Chapter Text
Tender fingers tilted the puppet’s face back down, wiping away the rest of the tears that still escaped out of his eyes. Tighnari gave Scaramouche a proud smile, initiating contact for the last time with a ruffle of his hair, before moving away.
“I talked to Cyno, he’d still like to speak to you today - but if you aren’t up for it, I can convince him to come back another day.” The Valuka Shuna said this so casually, like Scaramouche hadn’t been sobbing into his chest for the last half an hour.
He gave Tighnari a wet scoff, “‘Course I’m up for it.”
“If you’re sure?”
He was sure.
In the days following Tighnari’s offer to stay, the atmosphere was filled with underlying tension. Except that Scaramouche seemed to be the only person in the vicinity that was feeling the tension.
He stuck out like a sore thumb among the close-knit group that were the residents of Gandharva Ville. Scaramouche would hate to admit he’d been spending most of his time silently shadowing Tighnari, using the man as a living wall between himself and the curious still-strangers that kept trying to talk to him. Uncomfortably following the Forest Watcher around, however, was still better than sitting inside and doing nothing.
As always, and now that he was able, Scaramouche found ways he could be of use to Tighnari. The Valuka Shuna was kind enough not to bring attention to the obvious need the puppet had to be doing something - that topic had already been touched on in their conversation the day before.
So, Scaramouche helped Tighnari with small tasks when he was asked - but was never the one to offer…verbally at least. The curiosity from the other Forest Rangers and Forest Watchers was unnerving and annoying. When he found himself overwhelmed by the attention he would escape to the higher branches of the tree that Tighnari’s hut was built into. From there, he could safely observe Tighnari without being harassed by the more social humans in the area.
Collei kept coming and talking to him. Daily. Sometimes several times a day. Her awkwardness and lack of social grace annoyed Scaramouche to no end as she filled his silence with ramblings about her day. The conversations were mostly one-sided, and Scaramouche kept having to repress the sneers and cruel laughter that wanted to make its way onto his face and out of his mouth when she ran out of things to say - anxiety radiating off of her as she picked at her fingers.
For some bizarre reason, it pained him to upset the girl. It wasn’t like it was his job to make her happy. So he repressed those sneers, and if she was ever put off by the flat expression that sat on his face, she never mentioned it.
That first night, Scaramouche had spent most of the time sitting in the corner of the hut on the floor - knees pulled up to his chest. The position gave him a full view of the entire space and its openings. It also gave him a view of Tighnari - who had returned to sleeping in his own bed, now that the puppet no longer needed it.
He sat quietly, not wishing to disturb Tighnari’s sleep - but not really wanting to leave either. If he left, he would come back to an empty home. Or maybe he’d come back and Tighnari wouldn’t be laying down sleeping, but laying down dead and stiff.
Darkness had a way of bringing your fears and anxieties out of the depths of your mind, and Scaramouche spent the rest of the night staring unblinking at the rise and fall of the Forest Watchers side. Sometimes his focus waned as shadowed objects turned into reaching hands, as a stream of moonlight turned tools into an unforgiving scalpel - already stained with his faux blood.
Every time the puppet snapped out of it, he’d realize he was meant to be making sure Tighnari was there and really real. He’d creep to the edge of the Valuka Shuna’s bed, reaching out a hand to feel for himself that the breaths he was hearing and seeing were real. But everytime, Scaramouche stopped himself - pulling his hand back and retreating back to his corner.
He alternated between rocking himself and sitting unnaturally still for the rest of the night - refusing to blink or breath - lest he miss something.
The puppet didn’t plan on telling Tighnari about this.
It had been centuries since Scaramouche had last participated in the mundanities that filled most humans day-to-day lives. But here the puppet found himself, joining Tighnari on his patrols and sitting with Collei as she worked on that day’s homework. They invited him to join them at mealtime - even as he groused about not needing to eat.
“You’re free to go and do something at night if you’d like.” Tighnari suggested over dinner that night. Scaramouche stiffened, wondering if the Forest Watcher had noticed him watching all night. “It has to be boring, waiting all that time and doing nothing. Contrary to what Cyno might think, I don’t mind if you want to go and take a walk by yourself.”
The Valuka Shuna chuckled at the puppet’s disgruntled expression, misunderstanding where Scaramouche’s anxiety came from. “Just the other day you were going on about how you were centuries old - unless you want me to chaperone you on your walk?”
