littlesilhouettoofaman | The Brightest Things Fade The Fastest

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The Brightest Things Fade The Fastest

First they were nothing but echoes, noises without a source or purpose, just something he could blame on the battle he just lost. But echoes changed into soft voices and footsteps and eventually he could even hear the sound of rain outside.
And his body did not hurt after the fall he made, it is merely a familiar sort of uncomfortable sensation of joints popped out of place and cracks that shouldn’t be there. But he had expected to be beyond angry, to feel that rage surge through him, that sense of absolute frustration and that undying desire to serve a certain purpose, that certain purpose. But surprisingly enough there was nothing for now. Just a dreadful, heavy emptiness.

Of course he remembered everything. How could he forget it? Yet another setback. He had been so close to fulfilling his birthright and then that idiot… Oh, yes, the idiot. That buffoon who ranked way lower than him and had the audacity to stand up to a god. And had the audacity to win.

The room is quite dark and when he opens his eyes he can see a couple of figures standing close and half of his mind expects to see the Doctor standing between all of them. But he is nowhere to be seen.

“Get out.”

Did they all come to look at a fallen god? Because seriously, who’d given them the right to do so? So when he repeats the words for a second time they are louder and a lot more threatening.

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Well, Childe is the one who moves, he himself follows him slowly, as if he is taking a stroll instead of taking part in a battle. He registers the laughter coming from the other, yet he finds himself distracted with whatever is happening inside his own body.

"Its finishing up..." Scaramouche mutters to himself, staring at his hands as he's being very aware of these constant adjustments inside of him. When he looks up again he finds himself somewhat torn. He could finish that Herald off. They're tough but he's done that before and maybe now, he might be able to do it again. But what if he could just free himself from the idiot's presence by killing him instead?

"Ah...Childe." He moves to sit down on a log of wood. "I do not think I am able to defeat that thing. Why don't you show me how it's done?"

His blades sing in the light that shines down from the sun, tearing apart a minion that emerges from the portal with ease as he focuses mainly on the herald that's spit some kind of curse at him already. But he can see how Scaramouche just decides to sit this out, leaving him to fend off the Abyss alone. He should of expected this, and in fact it wouldn't surprise him if betrayal was on the horizon here. But he won't get all that tired from fighting the herald, moving expertly to block and counter his opponent.

He's fought plenty of heralds himself, and that was when he was a kid...

"Oh? I should have known you wouldn't be able to handle it."

He taunts the puppet, but he knows that those words would just bounce off of him as if they never existed at all. But it's fine by him, seemingly unbothered by his partner's lack of effort.

"Don't worry, I'll be done here in a few more moments."

Seemingly agitated by their banter, the herald charges in, but Childe is ready for it, easily parrying and coming in with his own counters until it finally receives the final blow, melting out of existence with a hydro blade stuck straight in its chest.

Indeed, Childe's words don't do anything.

"Blame it on your bad repairs." Scaramouche shrugs, yet there's a hint of a smile around his lips as he does. "I don't see any other reason why my body feels as weak and feeble as it does now."

And while Childe continues with doing what he does best, Scaramouche busies himself with gazing at tiny sparks that appear between his fingers. It doesn't feel solid yet, not as sure as his strength used to be. He figure it is part of who he is, of the part that still can be considered 'divine'.

"Hmm...when you are done..." Slowly he moves to stand. "...Should we spar a little?"

Any other enemies that emerge from the portal are easily dispatched by the Harbinger, very clearly enjoying himself among the chaos. Though, it catches him a little off-guard when Scaramouche suggests to spar, dismissing his blades as soon as the last of the Abyss emerges through the portal. He looks over to the puppet, raising an eyebrow.

"You didn't want to take part in the battle, and now you want to spar? What's up with that?"

Not that he'd ever turn down a fight, but this seems a little fishy. He doesn't feel worn out from the fight, so it doesn't feel as if this is exactly opportune for Scaramouche to take advantage of.

"You know I won't shy away from a battle, but why the sudden change of heart, Scaramouche?"

The questions annoy him.

"I don't care for those creatures." Really, Scaramouche has beat up a lot of them in the past. "I think it would be more interesting to spar with you instead."

He cocks his head a little to the right and a small and rather sly smile appears around his lips. "Isn't this what you wanted, Childe? A punching bag, for yourself to use?" The smile broadens a little as he approaches the taller man and this time the purple flicker in his eyes stay, clear for the other to see.

