Arlecchino wanted so terribly to steal him away from this gruesome reality. But a strict and unfeeling father cannot show that to her children. “D-don’t come any closer,” he warned hesitantly, “I-” Arlecchino fully stepped out of the shadows and kneeled to be on eye with the child. “Don’t worry little one. I’m not here to hurt you,” she coaxed as she saw his hand tremble with uncertainty, “I just want to see if you’re okay.”
The Knave could see the way his eyes ran calculations, the way his face scrunched up in confusion as if he had never heard the Teyvat Language before. Judging by the scene before her, Arlecchino doubted that he ever knew a moment of peace in his short, blooming life. His bleak and agonized little face tensed up, and it was not long before the tears started to fall, leaving streaks past the grime and blood still splattered on his face. “He- he was-”
“I’m not asking about him, my child. I’m asking about you. Are you alright? Hurt anywhere?”
The boy shook his head furiously, tears still dripping down his chin and leaving dirty stains on his clothes. Arlecchino looked around and made sure no random civilian would see her and the child and opened her coat, inviting him to the warmth it guaranteed. “You can come with me child. We best move along now if we want to avoid any rash questioning that the authorities might throw your way when they see this corpse.” With that, the frail and dirtied boy walked into her embrace and followed her back to the orphanage.
The way there was silent, the only sound being the earth they walked upon. Arlecchino felt the child tremble against her in fear as they walked their way up to the orphanage over the hill the children usually played on. She doubted that this child had ever felt the joys of life and the knowledge of a normal one. His dull, vacant eyes were surely a token of a life terribly granted. As they walked, Arlecchino attempted to keep his trembling to a minimum.
“What’s your name, my child?”
She felt his small hand fist the layers of her coat, almost as if grasping to anything that could reassure him that the world in front of him was real.
His wavered voice whispered into the fabric, “Kakavasha.”
Blessed by the Gods. How pitifully ironic. Both of them walk upon a land that claims fortune and deals tragedy to those named with fortune. Peruere and Kakavasha. How beautifully tragic.
“What a beautiful name.” Kakavasha sniffled and dug his face further into her embrace. For a second, the unfeeling mask as father fell off Arlecchino’s soul. For a second, she felt protective of this little boy. For a second, she really was Peruere, remaining sad as her spider was killed. For a second, she was a mother seeing pain inflicted on her poor child.
For a second, Kakavasha was hers.
Walking at her side. As they arrived at the orphanage, the heavy iron gates creaked open, revealing the dimly lit courtyard. The hinges of the swing set squeaked against the wind and wrapped the eerie aura that bled through the towering walls with sound. She still felt his trembling figure pressed up against her and sought to bring him near the hearth, in hopes of warming him up to stop the shiver. “Child, do you wish to eat? The others are asleep but rest assured I can still cook something up for you if needed.” The sheer obvious nature of this boy told her that he probably didn't not have the luxury of having a meal, and the least Arlecchino could do in the midst of taking this boy under her care is to change his experience with food. She stood up from the luxurious couch and walked up to the kitchen, little Kakavasha waddling close behind.
After eating, Kakavasha laid down in a spare bed that Arlecchino always left prepared for newcomers. The warmth of the blankets was something he had never known outside of his mother and sister’s loving embrace. For a mere second, he wished he could give them the same with it. Arlecchino sat at the foot of his bed as he tucked himself in and hesitantly looked over at her. “Worry not, my child. No harm shall befall you so long as you are in these walls. I will make sure of that.”
It took only a few more minutes for the poor child to close his eyes and embrace the comfort of the hearth. Arlecchino pondered the little boy’s fate as she looked at the belongings he had stashed beside him that fell out of the pillow. One of the items was a cracked aventurine stone that shined under the orphanage’s dull candlelight. She vaguely recalls how the man from earlier was donned with riches even as he lay in a pool of blood. He could have stolen that for all I know, she thought, but, it seems it has helped him…
The child could grow in her care whether it was luck or not. He already had a flame, one that burned with a rage and tragedy that reminded her of her own from years ago when she battled the previous Knave. To have that at such a younger age, was intriguing. One that her House of the Hearth would definitely benefit from.
Arlecchino patted the child’s head, a motion she gave all new children. He would be reborn in this very moment. He would leave all else, all of it, in the outside world. Out there, Kakavasha would be known as a child of no hope, no family, and no home. But here, he is…
“Welcome to my House of the Hearth… Aventurine.”