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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"Your ultimate purpose isn't for me to decide."

Granted, he wants to fight him again, there's no doubt about that. He's made that clear from the moment they saw each other again after the battle under the Akademiya. But that question feels more like a probe from before, a question he's remained unanswered and unwilling to confront.

"All I want is more chances to test my strength against you. Nothing else."

He's lying and he knows it. Childe has always been able to hide his true intentions well, but when it comes to bald-faced lying, he's not the best. It's part of why he prefers to dabble in half-truths when he's weaving webs of deception while completing his tasks as a Fatui Harbinger, and because he personally doesn't care to lie if he doesn't have to. He hopes that Scaramouche just buys it and doesn't press the issue, much like before.

"Now tell me if I need to make adjustments to you, or you'll have to figure out how to fix your own joints."

That answer is complete and utter nonsense. However he looks at it, it seems that nothing is really adding up. For Childe to sacrifice the safety of his family like that. Humans are fond of each others families, just like he himself loved a family once. Hundreds of years ago.

Finally Scaramouche makes a gesture at the man who is busy fixing the holes in his back that he has to stop for a moment. He can see the man taking a small step back, his eyes shifting from what he was doing to Childe.

"Worry not, if everything works accordingly it will be over soon."

So he slowly slides off the bed and moves to stand. His legs seem to carry him without any problem and also his arms are restored to its old 'glory'. After taking a couple of steps he crouches down to pick up the toolbox so he can place it on the bed right next to him.

"I can fix my own joints." Scaramouche stays silent for a moment as he climbs back onto the bed, moving to sit right next so he can sort through the tools. "When they sent me out into the Abyss it is not always possible to return for reparations. You have to do them by yourself." As he speaks he is holding up a variety of tools, inspecting each and every one of them. There's a small hammer, some screwdrivers, pliers and an icepick. "Since you have made the choice to tie my purpose to your absurd thirst for battle..."

He places all the tools on the bed, neatly arranged, quite in a similar way the Doctor would. Yet, he holds on to the icepick. Eventually he scoots a little further on the bed and moves to sit sidewards. For a moment nothing happens. Scaramouche is just sitting there, holding an icepick and looking at Childe with a surprisingly calm look on his face.

"...I hope you have prepared yourself properly. I have never meshed really well with the other Harbringers..."

And suddenly, despite all the damage that is still left on his body, despite the fact that most of his power is gone, he moves swiftly. It is nothing but a blink of an eye. A mere second.

"...but I am sure you have taken emergencies like this into account. You are not that stupid, right?"

Scaramouche is sitting on his knees now, one hand resting on the Fatui agent's shoulder as he jams the icepick into the man's chest a couple of times. Right where the heart is and he knows very well that humans can't live without one.

Something doesn't sit right with him when the puppet picks the toolbox up off the floor and sets it on the bed. He's well aware of what's in there, every tool inside also doubling as a weapon if deemed necessary. He watches Scaramouche like a hawk, wondering what he's going to do. The engineer and him trade glances a few times, silent. Childe doesn't think the former Harbinger is up to any good here, but he doesn't expect what he ends up choosing to do.

The Eleventh's eyes widen when Scaramouche's hand falls onto the shoulder of the Fatui agent, but it's too late. He stabs him not once, but a few times, right in the heart. The agent falls as Childe rushes forward with a hydro blade flashing into one hand, making a grab for the icepick with the other. Rage fills him, the blade coming up to press against Scaramouche's neck before he screams.

"Ulyana! Yaroslav! In here, now!"

He doesn't take his eyes off of Scaramouche for a second, tempted to cut him to shreds right here and now. The puppet's actions are outrageous, and it's taking all of his willpower to keep himself in check and not let his temper get the best of him. The two Fatui rush into the room, seeing their comrade on the floor with their boss at the neck of the other Harbinger.

"Get him out of here now, quickly! He's been stabbed directly in the chest. He won't survive unless you get him to Bimarstan immediately!"

The two obey, moving to grab their now unconscious comrade, while Childe yells at Scaramouche.

"What's the matter with you? He was the only person here with knowledge of how to repair the damage left from the machine! He didn't have anything to do with this, and yet you felt the need to stab him! Determined to make me regret this, are you?"

