Chapter Text
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“Makoto.”
“No. Absolutely not . I hate it.”
“Well, I think it’s pretty. And it suits you.”, Aether smiles, quite smugly from his comfortable seat at Scaramouche’s bedside.
Paimon huffs from her place, floating beside Aether with a frown on her face. “Paimon thinks he deserves an uglier name. That’s way too nice for someone like him .”
“Wow. For once your stupid little bug has something worthwhile to say.”, Scaramouche mocks. sitting himself up straighter from his spot in bed. “You should listen to it.”
“Wha- bug! Why you–”, Paimon stomps her foot into the air. “You deserve an even uglier name now! Like, like– uh! Hmph! Aether, pick a really mean one!”
After Scaramouche’s “fiasco” of trying to take himself out of existence, to right the past, failed spectacularly, followed Buer wrenching her hand into his mind and all but forcing him to come to terms with his life (cruel, like the God she is. He should have expected it, seen it coming), to literally fighting himself in a dreamstate that gave real-world injuries– Lead them to this point.
Laying here in “ his bed ” in “ his room ” within the Sanctuary of Surasthana. Wrapped in bandages over every piece of visible skin and clad in loose-fitting robes. Courtesy of the Lesser Lord. Who had assumed the responsibility of his oh-so diligent caretaker.
Watched at every second by the God herself or the enigmatic Traveler who Scaramouche can’t convince to just kill him already .
“I like the one I picked. You said I could pick.”, Yeah, Scaramouche may have SAID that after everything. A right that was given to the Traveler flippantly, after the brief elation on receiving a Vision (from a God who wasn’t Her ), and a manic high from crushing his past self into a pile of wreckage. But saying it is different than actually letting the other man do it.
(The Vision hasn’t left his hand since he got it. Clutched tightly and held close to his chest.)
Aether sighs, looking at the pouting expression on the former Harbinger’s face. “I understand it. You don’t want a name you associate with Ei–”
Scaramouche twist his body (ow, fuck, his everything hurt), face screwed in anger and eyes blazing. Just hearing her name lights a fire in his empty chest.
“–But I really think it fits you. A promise. To be sincere, to right your wrongs and be true to who you are.”
Scaramouche deflates. The weight of his sins and karmic debt burden his spirit. “I think that’s stupid.”, He hisses, grasping his Vision tighter.
“No, you don’t~” , Aether sing-songs. Accustomed to the puppet’s mannerisms already.
“Yes, I do.”, Scaramouche pushes back, like the very mature almost-five-hundred year-old he is.
“No, he doesn’t.”, A new voice joins in. Childlike, floating through the air with whimsy. “I can sense it in his mind.”
Just like Nahida can feel how he tries his hardest to shut down his own thoughts when she states that. She hides a laugh into her hand, walking into the room. “I take it that you have chosen a name?”, Nahida asks Aether.
“I did! He doesn’t like it!”, Aether sounds suspiciously upbeat as he states this.
“What did you pick?”, Nahida climbs onto the Balladeer’s bed. Sitting at the foot of it and ignoring how said occupant of the bed curls even further up.
“Makoto.”
Nahida claps her hands together with a bright expression. “So pretty! And the name of the original Archon to Inazuma with deep meanings attached. A strong choice, Traveler!”
“Right?”
“I’m not taking that name.”, Scaramouche seethes. “I’d rather have anything else. Better yet, just kill me.”
Aether takes a moment, placing his hand on his chin in a faux-thinking pose.
“Well, you gave me the right to your name as an ‘I’m sorry for trying to kill you multiple times and also being a terrorist’, so if you don’t want the one I picked, I’m open to suggestions. But they come with one year of service to Paimon tax.”, The boy smiles evilly.
Scaramouche looks honest-to-Gods disgusted at the notion. “I am not doing a single thing for that thing .”
“Just for that, you’re doing all the dishes! Even when we make really sticky foods that are hard to clean! Especially those!”, Paimon sticks her tongue out at the Balladeer.
A beat of silence passes. Aether can see the gears in Scaramouche’s head turnover the name. And the admittedly-joking ultimatum. If he truly thought the puppet would feel nothing but pain at the name, Aether would have picked something different. But it feels important to pick this one. An acknowledgement of who he is, where he’s from, and what to do from here.
Scaramouche turns away from them, the best he can, wrapped up and injured. From the back of his head, Aether can see his ears turn red at the tips as his shoulders raise. “ –Fine. ”
“Fine, you'll serve Paimon or?”, Aether teases.
“ Fine, as in I’ll kill you first as soon as I’m out of this bed.”, Scaramouche snaps. “I’ll take your ridiculous name. I don’t care.”
“That’s not true. He cares very much.”, Nahida contradicts. In his mind, she sees the same elation from when he held his Vision. A pure kind of joy only ruined by the notion of ‘Gods’ and his dislike for them “He likes the name.”
“I am going to slice you all apart, very, very slowly.”, Scaramouche- No, Makoto’s Vision glows brightly in his hand.
“He definitely likes it.”
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