"Come at me."

"Heh."

The puppet approaches him boldly, and he doesn't back down, staring downward to see that flash of purple. Seems Scaramouche still has a bit of power left in him...and to think he was just accusing him of doing a bad job at repairing him. A wicked smile flashes across his features, glad to see that the other has retained some of his former power.

That makes things interesting for him. He won't complain.

"If you say so. Let's test out your newly repaired body now that our battlefield is now laid bare for us to use as we please."

Readying his blades in his hand, he doesn't waste time by striking at Scaramouche's chest to start- a blow that he feels should be easily dodged or parried. Every move he makes is effortless, yet tactical, not stopping just at that single swipe. He wants to see what his partner here is made of in his defeat.

"Let's see if you can still amuse me."

And here he was, thinking he had lost everything. His purpose, his strength, his divinity. But it seems that, for once, he has been lucky.

"Ah, you are so full of it." The laugh that comes from Scaramouche's mouth has a sinister ring to it. "Thinking you can own me as if I was some sort of toy."

Something inside of him seems to be buzzing, reviving everything inside of him he deemed lost. And the best thing of all is that he loves it, he absolutely basks in it. So the second Childe lunges himself at him he starts to cackle.

"I am not here for your amusement, worm!"

He dodges the blow easily. And the one that follows gets dodged as well. With every move Scaramouche makes there's the sound of electricity crackling, sparks emitting from his hands, his eyes glowing with a bright purple. Childe might be able to see how uncanny his speed is and eventually Scaramouche halts one of his waterblades by simply grabbing hold of it.

"I hope you are aware of the fact that water conducts electricity."

Childe wasn't sure what to expect. He's delighted in the fact that Scaramouche seems to have regained some of his strength, and that means he's in for a good fight.

As his opponent dodges and seems to revive his lost power, it only serves to make Tartaglia more and more excited. His eyes widen wildly, his moves reflect a joy in the pure rush of fighting someone strong. He's not careless in his movements, but ultimately, he's happy- for more reasons than one, but here, he's concentrated on the adrenaline rush that comes with combat.

When his blade is grabbed, he only grins.

"I am. Go ahead and do your worst..."

Electricity crackles up around Childe as well- his delusion's power seeps into his body, prepared to take whatever Scaramouche is going to dish out.

"...but I won't let you get me that easily, hahaha..."

He dismisses his blades, the water suddenly disappearing out of the puppet's hand as he follows up with a southpaw punch just to separate the two of them from this deadlock.

Now Scaramouche didn't see battle the way Childe did. Of coure, its quite nice to put a worm in their place or to obliterate some monster completely. It made him feel strong, powerful and just a little closer to becoming the god he was destined to be. But its obvious that, for Childe, battle is something incredibly pleasant. Truly, the look on the other's face is something different alltogether.

And, to be fair, Childe's unbridled joy is somewhat addictive. So when the other starts to laugh he chuckles in return. And when electricity starts to crackle around him the chuckle changes into laughter.

"Perhaps that is even better. I dislike being bored."

Scaramouche dodges the punch easily and starts to laugh again. Anyone with a good set of working ears can hear that the sound of his laughter is everything but sane. But then again, Scaramouche would never deny the fact that he isn't entirely right in the head.

"Time for you to suffer the consequences of your actions!" He spreads his arms in a dramatic fashion, absolutely reveling in the fact his strength has been returned to him "Amuse me!"

After uttering those words he unleashes a significant amount of electricity. Sparks fly from his hands, from the ground and even the sky seems to grow darker. Truly, in a way it is laughable, ironic and spectacular that whatever gods are willing to show him mercy like this.

The power that races and crackles in the air from Scaramouche is no less than exhilarating, though Childe does also realize that this fight just got a whole lot more serious than it was maybe a few seconds ago. No doubt the puppet would seek revenge against him for knocking him down from his perch, and on top of it to show him mercy afterward- so he'll take this as seriously as it's been presented. He's thankful for the fact that out of all the delusions he could have received, his was electro, so at least he's got some sort of defense against that element. But as for what other divine powers Scaramouche has at his fingertips right now, he's not sure, but he'll be glad to find out as they fight.

