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Chapter Text

Chapter 1: A Young Girl

Much to Scaramouche’s displeasure, there wasn’t much to entertain him after leaving the Fatui or rather his past identity. Embellishing the name 'Wanderer' didn’t do much to sustain his curiosity about the world around him. He was trapped in Sumeru by its ‘wonderful and gracious Lesser Lord!’. He calls bull. If she were truly ‘gracious’ he wouldn’t be carrying out her tasks. Attending meetings on her behalf, reading research papers after commentary after essays. For a new generation radiating discoveries and ambitions, it felt repetitive and naive.

“You should write some papers back, it could teach them a lot! Especially from someone with over 500 years of experience,” Nahida would exaggerate.

Scaramouche scoffed, “As if you haven’t done the same. Shouldn’t you bestow your insight as the God of Wisdom?”

To that she would smirk, “If it were me nothing would change. You on the other hand are a fresh face”

Holding Scaramouche’s cheeks in her hands she grinned.

“Put those critiquing skills of yours to use! You didn’t reset your life for nothing didya?”

With that Scaramouche got a hand on these papers and decided to provide his own opinions on issues. Societal, political, technological, they needed someone to challenge them, tough them out a bit. Soon enough a new wave of essays rolled in, and he became intrigued once more. Nahida, Archon of Sumeru, and her people were a spectacle to the eye. They never failed to amuse him. Scaramouche supposed reading essays was just another tactic of helping Nahida keep him in check. However, at this point, he felt like he was the one running the nation of Sumeru rather than their own Archon.

“Wanderer, could you go to Gandharva Ville for me?”

Settled down at a knee-high table, his hands were drowning in papers regarding research on the Tatarasuna incident. Scaramouche groaned with exhaustion, “Can’t you tell I’m occupied, Buer? Right now isn’t a good time. You’re their Archon, maybe act like it”

Nahida giggled nonchalantly, “It isn’t one of those Wanderer. I think you’ll be particularly intrigued by this task”

To that Scaramouche looked over his head, “Elaborate will you”

“You’re coming to terms with your past, correct? This task is just to give you a little push!”

The Lesser Lord sat playing with the Aranara, completely absorbed in their attention. Scaramouche stared at the back of her head with annoyance.

“What does Gandharva Ville have regarding my past? I’ve never visited the place”

It wasn’t till then did Nahida glance back at him, her pupils dancing with eagerness, “Better go ahead and investigate!”

Archons and their vague inclinations. If Buer wanted him to uncover his past, couldn’t she have been more clear? It had always frustrated Scaramouche, there was no need to hold back, he could handle the bluntness. Nahida’s roundabout storytelling was going to be the death of him. The Lesser Lord had assigned him to Gandharva Ville to discuss matters regarding recent disturbances. There had been a spontaneous growth of foliage disarranging the foundations of structures. Nothing so far associated with his past.

Entering Gandharva Ville he was greeted generously by the villagers, they provided amenities and the sweetest tea. Observing the surrounding area, the overgrown foliage was apparent. The sturdy vines bent over trees holding homes. A worthy cause for concern, although with his abilities the best he could do was blow a hefty wind to correct it.

“I’m glad you could make it, Representative of the Lesser Lord. I hope that everything has been to your liking,” standing in front of him was a humanoid fennec fox. Broad black ears and an impressively long tail following. He looked familiar. Scaramouche couldn’t help but scoff at the fox’s overcomplicated outfit. Surely, everything wasn’t practical.

“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, I look forward to working with you,” Scaramouche cordially imitated. Even as a harbinger he always disliked pleasantries.

“The pleasure is all mine, I am Gandharva Ville’s Chief Officer of the Forest Rangers, Tighnari. And you are…?”

“Call me Wanderer”

Tighnari coughed inconspicuously, “Well, uh, Wanderer. Follow me”

The two made their way towards miniature huts hidden amongst the growth. Walking along the wooden bridge it began groaning beneath the beat of their shoes.