Tighnari’s eyes twinkled as he teased, tail swishing in amusement at Scaramouche’s scrunched expression. The puppet huffed, his one arm sitting in front of his chest in a sad attempt at crossing his arms, a frown that absolutely wasn’t a pout sitting on his face.
“They grow up so fast,” Tighnari bemoaned with humor, wiping a fake tear from his eye.
Scaramouche was absolutely not above starting a food fight, but Collei’s giggles stopped him from throwing a ceramic plate at Tighnari’s head - expression softening slightly. He missed the affection in the Forest Watcher’s eyes as he looked between his two charges.
That night Scaramouche resumed his silent vigil in the corner of Tighnari’s hut. He tried to leave a few times, but barely managed a few steps out the door before his mind began to race with everything that might go wrong. At least the frustrating back and forth kept him occupied.
The next day, Tighnari once again brought up that friend who was willing to help them fix the cracks still running down the puppet’s face. The bruising was officially gone on his head as the Forest Watcher took a look at the injuries, but touching the cracks directly still sent a shock of pain through Scaramouche’s nerves.
There was no reason for Scaramouche to refuse the offer - except maybe the fact that he didn’t want a stranger touching his face. But Tighnari assured him that this person was safe, and the Forest Watcher had shown him every reason to trust him. To deserve trust, you had to show trust back - right?
“Sure, but I’m not going anywhere, alright?” He wasn’t ready to risk going into the city yet, worried someone might recognize him as The Balladeer.
“Seems reasonable enough. It’s what I was planning on having us do anyways - I’ll have Kaveh come over next weekend then.” Decision made, Scaramouche watched Tighnari mark something down on what looked like a calendar of sorts.
“Now, I want to go over with you what me and Kaveh have put together -“ Tighnari trailed off for a moment as he grabbed all the applicable papers he was looking for, also grabbing a glass jar filled with an opaque substance.
“This,” Tighnari said, gesturing to the jar with a tip of his head, “Is that lacquer I was talking to you about. At this point its contents are made up of approximately 52% Dendro energy compared to 30% Yumemiru wood resin extract and 18% Otogi wood resin extract.”
“Applying a quick burst of Electro to the lacquer will trigger a quicken reaction - which should lead to a spread reaction, solidifying the lacquer. Given your body’s constitution, the reaction should also trigger the molecular bonds of your body and lacquer to fuse together - the hope is that this will negate the need to replace or refresh the filling for several decades at the very least.”
The puppet could do little but nod along. He was intimately familiar with a variety of uses for electro and what its reactions could do - one of the few benefits from spending time around Dottore, he supposed. What Tighnari was saying made sense, though this specific application of elemental energy wasn’t something Scaramouche had ever heard of. He wasn’t impressed per-say, but not every human who called themselves a scholar could come up with something like this in less than a week.
Tighnari busied himself cleaning up his workspace while Scaramouche looked over the notes that’d been placed near him. They sat in relative silence until the Forest Watcher threw out a casual offer, “Me and Collei are going into the Grand Bazaar today - you’re invited if you’d like to come. We just need to pick up a few things.”
The puppet glanced up from his reading, “When…are you two leaving?”
“Whenever Collei comes back from her morning patrol, we’ll probably eat lunch on the walk to the city.”
“How long will you be gone?” Scaramouche made sure his tone was even, no anxiety showing through the inflection of his words.
“Hopefully not too long. Collei’s not a fan of crowds and quite frankly, neither am I - it’s far too noisy.” The Valuka Shuna gestured to his large ears as he spoke, “But if you want something more specific - no less than a couple hours? Travel time will guarantee that.”
It shouldn’t be too much of a risk. It’s not like Scaramouche was recognizable as an ex-Harbinger to the majority of Sumeru. He could defend himself, sure - but the puppet wasn’t ready to start more conflict between him and the nation that had offered him sanctuary. Playing nice was something he was good at too - young appearance and experience allowing him to put on a façade of innocence that would keep him out of trouble and off the radar of potential threats.
Staying behind would be the easy solution - but the idea of letting both Tighnari and Collei out of his sight for so long sent an anxious spark through his chest. Scaramouche huffed out a breath, rolling to his feet and abandoning the Forest Watcher’s research in favor of slipping on the sandals he’d been provided with.
“I’d better go and find her then, make sure she hasn’t gone and died in a ditch somewhere.” Scaramouche muttered in a flat tone as he tossed the jar of lacquer onto the mattress and stepped outside.
That’s another thing the puppet had come across during his lonely pacing at night - patrol schedules. Collei’s took her southwest, so Scaramouche set out in her vague direction - elemental sight quickly finding traces of dendro from the girl’s vision.