Scaramouche doesn't move when Childe presses a hydro blade against his throat. He just watches curiously as everything unfolds in front of his eyes. People rushing in, Childe barking commands like a true Harbringer. Eventually he starts to chuckle as well, shoulders shaking lightly as he does.

"Must I spell it out for you, you stupid worm?"

Even though there is a smile on his face, his eyes have a dull gleam to them. In a way he looks tired. Like someone who has given up.

"You're just an idiot who likes the thrill of battles and knows how to follow orders." He takes hold of the others wrist and he can feel the hydro blade shift closer to his throat. "And yes, I will make you regret your choice. If you want to have a personal punching bag, request one. Seek out your strongest men and beat them to a pulp. Stupid as you are, you are still a Harbringer." Scaramouche makes a frustrated sound and for a moment in time he remembers that once, a long time ago, he cherished a wish to live his life like a human did. In a house, somewhere peaceful. How foolish.

"So you can end me here and now or I will make sure you have to end me eventually."

"There was no need to stab him if all you wanted was for me to eliminate you," he says with venom, unwilling to give this man an inch. "What are you going to do now? Stab me? Go ahead, make your move- I'll be more than happy to fight you again, right here, right now."

He's well aware Scaramouche has grabbed a hold of his wrist, in his attempt to try to take the ice pick away from him so he couldn't do any more damage. He's weighing his options now, wondering what route the puppet will take with his blade so dangerously close to slicing his head right off.

"If you think I'm calling your bluff, know that I'm fully aware that you've completely given up and you just might press the matter. I just can't believe after all that, you're given another chance at life and you just want to throw it all away because some human beat you. So if I'm a worm, what does that make you? You want to go to your grave like that?"

Scaramouche doesn't move at all and for a moment he has no idea what to say. There is truly no way he can get through to this idiot. But then again, he also knows there is also nothing to lose. A second fight would end up in a loss. After all, his strength is lost. All that made him even remotely divine has been stripped from him. There is nothing, no purpose, no point to his existence whatsoever.

So when he shifts a little, his hand finds a screwdriver. Maybe a little less sharp than the icepick but still good enough for stabbing.

"Don't flatter yourself." Slowly he moves backwards, letting go of Childe's wrist in the progress. "I would barely call it a chance." And then Scaramouche slides off the bed again and takes his sweet time to walk up to the other, still holding that screwdriver in one hand. "Lets see how this screwdriver fares against your hydro blades."

The chuckle that follows is cold and joyless.

"Lets fight."

Childe's eyes sharpen as Scaramouche lets go of him and moves, picking up the screwdriver now instead. Every single muscle in his body is on springs, ready to move at the drop of a hat. His eyes glance down to the screwdriver in Scaramouche's hand, his expression unimpressed with the makeshift weapon.

"Are you trying to insult me?"

His blade moves with lightning fast precision, the tip of it mere centimeters away from the tool.

"With a flick of my wrist, I could sever that completely off its handle. You won't win. But that's what you want, isn't it? Forget it."

And Childe follows through with what he says- his wrist twists just so to try to cut the metal screwdriver off from the handle, wanting to prove a point. He won't just kill Scaramouche after putting forth all the effort to try to keep him alive, and keep the other Harbingers from discovering him.

"Isn't this what you want? A punching bag?" Scaramouche cocks his head a little, feeling utterly defeated but definitely not behaving like that. "You fight me, I lose, you repair me. Over and over and over again."

When Childe is done with diminishing the length of the screwdriver and there's nothing left but the handle Scaramouche makes it his business to throw it at the other's face with utmost precision.

"Heh..." Such a miserable existence, really. And all he can do is laugh. Because what else is there to do now? Just laugh all the pain away. "And if anyone might find out about your sudden need to ensure my survival your dear Tsaritsa will order her Fatui agents to drag your parents and siblings to her palace and gut them like fish. They are mere humans, no need to bother a Harbinger with such a task."

This time he doesn't move to the bed to pick up another weapon. He walks towards a corner of the room so he can put on his top and cover those miserable holes in his back.

"After all, nothing feeds anger better than betrayal. Trust is such a fragile thing."

And who could know this better than Scaramouche!

Childe's hand comes up so fast to grab the handle as it flies right at his face, chucking it to the ground as hard as he can, not having it from Scaramouche. He's so tired of this defeatist attitude radiating from the puppet, all he wants is for the Eleventh to end his existence, and he won't do it. He refuses to give him what he wants, and he watches Scaramouche pick up his hat, to place it atop his head as he glares daggers at him.