The officer, Tighnari, spoke up, “As you can tell the recent growth has been disturbing the forest ranger quarters and some posts nearby,” pointing towards the huts as well as some unkempt shop booths, “although we have some vision users, only two of us are dendro, myself included. The other one is a student of mine who will be joining us shortly”

Scaramouche scoffed under his breath. Surely, the actual Archon of Dendro would be more helpful than him. As they ambled closer to the outer reaches of the Ville, Tighnari looked busy as he patrolled, watching the few forest rangers make their way. However, the fox perked up, his ears twitching slightly, “Do you remember me, Wanderer?”

Scaramouche flinched hard. His eyes expanded at the mere mention of ‘remembering’. Memory; recollection. His thoughts instantly called to the Irminsul. What memory could that fox have of him? The wanderer’s mind raced.

In his most gentle words, he spoke, “What could you ever mean?”

He did remember. He recalled clearly as lightning struck Tighnari’s shoulder. That overwhelming power and rage blinded him. But, Scaramouche wiped himself out and ran off the face of Teyvat. Was this what Nahida wanted to show him? There's no way someone slipped through, Buer and the Traveler assured him-

“The uh…Interdarshan Championship. You saved me back in the desert. If it wasn’t for you I could have been in a life threatening condition”

Sweat gathered behind his neck. The wanderer blinked. The heat of the sun beat against his head.

“Oh, that. I do remember,” the stolen pulse in his chest still ran fast.

“I don’t recall ever expressing my gratitude to you, but thank you for the water”

Dazed out he slowly responded, “It’s nothing”

Reaching the end they find an isolated hut separated by a bridge. It wasn’t touched by the overgrown vegetation but it sat alone in solitude. A singular Sumeru Rose in a pot left outside to catch the afternoon sun. Wandering closer Tighnari started calling out, “Collei! The Representative of Lesser Lord Kusanali is here, stop your writings for now”

The ranger had carefully walked into the hut to not frighten the student. Scaramouche stood staring at the entrance of the room, listening as Tighnari gave her reminders and assurance. His panic from before shortly subsided and he turned around to overlook the floral greenery below the hut. As the Lesser Lord taught him, the Wanderer breathed in his surroundings. He was disappointed in himself for getting so worked up. As the Wanderer, he had been around Sumeru longer than he had recalled. He had been so distracted with Buer that he had forgotten that act of kindness.

A rustling behind him grabbed his attention and slowly Tighnari came back out. His hand held up the draping curtain covering the entry. The other hand held the back of a girl.

A young girl.

One with vibrant viridescent hair, and bright starry violet pupils.

“You must be the Wanderer. I’m Collei, a Trainee Forest Ranger, I’ll be helping you and Master Tighnari”

What was once pale sage green hair, tumbled towards him. A returning gnawing pain uprooted into his raw skull. That voice and those sulking violet pupils. The girl manifested from a past he tried so hard to dissolve.

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Shackles cracked along the floor of the dark containment Scaramouche walked along. The Doctor made it essential to allow the Balladeer the freedom to watch his ‘experiments’. Passing by the Doctor’s laboratory he grimaced at the sight of children cowering within their containment cells. Humans. Scaramouche always held a disdain for humanity. They carried a series of weaknesses as if they were their downfall. Humans are pathetic, and he is too.

He was a puppet, a creation of the Archons, touched by the holy water of Celestia. Scaramouche was made to hold the power of the purest lifeform. But he was just too human. Being more akin to humans was a joke; a flawless comedy. Yet humans were also creations of Celestia, Scaramouche felt like they were made to mock him.

“You were always different from humans, so I’m treating you that way. Someone like you, the creation of an Archon, must be respected. That’s why it's them and not you crawling on the ground. Understand this,” Dottore would ramble.

This unseemingly fit privilege became Scaramouche’s lifeline. The Fatui fed him his ego and he was always kept full. Mostly by Dottore, who earned his keep by leading him into his lab. Scaramouche had a severe distaste for the Doctor. He never asked for this, but it became his best interest to involve himself in Dottore’s affairs. He only heard rumors of the Doctor’s experimentation on humans, it was only fair to assume he would find dehumanized children within the heart of his laboratory.

