Really, Scaramouche could end everything in the blink of an eye. But, alas, he isn't forgiving and he isn't kind either. He knows very well what he has become and, to be fair, he likes to bask in it. What is a mere human in the eye of a god? Nothing but disposable garbage. Fragile and useless.
Slowly he moves back, letting go of the other Harbinger's throat in the process. For a moment he stays silent, his hands resting on Childe's chest while the look on his face is perfectly neutral. He tilts his head a little when he hears thunder rumbling in the distance. It sounds like a reassurance of some sort. Permission, maybe.
"Let me see your face."
Without any further ado he hooks his fingers around Childe's mask and slowly lifts it. Because there is something there inside of the other. Hidden deep. He wants to uncover it, see what it is.
'If that is the choice you wish to make... Worry not, I can be quite a benevolent god.'
Scaramouche wonders if Childe can feel it. A certain pressure, a sweet, reassuring whisper that there might be some blood. And really Childe free to wrap his own hands around his throat.
OKAY I HOPE I WRITE THIS RIGHT DFDF
Really, Scaramouche could end everything in the blink of an eye. But, alas, he isn't forgiving and he isn't kind either. He knows very well what he has become and, to be fair, he likes to bask in it. What is a mere human in the eye of a god? Nothing but disposable garbage. Fragile and useless.
Slowly he moves back, letting go of the other Harbinger's throat in the process. For a moment he stays silent, his hands resting on Childe's chest while the look on his face is perfectly neutral. He tilts his head a little when he hears thunder rumbling in the distance. It sounds like a reassurance of some sort. Permission, maybe.
"Let me see your face."
Without any further ado he hooks his fingers around Childe's mask and slowly lifts it. Because there is something there inside of the other. Hidden deep. He wants to uncover it, see what it is.
'If that is the choice you wish to make... Worry not, I can be quite a benevolent god.'
Scaramouche wonders if Childe can feel it. A certain pressure, a sweet, reassuring whisper that there might be some blood. And really Childe free to wrap his own hands around his throat.