He wouldn't want his opponent to hold back, after all.

The Harbinger is more than happy to meet that diabolical, unhinged laughter with an attack of his own, more than willing to give the puppet what he wants, some entertainment. It's unfortunate that his electro power won't have any effect on the guy, so he takes the chance to summon his hydro blades once more to go in and begin his assault anew, relying on the gift from the Tsaritsa to mitigate the electricity he's no doubt about to take.

"It's about time you showed me that hidden power! Hahahaha, be careful what you wish for, Scaramouche-!"

He puts everything into his attacks, like a renewed fire has been lit inside of him for this fight. Nothing could be more fun, more intense or more desired than throwing himself against one who was once nearly a complete god, and the greatest part about it is that he gets to do it again.

Scaramouche remembers what Signora once told him. That the only reason for his position as the Sixth of the Harbingers is the abuse he can take. And, in a way, she isn't wrong. He has always been hard to kill and Dottore has never been kind when it came to the repairs and adjustments he did. There always has been a certain madness to it, but then again, he himself is far from sane as well.

He cackles.

Like the reckless idiot Childe is, he comes at him with full strength, not holding back one bit. And Scaramouche knows that he has lost earlier. That he has been the one who has suffered defeat.

"This time I am the one who will be victorious!"

So when Childe lashes out he quickly avoids the blows while electricity keeps crackling around him. To say Scaramouche is very profound with a sword, not really. Yet, he knows his moves and the sword-shaped mass of electricity he is summoning in one of his hand is perfectly capable of fending off Childe's hydro blades.

"I wouldn't be so confident, hahaha! I took you down once, and I'll do it again...!"

The weapon that Scaramouche summons is no doubt a manifestation of his abilities as a divine instrument of the Electro Archon, but that doesn't matter to him in the slightest. It could be any element, it could of been something from the depths of the Abyss and he'd still meet it with glee as his swords clash with his. Hydro and Electro sizzle and crackle all around the two, but it doesn't deter the Harbinger in the slightest. If anything, the sounds of battle only serve to excite him more, Childe's eyes gleaming with bloodlust as his attacks continue.

"Don't tell me this is the extent of your power. I'm not even using my full strength here. You shouldn't of taken me on so soon."

His attacks are fluid like the water he commands, his weapons changing from blades to his polearm and back, coming at his opponent with all he's got. His mind is totally focused on Scaramouche and the battle they're having, the rest of the world melting away and not mattering to him at all. This is what he lives for, this is what he'll die doing if he can help it.

If Scaramouche were a sane person, he would admit that Childe was a formidable opponent. In fact, he'd even tell him. Yet, he has never been sane. The more the anger festered inside of him, the crazier he became. And even now, now he had this odd second chance, now he is without that gnosis he holds so dear, it is all he can focus on.

Anger, this urge to destroy, this hunger to make someone suffer.

"Transform. Now let me see your true form. The one they fear so much."

Normally Scaramouche would have been speaking loudly but this time Childe can hear the words buzzing in his mind. If he would fail to defeat the other, it would at least mean an end to all of this.

And while convincing the other to use more strength he easily hops around, avoiding those attacks with more and more ease.

"This is barely a challenge."

He's so focused on their fight that at first, he doesn't recognize that the words from Scaramouche aren't coming from his mouth, but rather directly to his mind. His eyes widen with delight, the smile on his face wider and more unhinged. He's asking for him to really, truly go all out- and there's nothing he'd like to do more than to grant this wish for his companion.

"So you're ready to be defeated so soon? Alright. I won't keep you waiting."

Skidding to a stop as he puts some distance between himself and Scaramouche, Childe begins his transformation without hesitation. Electricity and water spike outwards and splash around him, the power from beyond the stars swirling around him as it shakes the very foundation of the ground beneath their feet.

The dark armor, the Demon King's Armament begins to clasp itself to his arms and legs, changing his body to something a little less human, power surging outwards that threatens to knock over lesser beings. As it completes, a surge of dark energy radiates out from his core, bearing the weapon that showcases the very stars that circle Teyvat- and he stands up to his full height, staring down at his opponent.