"I assure you Her Majesty doesn't care that much about you. At worst, The Jester may try something- but I can handle him and anyone he sends. But he'll never find out, so it's a non-issue."

Childe wishes Scaramouche didn't have to be so difficult, but from his perspective, Childe is the one who's taken away being able to die after a sound defeat. There's no doubt it stings, but he's finding that they're just going to be at an impasse forever. He can't please everyone here. He's got to find a different way around this.

"Though I'd like to point out, the only person who's been betraying anyone's trust here is you. Stabbing the one I got to fix you, turning your back on the Tsaritsa...you have no room to talk. To the winner goes the spoils, so you need to be quiet and do what I say. You don't get to decide anymore, do you understand?"

"Such empty threats. Of course she doesn't care about me. I think she'd dump me at the Doctor's laboratorium so he can properly dismember me with the intention to not ever put me together. Think of it...I don't feel pain and dying is rather difficult when you aren't made to die. Merely to ensure a god's eternity by taking the role of said god."

Scaramouche chuckles after saying that. Funny, really. Painfully funny.

He is used to putting his hat on the moment he stands up, but it doesn't take long before he takes it off again, tilting his head a little as he registers Childe's words. And in their very special way...they hurt. And he didn't expect that at all.

And after that he realizes how tired he truly is. With everything that is done to him, with everything that is said, his mind always works overtime trying to process his feelings. It always tells him that it justifies anger, that it justifies godhood, that it justifies revenge. Humans are the scum of the earth. His creator deserves all the bad things coming to her. There are three betrayals who warrant all his rage.

"Are you going to tie me down then? Put me in shackles?" Scaramouche's voice sounds awfully neutral when he speaks now. "Leave me to rot in a corner? I am defeated by you, yes, but am not your possession, Tartaglia. And since you refuse to answer the question I asked you before you shut me down I see no reason to accept anything you have to say."

He looks around the room for a moment before he steps towards the other, stopping just right in front of him.

"I will tell you what is going to happen. You either shut me down now, you fight me until you have no other option left than to shut me down, or you let me live and I will make sure you regret that decision. There is nothing I have to lose. Nothing really matters to me. Everything you say holds no ground." Scaramouche shakes his head and finally places a hand on Childe's shoulder. "All Harbingers know of your little attempt in Liyue. You aren't good at scheming. Don't be a fool."

His hand comes up to swat Scaramouche's own off his shoulder after the mention of what happened in Liyue. He's over it, really, but that doesn't mean it still doesn't sting a little when it's brought up. Especially when they all knew he was just a chess piece in the end- one that was moved around and manipulated by the real players.

"Anything I did in Liyue was doomed to fail, as per the greater scheme set up by those deceivers. And it's not that I'm bad at it," he corrects, "I just prefer not to. There's no need when I can get what I want the way I want to do it."

But that's not the point of contention here, his stomach twisting at part of the reason why the puppet has been so difficult. He avoided the question, dodged it twice now. He doesn't want to play that card, or rather, reveal that he's not playing with a full house- he knows Scaramouche will pounce on that, and he's not sure if he can handle it at this juncture. But...

"If I answer your question, will you at least dial back making me regret letting you live? I've got quite a bit of patience, but things are always made easier when everyone's cooperative. And if you lie to me, I won't kill you, oh no- I'll just make sure you can't do anything about your predicament and force you to live out the rest of your days in a display case."

When Childe swats his hand away Scaramouche just chuckles softly. Truly, all this man had was a maddening desire for battle, he was too human and in a way too stupidly kind to ever be able to outsmart his fellow Harbingers.

"No, you just don't have it in you to be a Harbinger." He slowly crosses his arms and gives him a bit of a look and when he speaks there isn't a standard mocking tone to his voice "Your body is not entirely able to handle the foul delusion, not? It damages your bones and muscles. It causes pain beyond belief."

Then he shakes his head.

"Your mind isn't consumed by anger, revenge, greed or anything like that. You just like to battle."

And yes, there is more to this. More than mercy or battles. And he is glad to hear that Childe is finally ready to fess up.