Her trail stayed on main travel ways - rougher terrain avoided in favor of staying on well-worn paths. Her patrol route also seemed to be shorter than those assigned to other Forest Rangers - it made sense - Scaramouche had heard her referred to as a trainee, and she was quite young.
It didn’t take long to meet up with her - she was only a mile out from Gandharva Ville, making her way back. Scaramouche raised a hand in greeting, and her posture straightened as she trotted over to him with a surprised smile.
“Good morning, Mister!”
Ah. Right. He still hadn’t told Tighnari or Collei what to call him besides expressing his desire not to be referred to as The Balladeer. Collei had taken to calling him simply “Mister” instead of Mr. Balladeer. He didn’t like it, but still didn’t have much of a desire to be called any other of his “names.”
The names Kunikuzushi and Scaramouche were the two titles he’d had for any significant amounts of time - but both left a sour taste in his mouth as both had been given to him by the Fatui. Big Brother had been the title he was most fond of, but it wasn’t a name, and had only been used for several years.
He frowned when he thought of the mousy haired child that had given him that title, longing and grief overwhelming his senses once again. Those memories were pushed to the back of his mind before even a hyper-observant Collei noticed. Though she surely noticed the perfect porcelain stillness that had frozen onto the puppet’s face. She didn’t ask though.
“Good morning.” He replied back robotically, turning around and walking with her back to Gandharva Ville - several paces ahead of Collei herself.
“Are you coming with us to Sumeru City?”
“Hurry up.”
They walked back to Tighnari together - well - walked wasn’t the most correct description of what they were doing. Despite her legs not being too much shorter than Scaramouche’s, Collei kept having to break into a light jog to keep up with the puppet. He didn’t feel much like talking or listening right now, so keeping her out of breath and two steps behind him seemed like a good solution.
Tighnari was waiting outside his hut for them, travel pack slung over his shoulders. As they got close the Valuka Shuna handed Collei what was most likely lunch - a small cylindrical package wrapped with a large leaf. One was also tossed at Scaramouche, giving the puppet no choice but to catch it.
“I don’t need this.” He muttered, staring down at the offending piece of food.
“Eh, take it anyways.” Tighnari turned back to Collei, “is there anything you need to grab before we head out?”
The girl shook her head before letting out a small squeak, “Oh! I forgot, I’ll be right back.” She scampered off.
“Is there anything you need to grab before we leave?” Tighnari accentuated the repeated question with a look Scaramouche didn’t like.
The puppet scanned the Forest Watcher’s face with narrowed eyes, “What are you getting at?”
“It’s not like it’s the biggest deal in the world - but you don’t like drawing attention to yourself and, well.” Tighnari paused for a moment, picking up a piece of his own dark hair,
“when’s the last time you looked in a mirror?”
“Do I look like the kind of conceited person who would spend any amount of time in front of a mirror? Wait, nevermind. Don’t answer that. Shut up.” The puppet swatted at Tighnari as the man raised his eyebrows like he was going to agree.
“Only a little self-centered.” Was said with fondness as the Valuka Shuna avoided the swipe and retaliated with a hair ruffle. Scaramouche grumbled, head curling in towards his shoulders.
Tighnari planted his hands on his hips, leaning backwards and continuing, “What you really seem like is the type of person who likes to keep up appearances. Not that you have to, but if you’re going for a low profile - a quick hair brush will help.”
“Pretty sure the bandages covering half my face have already ruined my chances of keeping a low profile.” The puppet muttered, picking at the collar of his shirt. “Or maybe, ya know - the missing arm. The ball joints.”
“If you wanted I could find something to cover them up?”
Scaramouche glanced down at his hand, turning it over and curling his fingers - watching the disconnected pieces of his fingers slide back and forth over the ball joints. Did he want them to be covered?
He’d hid them during his time with Niwa, doing everything in his power to fit in with the humans. Scared of rejection. On the contrary, he had displayed them openly with the Fatui, happy to separate himself from humanity after realizing how pitiful of a dream it was to want to become one of them. A god shouldn’t bother themselves with the opinions of mortals after all.
In the current state of affairs, Tighnari and Collei had seen the puppet at his lowest - so there had been no reason to hide his injuries or abnormalities. Were they bothered by his inhuman appearance? It didn’t matter what their opinion was, even if the idea of the two being put off by the puppet sent a small jolt of hurt deep in his chest.