D̝͇̻o̝͙̪n̢̝͉'͎͜t̞̼̝ d͉̟͖i̺̟̘s̫͕̼a̠͙͙p̢͖͉p͙̙͜o̦͎i̟͇͕n͎͍̘t̟̻ m̢̞̝e̞̪̦.̪̙̻

Edited (i messed up loool) 2023-12-01 00:24 (UTC)

Oh, this idiot is so reckless. So willing to destroy himself for the sake of battle and, in some strange, small corner in his mind, Scaramouche can appreciate that. Didn't he himself destroyed himself because he wanted to become a god? And still...whatever stood above godhood, listened and granted him this second chance.

And what is better than to face the biggest worm on the surface of this realm head on? Scaramouche watched the transformation with a somewhat deranged look on his face. As if it is the most amusing thing he has ever seen.

"Just keep it up."

Something inside of him starts to whirr, as if it knows that the stakes are a bit bigger now. Now Scaramouche knows he isn't into battle like Childe is. It doesn't fuel him, it doesn't serve as a purpose. It is a mere part of what he used to do. Just like killing. Just like retrieving something from somewhere.

But now he has to keep up. Now he has to pay attention. And he chuckles briefly before he disappears into a purple flash, focusing every bit of his being on that new strength.

A low, deep rumble of a laugh that sounds more alien than human comes from Childe's form, quiet and wicked. He knows he'll enjoy every second of the fight, now that the gloves are off and he's ready to throw himself completely into the fire of battle. No matter what feelings he has, no matter their allegiance, all of it falls to the wayside as he meets Scaramouche head on as he launches his attack, feeling more alive than he has in days since their last clash underneath Sumeru City.

His blades sing and whistle through the air as they fight, letting loose mixed elemental attacks whenever he sees an opening or opportunity, and getting hit in return when the other finds that Childe's momentarily let himself open for a strike. But all of it is just a part of the fight, and no matter how much he hits or gets hit, he loves it.

"A̟͇͙t͉̠̺ l̡͉͉e̡͓̙a̢̙͕s̟̻͜t̞̦͓ y̙͇̻o̡̪̦u̻̫̻'͙̞̝r̠̞e̡̡͕ p̢͉̠r̘͔͇o̠̙̘v͎͚͕i̻̼̺n̠̦͜g̺͚͉ t̺͚̪o͓͇͔ b̫͓̫e̠̼̠ f̢̠͙a̡̦̻r̡͓̞ m͚͓͜o̢͚͚r̦͙͖e̢͙͓ e̡͓͇n̻͎̫t̠͉̻e̡͓̞r̝͉̘t̫͍a͍̼͜i̦̘n̢̞i̞̞͔n̞͚̪g̡̻ t͙͉̟h͓̺͜a͚͔͎n̦̪͉ t͔͎̼h̻̫͉o̟̺͚s̺̞̦e͉̫͔ p̢͔͙a̢͙̺t͓̺̞h̡̻͙e̢̠t͎̠͙i̢͕͓c̞͙͉ m̡̫̫a͓͓͚g͉͜e̢͇s͇̻̟ o̡͔͕f̪͇͔ t̺͕͙h͔̠e̡̼͔ a͕̞͓b̙̝̟y͕̻͎s͉̫̺s͍͉͎-͕͖̝!̢̞̻"

What should have been a little skirmish between a Harbinger and a former Harbinger is slowly changing into something bigger. Something that makes the earth rumble and something that causes trees to give in. The strength they possess is in no way human.

Childe's words make Scaramouche laugh. And, truly, there is nothing sane about the laugh that comes from his mouth. All he can think of is a sweetest sort of revenge. And it fuels him more than anything has ever done before. Oh, how could he forget how overwhelming anger could be, what an amazing weapon.

"That is not how you talk to me." The tone of his voice is a completely unhinged. "Worms belong on the ground. Squirming helplessly, praying their god will know mercy!"

Scaramouche can feel something building up inside of him. Something great, something that is worthy of his godly status. Something meant to destroy.

All Childe has to do is parring his blows. It would only be a matter of time until he will be close enough. Then this unsightly creature will know the true wrath of a god.

It doesn't make a single difference to him how Scaramouche is taking this battle, as long as he fights with all his might. There isn't a single thing that could deter Childe now from cutting him down here, and once he does, he'll repair him again and they can go at it as many times as they see fit. He sees now why Dottore liked Scaramouche so much, you can do anything to him, absolutely anything, and he can come back just like that with a little proper care. It was never his intention for it to be this way, however, but as locked in a battle as they are now, this seems like the likely ending as far as he's concerned.