"I won't lie to you. Yet if you imprison me I will tear out the wires by myself." For all the dull looks Childe might have seen on his face, the one Scaramouche is flashing towards him now is bright and somewhat determined. "To exist, to feel like I am worth something, I need a purpose. One that goes beyond that of being your personal punchingbag. That is downright insulting."

Childe isn't sure if he can believe what he's hearing from Scaramouche. To say he's weak, sure. That's something the puppet would say. But...

Did this guy just suggest he was too good to be a Harbinger? It makes him laugh inwardly- he knows that he's no clean soul either, and his deeds would hardly fit a bill of purity. Everything was done in the name of the Tsaritsa, and also to fulfill his selfish desires of endless combat and slaughter. And yet he doesn't know Scaramouche to sugar coat anything...if he says it, it's probably he believes it to be objective fact. Never would he think that anyone besides his mother would tell him something like this.

"Look. I've never viewed you as my personal punching bag, not once. I didn't save you just so I could fight you again."

He doesn't want to say it, he knows all that will happen is he'll get laughed at, called pathetic, even get used by Scaramouche.

"I did it because I couldn't leave you like that."

Tartaglia can't bring himself to explain himself on that front. It was already hard enough admitting to that, and he's already steeled himself for Scaramouche to pounce on him given that information.

"That is barely an answer. I think we have already established that I have been on the receiving end of your mercy." Scaramouche chuckles dryly and if there was a possibility to smile in an absolutely vile way, he's pulling it off right now. "Yet the pity is new to me. If it means anything, you have shown me more kindness than my own creator. Thank you."

That was the big reveal? He couldn't 'leave him like that'? Like what? An empty shell? If anything, Tartaglia should've just given him to the Doctor for parts.

Scaramouche moves to sit on the chair that is next to the bed he has been lying on for so long.

"But tell me more of your plans for me. Are there orders you want me to carry out? Perhaps a visit to the Abyss? It has been a while since I've last been there. Who knows, perhaps I even succeed in finishing some of the beasts off."

It may have been hardly an answer, but it's the only answer he's willing to give so far. It doesn't show on the surface, but underneath he's uncomfortable with even letting that much out. Tartaglia watches Scaramouche like a hawk as he moves, poised to defend himself if the former Harbinger lashes out again, a little annoyed that it seems he's just acting like he's here for the ride. But at the same time, Childe's given Scaramouche no direction, no other thing to go on other than that he'd fix him and fight him. Deep down, he knows this is his own fault, cursing himself inwardly. The one thing that sets him apart from the other Harbingers is proving to be his downfall here, and he doesn't like it.

"I wouldn't mind a little trip to the Abyss. Sounds interesting. But how will I know you aren't going to try to backstab me while we're in there? Not that it'll matter much," he says with a laugh, "because I'll just beat you into submission if you try anything."

Tartaglia lets a wicked smile unfold on his features, meaning every word that he said. Fighting in the Abyss against each other is a terrible idea, but he'll do it, and he won't hesitate.

"However, you'll still need to be fixed fully. I want you to promise me you're not going to attack the one repairing you, or I'll make sure you're turned off during the repairs. Whatever errors happen during that process won't be any of my concern, it'll be your own fault because you couldn't restrain yourself. Good luck surviving in the Abyss like that."

"Then turn me off."

Scaramouche shrugs and leans back in the chair. This entire situation is grating to him beyond belief. Yes, there is the notion of being useful to another person but that's it, really.

"And stop with those empty threats. This is the choice you have made. Every choice has consequences. If I do not stab you in the back, an Abyss beast might kill you. And if an Abyss beast won't kill you, something else will."

But he sees that grin. It's the grin of a battle-thirsty idiot. And Scaramouche is planning to bring that battle-thirsty idiocy out to the fullest. Fierce enough to break things, tear monsters apart and to make sure that it will end Scaramouche himself in the process. A stupid way to end it all, but an end is an end.

"Just turn me into what you want me to be. Travel to the Abyss and perhaps, if you adjust me well, I will praise you for your kindness. If not, I will betray your trust."

And really, that's it. Scaramouche is looking at Childe, the look in his eyes dull and tired.

The Harbinger searches for words of deception in the puppet's speech, but he doesn't find any. Sighing, he resigns to doing this Scaramouche's way, approaching the former Harbinger and looking down on him for a moment in frustration. If only he could just make things easier, but that wouldn't be in his nature, would it? But fine. If he has to play by these rules, he will, if only to move past this impasse they've found themselves at.