Besides, Tighnari was right - people would probably stare. Scaramouche shuddered at the thought of a crowd full of eyes on him; analyzing him, studying him.
The food was tossed back at Tighnari, “I’ve changed my mind. I’m not coming.”
By now, Collei had returned - face scrunched up in anxious confusion as she caught the tail end of Scaramouche’s words. The puppet walked past her - walking into the Forest Watcher’s home and planting himself in his corner - ready to sulk until the two returned. Scaramouche pulled his legs up to his chest as set his cheek on his knees, glaring at the wall.
The self-imposed solitude didn’t last, and the puppet soon saw Tighnari crouched down in front of him - tapping Scaramouche on the knee.
“I didn’t mean to come across as insensitive. You’re fine as you are.” The Forest Watcher spoke evenly, words chosen carefully.
“It’s not like I care what people think, it’s just -“ Scaramouche fumbled over his words for a moment, thinking of manic red eyes, “Eyes - no - eyes on me. Reminds me of him. Makes my skin crawl.”
“I know. That’s why I suggested cleaning up your appearance a little bit. Not because there’s anything wrong with the way you look right now, but because by blending in you’re less likely to be noticed.”
He knew. Of course he did. Scaramouche had done enough undercover missions to understand how to blend in with a crowd. This was dumb, he’d done this before. What was a little crowd compared to everything he’d been through? Anxiety still brushed his insides - growing stronger the longer he remained inactive. It would be easier to stay here, but if he refused to go…he’d be alone.
Winding a piece of hair around a finger, Scaramouche tugged on it while he thought - shock of pain keeping his head on straight.
“I don’t think I can do it.” It was a hesitant admission, and not a conclusion the puppet had wanted to come to.
“That’s alright. We’ll try to be quick, alright?” Tighnari reached out to untangle Scaramouche’s hand from his hair - replacing the pulling with his own fingers to brush through the indigo strands. “Try not to stay cooped up in here the whole time, we’ll see you soon.” He watched as Tighnari’s tail disappeared from view, left a little dazed from the touch.
Staying cooped up, was in fact, what Scaramouche ended up doing. Thoughts circulating between equally foolish possibilities. Futures where either Collei and Tighnari never returned, or futures where Dottore was the one to show up in the open doorway - ready to drag the puppet back to his lab - stripping him for parts now that his purpose had run out.
“Not-Nara thinks too much. It is much better to be doing. Come, immerse yourself in the song of Vana.”
Little Ararycan stood in the doorway, chimes tinkled faintly around the Aranara. The appearance of the beady-eyed creature should have been unsettling, but any and all intimidation factor was lost when it began to toddle over to Scaramouche, pulling at his hand with surprising strength. The spirit only released the puppet from its nubby hold when he moved to stand up.
“What are you doing?” Scaramouche asked gruffly, looking down his nose at the gourd-like creature.
“We are doing. Not just Ararycan. Come.” So the puppet did come, following it through and outside of Gandharva Ville. Besides a few quick glances or waves from the Forest Watchers gathered still, no one spared the strange pair any attention.
Scaramouche thought back to Tighnari’s words when he’d first met Ararycan, glancing down at the Aranara. “Can they really not see you?”
“Most can’t. Most did - at some point. We Aranara often find ourselves companions of little Nara, but there always comes a day when the Nara no longer look for us - stop seeing us between leaves and branches.” Ararycan seemed happy with its explanation, but it took Scaramouche a few minutes of quiet to figure out what it meant.
“The line that separates reality and dreams for little Nara is far less concrete than the wall big Nara build. They find the idea to be conflicting - that fact and fiction can exist at the same time. Silly Nara, thinking they are always right.” Buer and her bizarre, cryptic little familiars.
Ararycan took him through the rainforest - sometimes following human-made paths and sometimes taking a turn into the overgrown undergrowth. Here and there they were interrupted by the odd shroomboar or finch, disturbed by the passing of a person.
At this point, despite having a generally sound sense of direction, the puppet was mildly unsure of what direction Gandharva Ville was in. Scaramouche was starting to wonder if he should have just stayed put. What had possessed him to follow this strange little creature out into the woods? It was unlike him.
Despite being tiny, the nubby little legs of Ararycan carried the creature at a brisk pace. It had begun singing at some point, the sound of its child-like voice blending in with the ambiance of the greenery around them. Despite being around mid-day, the sky had taken on a lightened version of a purpled dusk - and the atmosphere had become pleasantly hazy.