"W͓̙̙h͉̝͓a͓̘t̡̼̫ g͖̺͉o̡̦̻d͔̼̘?͍̠̻ I̪͖͜ s̢͉̙e̘̟͕e͓̙͕ n͚͔̙o̡̠͖ g̻͚͉o͎͎͇d͚͖̠ h̫̪͉e͉͇̫r̫̟e͎̝.̺̞͕ O͉͕̫n̺̘̫l̦̞y̡̻̝ a̢̫͉ f̙̺̻a͎͖l͉͙̝l̦͖e͇̺n̠̞͍ i̘͎̘d͚̪͖o̞͖̠l̦͖̫ w̟̟h̝͕o̡̺͖ n̡̢̙e͙̻͜v̘̝͜e̝̫͖r͇͔͜ h͚͇̙a̙̠͖d͕̠ a̘̪̘ s͓̻̪h̝͍̫r̡͇e͓̟̝d͖͙̞ o͕͇͙f̢̢͓ t͉͉͜r̢̝̺u̙͕̺e͕̻͜ p̪͚͔o͉͚̪w̘͜e̫̦͎r̫̙̠ t͇̟̞o̢͓͖ b̫̻̝e̙̻͚g̪͍̠i̼͍͇n̦̞̫ w̦͍̝i̙͕͜t̼̪͜h̢̟͇!̢̻͜"

Tartaglia's attacks are unrelenting, he won't give the puppet even an inch in this fight. He can't, because if he does, he loses and it may even mean the end of his life. But he made a promise, to his family and to the traveler that he'd do everything he could to stay alive. And he won't fall to this either, not if he's still moving and breathing.

In a way he starts to understand now. What it means to lose yourself in a battle, to balance right between victory or defeat and the thrill that comes with it. If he had a heart he's sure it would be beating fast. And this foolish human, this absolute idiot, the lowest of worms doesn't give in. Not an inch.

Would Childe notice how the sky turns dark? Would he hear the sound of thunder rolling through thick clouds?

"You're wrong, filthy insect."

Suddenly everything inside of him comes to a halt and really, there's no sanity left inside of Scaramouche's head that could keep him from doing this. All there is, is an urge to destroy and to assure that this insolent little worm will know his place. He has stopped blocking Childe's attacks, his body has made it quite clear it doesn't need protection anymore. Divinity will be its shield now.

And then lightning strikes around them. The sheer force of them make the ground shake. The second Childe attacks again, Scaramouche unleashes all that has been building up inside of him. Something ancient, something that doesn't belong to a world inhabited by fragile humans.

"Behold!" Scaramouche shouts before he starts to laugh. "This is what happens to those who defy a god!"

Edited (its done now) 2024-01-09 09:50 (UTC)

The sudden change in weather doesn't go unnoticed by Childe, and yet there's nothing he can do to stop it. All he can do is continue his fight, launching devastating blow after devastating blow at Scaramouche. He doesn't like how this is going, how his opponent isn't even trying to block his attacks. His celestial blade leaves deep cuts on the mechanical body of the former Harbinger, his abyssal energy that comes from beyond this world not enough to keep whatever is happening from occurring. It's like the whole world is starting to fall apart, and Childe goes in for one last strike that will hopefully quell the lightning that streaks down from the sky nearby with a deafening clap.

And from that last strike, Scaramouche catches him, a power he hadn't seen before nor knew he even had emerging from his body, like a laser that strikes him hard and cuts through his dark armor, sending him flying. Everything goes sideways, his body limp as it flies through the air, slamming into the ground to send chunks of earth flying every which way. Childe isn't sure when he stops, the pain radiating through his body almost seems to numb him. He can't move a muscle, barely has the strength to groan, and isn't even sure how long he's been on the ground when he comes back to his senses.

The fallen Harbinger blearily looks around for his opponent, alarm bells ringing in his head that this could be it if he doesn't move, but he can't. Whatever hit him wrecked his body, and he's having a hard time focusing, looking all around for Scaramouche and where he is...

The strength that surges through him is something else. Something mere humans cannot comprehend. Something all-consuming and all-powerful. So very fitting for the god he really is. Yet, after unleashing it, Scaramouche is very aware of how it wrecks his body. How nerve endings burn and wires snap.