"Fine. Next time you wake, you'll be finished and we'll be heading to the Abyss."

The hole in the puppet's chest is still wide open, shoving his hand deep inside of it and pulling the plug once again, catching him before he falls over in the chair. Scaramouche will be put on the bed, asleep for weeks while the engineer rests, and is summoned back by Childe to continue his work- but now with the guarantee that the puppet will not be turned back on until all repairs are done. Childe will make sure to reward him generously, especially after getting stabbed.

-----

When the power is reconnected, Scaramouche will wake up to the sight of Childe personally working on his body, a black streak on his face along with a few streaks on his bare hands as he's doing the final touches. The hole that used to expose the core of the puppet gets covered, sighing now that he feels the job is finally over. The holes that adorned the puppet's back where the tubes had once been are now gone, everything seeming to be in order.

"There. You awake yet? The repairs are all finished."

Even though he isn't aware of anything when being turned off, he does deem it a better state to be in. A state where his thoughts do not haunt him, his hopes do not bother him and his sadness does not hurt him. Its peaceful. Truly, the world is far more peaceful when he isn't a part of it.

Yet, Scaramouche also knows that nothing goes as he would have wanted it. So eventually the world starts to exist around him again, voices get through to his head, the sensation of someone messing with his body. When his eyes crack open there is light at first and when the focus returns he sees a dot of orange hair. Oh yes, as if he could forget. He's Childe's little plaything now.

"As you can see."

His eyes flash purple for a moment, as if something inside of him is being activated. Something that has been broken before.

"Still fond of pointing out the obvious." Slowly he moves to sit up and, really, it is true. He seems to move better. Nothing is creaking or complaining when he bends his limbs.

"The Abyss, was it not?"

It looks like everything is in working order on the puppet's body, Childe now standing up to his full height and wiping his forehead with the back of his arm. Though Scaramouche may not see it yet, he looks so much better now than when he did after their terrible battle, all the dings and the scratches removed and looking almost brand new. He couldn't of asked for a better job from that engineer, and he does hope that the mora he'd given him would be enough to keep him silent for a time. The Lord Harbingers are not people underlings will want to mess with- hopefully the fear of his name and the payment will do the job.

Setting his arms akimbo, he smiles and nods to his former colleague, glad to see he hasn't forgotten for as long as he'd been asleep. Or dead, depending on how one looks at it, but he's choosing to see it in a positive light instead for now, to counter the oncoming negativity that he's sure Scaramouche was going to exude in one way or another.

"That's right. It just so happens that intel was able to find a Abyss Order camp outside of Sumeru City a ways- we can use that as our point in. You looking forward to it? Because I am."

Just the thought alone of slaughtering Abyss creatures has got him pumped and ready to go. He looks excited like he could head out right now and go crush everything in their path.

"And since I still can't quite trust you to behave, I figured we would go right away, so I can keep an eye on you. I can't have you ripping through my men, after all, and you've hardly proven that you're capable of controlling yourself."

"Then the Abyss it is..."

Scaramouche scoots to the side of the bed and moves to stand on his feet. Yes, his body functions way better than before. Yet he still feels as empty as ever.

"No. I do not." He shuffles around the room until he has found the clothes that cover his upper body. "You know of my opinion about this entire situation, idiot. That hasn't changed. But if I can be of use, I will take that as it is."

The prospect of battle doesn't excite him at all. In the early days every victory would mean a step closer to becoming stronger, but now...nothing really matters.

"Stop speaking to me if I am some child." Scaramouche picks up his hat. "If you don't want me to rip through your men, give me a reason to not do so." Then he pauses so he can put his hat on. "I might just want to test my strength before we return to that wretched place."

Childe's arms fold over his chest as he watches, unimpressed with the answer given to him, but happy that Scaramouche seems to be willing to go nonetheless. When the puppet seems to be ready to go, his arms unfold as he walks to the door, expecting him to leave first- he's not going to leave his back open to the guy after what he's pulled so far since being brought to this safehouse in Sumeru City.

"Or, you could stop acting like a sore loser and not involving anyone else who doesn't deserve it," he retorts, "if you're going to attack someone, then make it me- I'm the one responsible, remember?"

Childe's annoyance is clear, but it wouldn't be surprising to him if that's what Scaramouche wanted to do in the first place.