As he continued to walk along, the bareness in his chest caved in. At that moment Scaramouche realized that even if he attempted to drive out all his empathy, his pity wouldn’t help them. The eyes of kids he passed reflected emptiness, a time long gone. Scaramouche’s doll knees rattled along the stone walls.

“Don’t be afraid just now, my puppet. Just ahead of us are my finest of the batch I’ve cultivated,” Dottore’s gloved hands guided him forward, “I think you’ll find them a bit similar to yourself”

Scaramouche hadn’t muttered a single ounce of retort. The path in front of them continued infinitely until he heard groans and anguished growling. They whined into painful silence. Dottore would stop the both of them in front of a certain prison cell. Streaks of the sun radiated through the confinement, revealing the body wrapped under layers of bandages.

A young girl.

“Here she is, come out number 0508. Reveal yourself to me,” Dottore commanded.

She wouldn’t lift her head. Battered and bloodied, the child wouldn’t care to give a single glance. Those musty viridescent curls stained Scaramouche’s mind for the future to come. By the time he left, he could still memorize the back of her head, a stage of passive resistance. Impatient, Dottore slammed his fist against the metal poles.

“OUT WITH IT! Don’t you want to flaunt your new power? You should be grateful, 0508. Reveal yourself or shall I improve those powers until you feel more confident?,” Dottore sneered. Scaramouche stood there, emotionless like a good little doll. Scaramouche stared at the girl, hoping to tell her with his eyes that it was no use.

The girl flinched and stayed curled up in a fetal position. Resistance was futile in the rules of the Doctor, it would only be a benefit to him. Dottore dramatically sighed, “Let it be your way. I’ll see you after I’m done treating the Balladeer”

No reaction. With that, the Doctor pushed them to continue along. Scaramouche snuck another glimpse at that girl, looking back at those sulking violet pupils. The Doctor clicked his tongue, “Recently, I found a new substance that has been increasing my subject’s fighting abilities. Wouldn’t you like to know what I found?”

Scaramouche eyes rolled towards Dottore, “Speak”

The Doctor happily ran his mouth, “Archon residue”

His eyes shot up and his hands quaked. He wanted to throw up.

“I was told our organization was in possession of some. What a waste if it weren’t for me. 0508 back there was my prized first success! Wonderful isn’t it? Saving a human with a connection to the gods is more powerful than a vision. Beautiful”

Scaramouche rolled around in a frantic jealousy. Why was a human receiving such treatment? He needed to be closer to those gods, he was one of them. The Doctor was surely making a mistake, the fool.

“Test it on me”

The Doctor grinned fanatically, “It would be my pleasure”

Chapter Text

Chapter 2: Replication

The Balladeer always believed that nothing could exhaust his abilities, that was until Dottore tested them. The use of anesthesia didn’t work on Scaramouche’s body so the Doctor continued without it. At some point, his mind grew numb and he virtually ignored all the sensations.

“You’re so much easier to work with. So dependable and malleable,” Dottore would occasionally comment.

In the last couple of hours, the Doctor reassured him that he was just prepping his body to take in the Archon residue. Since his body was meant to withstand the intake of celestial power, all Dottore needed to do was a few tweaks.

These ‘few tweaks’ became more of an exploration of his body. He was a puppet after all. Dottore became giddy and excited at all the possible things he could experiment on him.

Scaramouche twitched at simple but cold touches. Whether it was a tap of a finger or the feeling of a syringe he shivered ever so slightly. He wasn’t used to anyone touching him under any circumstances. But if it helped him get closer to his true form, so be it.

He was strapped down onto the bareness of an operation table. The blinding light-head blotted out his sense of sight, but he could swear he was staring at the heavens. The Balladeer made no noise, the silence of the room was only combated by Dottore’s occasional hum.

The Doctor made no forewarning to any of his actions. One moment Scaramouche would be almost asleep, the next Dottore was prying open his ball joints. Popping off his arms like the parts of a doll.