The little Aranara had stopped moving by then, beckoning the puppet to join it in the ring of flowers it now stood inside of. The little creature waddled around the circle, plucking stems from the ground and into the steadily growing bundle it held against its body. Scaramouche moved to sit cross-legged on the ground, setting his chin in his palm as he watched Ararycan.
Satisfied with the amount of flowers it had collected, Ararycan approached Scaramouche - depositing the miniature bouquet into his lap. It selected two of the flowers, weaving them together in a familiar pattern.
“You took me all the way out here to make flower crowns? I’m not a child you know.” He picked up two flower stems anyway, starting the process of tying them together.
“Not-Nara was scared, needed a distraction.” Ararycan commented.
The puppet startled, glaring at the Dendro spirit, “I wasn’t scared.” Beady eyes glanced over at the puppet as if they didn’t agree.
“Maybe not. But something similar. Made Not-Nara scared when Fox-eared Nara left,” the Aranara plucked another flower from Scaramouche’s lap, “So Ararycan came to help. Little Nara also get scared sometimes, it helps when we Aranara play with them. But Not-Nara doesn’t seem like the type to play, so Ararycan decided this would do.”
“Have you been watching me?” Scaramouche wondered; more than a little accusatory.
“Yes.” Ararycan answered, unbothered. “Not-Nara comes from Sarva, Ararycan was curious and wanted to talk more. But Not-Nara never left the Fox-eared Nara’s home alone.”
“There’s not much to say. I’m pretty sure you know as much as I do. It’s…complicated.” The easiest way to say that Scaramouche had no idea what was going on with his body.
“Silly Not-Nara.” This was accompanied by a pat on the knee, and the puppet wasn’t sure what to do with that.
The yammering little creature was apparently done talking, and the two fell into a comfortable silence - weaving their respective garlands. Scaramouche finished first, fingers joining the two ends up the circle.
He held the ring of flowers up to eye level, realizing he’d subconsciously made it the exact circumference it needed to be to sit on top of a certain mouse-haired child’s head. The thought had the puppet freezing in place, grief pushed aside in favor of anger as he crushed the flowers held in his hands, ripping apart the crown and tossing it back onto the ground.
“What makes Not-Nara so sad?” Ararycan asked, pausing in its flower weaving as it looked at the ruined remains of its companion’s creation.
“It hurts. It hurts so bad,” Scaramouche’s voice cracked as he held his hand up to his face, “I miss him. I miss his little laugh, even when his lungs became weak and that giggle became quieter and breathier. I miss how he used to curl up in my arms when I rocked him to sleep, he was oh-so fragile, but full of so much life. He was always so grateful even though we lived in a run-down shack, even though the only food I could ever find was lavender melons. I miss the way he called me big brother, I miss the little wet kisses he’d leave on my cheeks.”
The puppet hugging himself best he could with one arm, “I can’t even think about it anymore without wanting to tear everything apart.”
“Isn’t it amazing, being given something that makes saying goodbye so hard. Not-Nara needs them both. The good memories, and the bad memories. The good gives us a reason to hope and dream, and the bad gives us a reason to wish for more. To give one up is to give up the other.” The little Aranara placed its finished flower crown on top of the puppet’s head.
“This garland Ararycan made of Viparyas, a flower that is cultivated by memory and the dreams weaved from those memories. It is a record of our time together. The day will come when Ararycan forgets this beautiful dream, but that is okay - because Vana will remember - and so a bitter dream will become sweet.”
A small feeling of peace settled inside the puppet, tempering the grief-stricken anger that always surrounded his memories. The Aranara made it all sound so simple, but being an immortal forest spirit who served the god of Wisdom would do that to you.
“I think I’d like to go back now.” Scaramouche uttered, caught between that seed of contentment and the chasm of emptiness he often fled to when it all became too much.
“Ararycan thinks that would be best, yes. Goodbye friend, Ararycan hopes to see Not-Nara soon.” There the Aranara went, leaving Scaramouche alone in the rainforest.
About to yell out to his guide that he had no idea how to get back to Gandharva Ville, the puppet felt a tap on his shoulder. He blinked and found himself looking up at Tighnari - the wood of the hut’s walls pressed up against his spine.
“Fell asleep, did you? I’m glad you were able to get some rest.” The Forest Watcher huffed with a small smile, tail wagging gently behind him.
“I’m glad you ended up getting out too, fresh air does wonders for everyone.” This second comment was accentuated with a nod and glance towards the top of the puppet’s head.
Scaramouche felt around in his hair, finding the flower crown Ararycan had given him was still sitting on top of his head.