So the second he manages to send Childe backwards he has no time to finish the job. Even though every part of his being wants to stomp Childe's stupid head into the ground until there would nothing left but mush, Scaramouche slumps against a nearby tree.

Of course, Scaramouche keeps a close eye on Childe and eventually he finds himself convinced that the other is dead. Slowly he moves to stand on his feet, unaware of the the fact that an obvious crack has appeared on his face, running from his brow, to his cheek and down his neck.

"I have had worse."

And then he notices that Childe seems to be alive. The movements are small but visible.

'Oh? You still live, worm?

Scaramouche isn't speaking this time but Childe should hear the words.

'What does it take to kill you?'

Through his bleary eyes, he can see movement from a tree, when his vision begins to focus. The lean stature of Scaramouche stands before him, a little ways off but too close for comfort. He's a sitting duck, he can't move a single muscle in his body. And to make matters worse, his opponent is still able to speak, where his mind is a muddied mess. The words enter into his mind, and all Childe is able to do is groan in response.

'I...have to...get up...'

It's the only thoughts Childe is able to have, ones that Scaramouche can hear, trying desperately again to move and failing. If he can't get up soon, who knows what will happen to him. Blood obscures his vision as it drips down into his eyes beneath the mask of the Foul Legacy Transformation, and panic sets in his chest that he desperately tries to fight down.

'Got to...move...'

'So desperate'

Scaramouche comes closer and, to be fair, there's not one single thought inside his head that is a sane one. There's just an immense urge to be the absolute awful person he can be.

'Is that panic?'

Now he did not expect that Childe could be like this. From what he knows, the 11th is quite fearless. Stupid, rash and absolutely not afraid to die. Well, it seems he was wrong.

"Beg, little insect. If you wish to live I want to see you grovel."

The words ring in his head, sounding like a predator zeroing in on their prey. The panic in his chest rises a little more at being called out so blatantly. He's promised to do everything he can to keep himself alive, to see his family. To see the Traveler. To keep them in his sight and him in theirs.

And yet, he can't move.

"͍̫͍N̫͙̞e͇͔̠v̙̘͉.͕͖.̡̻͙e̦̟͓r͙͎͇.̠̫̝"͙͔̦

The wracking cough that comes out from his response is filled with blood, looking up defiantly at his opponent despite how much panic he feels.

"̼͔͍T̝̠̙h̪̼̼i̡͉̠s̙̙̟.̞͔͍.͖̞̼.̘͔̠i͙͕͖s͇̞͕.͙̦͙.̡͓̺.̪͜n͕͓͕'̠͍͇t̢̠͕ o̢̝̦v͔̝͙e̙͇͓r̙͎͙.͍͕͇"̝̘

Edited 2024-03-12 17:08 (UTC)

There's so much panic. And yet, so much resistance as well. This is the type of idiot who would never accept death. And really, Scaramouche can't help basking in it. The sweetest victory there is.

"It is."

Scaramouche moves slowly, ignoring the damage done to his own body. He has had worse. After all, the Doctor has never been particularly gentle and well, when chasing strength there are sacrifices that need to be made. All in all, a fair exchange.

For a moment Childe can hear nothing. No voice in his head, no footsteps. Until there is a certain weight settling on top of him and if he might look up he is looking straight at Scaramouche's face, hovering close to his.

"I could end your suffering. Swift and painless. After all, you did put up a good fight." But there's so much panic inside the other. "But there are some things I want to find out first."

Truly, there is nothing on Scaramouche's face that looks sane. De grin around his lips is absolutely malicious and anyone can see he's getting so much pleasure out of this. Slowly he reaches out, removing some of Childe's armor as if he has all the time in the world. And then he slides his hands around the other's neck, squeezing slightly.

And there's one word Childe might hear, ringing inside his head.

"Beg"

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OKAY WRITING DRAMATIC SCARAMOUCHE HAS BEEN MY BIGGEST WISH EVER

LOL I'M HAPPY I COULD GIVE THAT OPPORTUNITY TO YOU

IT IS MY NO. 1 DREAM /WHIPS OUT THE SILLY ICONS AND SILLY POWERS

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He's gonna fire his lazer :o)

lazermouche

scarabeam activated

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I AM SORRY FOR WHAT HE IS GOING TO DO