“Good puppet good. Stay still now. It’ll be for a few more hours”

A few hours turned into a couple more, and more, and more. The Doctor would become distracted by a discovery. A new opportunity. Scaramouche never complained, he couldn’t. Yet he continued to ache without a pause.

By the time they ended the Balladeer’s first session, the sun had set and was replaced by the moon. It's not like his body required sleep anyways. Getting off the procedure bed his knees buckled and he fell over to his side. The Doctor didn’t even notice.

The Balladeer glanced at a nearby mirror, the glass shattered yet intact. His porcelain skin looked as if it was untouched. His eyes bled a lightning fury as if he was in pain. As if. His dark electro hair was still in a long pathetic braid. One to replicate Makoto’s. Replication. It was thin and dwindling near the ends. His joints were bruised, or rather slightly disconnected. When he walked it felt uncomfortable and odd. Lastly, Scaramouche’s chest felt empty, like when he had no heart. Yet that fake beat continued within the crevices of his ribs.

Grabbing his clothes and a stolen coat he waltzed back into the forgotten asylum halls. The containment hall was just as silent as when he first walked in. No child was snoring, only the occasional constant scratching from a patient. As if there was a rash they scratched and scratched. But when Scaramouche looked there was only bandaged skin.

He continued limping along the hall. His footsteps blended into the silence. The end of the corridor seemed to not exist as he kept stumbling along. Scaramouche leaned against the cell walls, dragging his delicate fingers along the bars. The dust and dirt collected onto his hands as he continued his way.

That was until he glanced to his side of another confinement to see that familiar muted green hair.

He stopped in his tracks and stared at her stiff body. It looked as if she had died, though he could still hear muffled breathing. She was in the fetal position, her head on her knees, back against the wall. The same position as when he and the Doctor had left.

The Balladeer monotonously tapped the nail of his finger onto the metal bar. The sound vibrated along the cell and echoed in the hallway. He glared down at her with a taste of disgust and bitterness. The bandages on her covered her entire body as if it was her skin. Her figure was brittle and weak, a fragile bag of bones. She had to be plagued with sickness. Yet, somehow, she was the strongest among the Doctor’s subjects. That young girl was better than him, she was a priority.

He continued the tapping as if to irritate her. But nothing came from it. Her soft breathing was as repetitive as the rapping of his fingers. The Balladeer scoffed at the sight of her, she was only human. He clawed down the metal rods separating the two of them. The void in his rib cage was replaced by a deviating warmth. In such a way that his body, his heart, begged for her to wake up. To answer him when he murmured,

“Why did he choose you?”

Everything around him was deafened. Save for the constant pulse in his vessel’s sack of blood. The vibration from the words he spoke absorbed into his malfunctioning veins. Why why why why why why. Why did he choose her? Why did he choose her? What does she have that he doesn’t? Why wasn’t he first? Why wasn’t he a priority? Why did he choose her? Why her?

Why didn’t she choose him?

The useless braid tickled the back of his neck. He was inadequate to her; a celestial God. And he was sure to become inadequate to the Doctor.

Soon he fell to the level of the vulnerable young girl. His already broken limbs grew sluggish as they pulled him to the floor. Scaramouche leaned his head against the bars and grit his teeth. It wasn’t till then he realized his breath accelerating with every passing second. He tried to grab the strain in his chest, as though his lungs were being squeezed.

This state of mind wasn’t unfamiliar to him, yet he hated every moment of it. Scaramouche wanted to pull his skin apart, rip the hair off his scalp, and clench his teeth until they cracked. He was consumed in such a way that there was an inferno surrounding him. A replication of that night. Yet another ill child was in front of him. That young boy. This young girl. What sounded like a scratch became a burst of flames. What was once the cobbled floor became that wooden house. Scaramouche was burning himself into ash.

His vessel accumulated in heat but he couldn’t produce sweat to cool off. The icy bars were his only saving grace. Scaramouche’s breath trickled downward in a spiral. The rattling of his doll arms slowed down and his ash-covered heart cried out.