"So I'll be more than happy to let you test your strength out...on me," he says sternly.

Really Childe, this is all the concequences of your actions. He hears the clear tone of annoyance in the other's voice and all he can do is shrug.

"What are you going to do when I attack others? What will my punishment be?" As they start to walk Scaramouche looks over his shoulder, well aware of the fact he's asking annoying questions for the sake of being annoying. "After all, we have already established that I will serve as some sort of punching bag, not?"

But, to be fair, its good to be outside again. To be surrounded with nature. The only problem is that there's an idiot at his side.

"Ah, Tartaglia." Now he does turn, walking backwards for a moment so he could look at said idiot. "Do not talk to me as if I am a child. Agreement or not, you are nothing but a mere insect in my eyes. Do not make me repeat this for a third time."

For a short moment there's a purple flicker visible in his eyes. Nothing but a spark and its very brief, but it is there. The idea of fighting in the Abyss doesn't do anything for him. There are monsters, they are beyond powerful, Childe is stupid and he has been given the most stupid chance on a second sort of life.... Without his permission.

"I take it you know the way."

He's not sure what he saw in Scaramouche's eyes just now, but something was there. Maybe, it's just the arrogance of a fallen "god" who's sore that his ascension was cut short, maybe there's still a spark of life within him that's just waiting to be relit by something else. Either way, he's not entirely sure, and he's not going to think about it too much or too hard. It's not worth the effort, especially since he's already defeated as it is. So Childe simply directs Scaramouche in the direction towards the camp, walking past Corps of Thirty guards right through the front gate, with none of them any wiser to who exactly passes by them in the moment.

"It's not far from here- I'll give you a little brief on the camp before we arrive."

Standard for any sort of Fatui operation of course, as Tartaglia recounts the reports he'd gotten from his men stationed around Sumeru.

"It's not large, only housing a few mages. No other creatures of the Abyss have been spotted, but they've certainly done a good job in attracting more hilichurls to help them with whatever plan they've got brewing over there. Naturally, we're not entirely sure what they're after, all we know is that they've been sending some hilichurls under their influence over towards the cliff near Gandharva Ville.

They must not want to make it a big deal, or they'd of amassed more manpower...so I wonder if there's another set up on the other side of those portals they use. It would be more efficient to base operations right inside, since no one can easily get into the Abyss...or out of it."

And their plan, get inside of one of those portals so they can find the base, kill anything in it, and maybe even find out what the plans are of the Abyss Order. He doesn't feel as if he needs to explain it, he's sure Scaramouche already understands.

But Scaramouche definitely felt that. That spark, that little jolt of power surging through the parts of his body. While Childe leads the way towards a possible Abyss hideout, his focus is mainly on his hands and at times he touches his face.

"Hmm...it seems you are answering your own question, not? If it would have been an entrance to the Abyss itself they would have bring stronger monsters." Perhaps some of those wolves, or an Abyss Lector. "But lets find out. I am curious to see if you're still that weak."

He flashes Childe a sly smile.

"Heh, you do know your presence is quite unfortunate when it comes to the collective strength of the Fatui Harbingers, not?"

"You've got some nerve."

He shoots that back at Scaramouche, clearly unimpressed with his attempt at an insult. But Childe's ego isn't easily damaged, and he lets that grumble along with the disapproval of all the rest of the Harbingers roll off his back like water from a duck's feathers. All that matters to him is being able to serve the Tsaritsa, and the rest of them could go die off in an unknown corner of the world for all he cared.

"If I can beat a so-called god, then I can take on anything the Abyss throws at me. Don't forget who the merciful one was here."

It's not terribly far to the spot where the reports came from, walking along the path outside the city towards Gandharva Ville. The rainforest crops up around them the farther they wander, Childe focusing now more on their task, but still wary of Scaramouche and any possible traitorous actions he might take.

"So I'm not going to take that from you. My spot was well earned among the Harbingers, whether you like it or not. Perhaps it's better to look at it to see if you're the one who can hold up in there."

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I AM SORRY HE IS BEING SUPER DIFFICULT

LOL IT'S OK

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i'm gunna timeskip to waking our lil disaster puppet up lolol

DISASTER PUPPET :"D

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RETURNS 2 MONTHS LATER, SHAMELESSLY

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