The fluorescent moon illuminated the young girl and him. Again, he could begin to hear her delicate breathing. No answer. It was better that way.

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Collei awoke in her chamber with a strained neck and unease. Every night she's always plagued with nightmares, however, last night was different. She couldn’t even recall her nightmare, let alone a dream. It was as if she blinked and time passed without a care.

The beaming sun reflected onto the bare prison walls. Before she dared to move she analyzed the sounds of those passing by. There was the screeching of birds and the occasional whines of children next door. At this hour, it was rare for the Doctor and his entourage to be sauntering. Today could be another lucky morning.

Peeking between the crevice of her crossed arms and uptight knees, no one was around. Relieved she let go of herself, her bones and joints cracking. Collei’s body shivered as her legs brushed the frigid stone below. Her bandages gathered with sweat and felt sticky against her face.

Collei couldn’t remember the last time she woke up to the comfort of a cushion. Had it been months or years she can’t tell the difference. She hadn’t seen her mother and father for much longer than that.

She chose to leave memories of her family behind. At first, Collei was confident they would return, they wanted to cure her sickness after all. Barnabas, the Seer, dragged her along, feeding into her delusions of a future. After meeting The Doctor, however, he reassured her that he helped relieve her parents of a problem. Collei was their problem, a setback. They no longer needed her, but the Doctor told her he could find her uses. The Doctor began to make up her purpose, her entire existence. Once she accepted they were never coming back she eventually had forgotten her life before the Fatui. Besides, she needed to make room for memorizing commands, routine, Fatui etiquette, demands, time, and routes.

Collei should count herself lucky, as one of the Doctor’s favorites she had the penthouse sweet of prison cells. Earlier breakfasts, earlier dinners. If he was in a good mood he let them request items. That was about it though. The item she chose was a cat doll to keep her company. The needlework wasn’t the finest and the patchwork was sporadic, but the kitty helped her go to sleep faster.

Collei yawned, leaning back and holding the doll above her head. Its expression was fixed in a furrowed brow. Glaring back down at her. Her tired eyes squinted with a morning spell. As much as she wanted to fix the doll, her sewing skills weren’t exceptional at all. She couldn’t be bothered. She listened to the rustling leaves playing in the wind. From where she stood she couldn’t see them, but she imagined resting on the mellow welcoming grass.

Every day was another day of either hope or despair. The Doctor’s patients never knew when he wanted to experiment with them. It was practically a gamble. Sometimes Collei would watch as wailing children were dragged along the floor to his lab. The same kid would go day after day, without end. Until they would pass by her cell one day, and never return to walk back.

When it was just her and the Doctor in the lab Collei never made any protest. Any movement, any word, could result in an uncertain death in the eyes of Fatui. Once she was strapped down to an operation table it felt like an eternity before the Doctor finished his experiment. Collei couldn’t sleep even if she made the effort to. All she could do was shriek and sob, hoping that would tell the Doctor to stop. The Doctor must be deaf to these things by now.

Thinking back she wished she could have screamed a little louder, and begged a lot more. She wished she could have fought back, punched, or kicked. As if it was her fault for being taken as if she deserved the pain because she didn’t do anything to stop it. If the beings in celestial were truly the ruler of fate, she was desiring to watch their magisterial palace in the sky burn. Let the flames roar so loud that she can’t hear the yelling of any more children.

Collei slumped her body and moved to her side. She wished she could escape this wretched hell of an existence.

“You’re awake”

Abruptly, Collei sat up at attention. Her eyes watered and the temperature in her body turned from a bitter cold to a sickening searing warmth. Her hands shook nervously as she turned around to face the voice. She hadn’t heard anyone walk up to her cell. It would’ve echoed across the hall. How could she be so clumsy not to hear it? What more could they need from a slave like her?

Collei glanced upward, expecting an assistant or the Doctor to take her away from her limited peace. Yet what she found was a man. He looked neither like an assistant, but he was too well kept to be another prisoner. Most prominent was his long ragged braid that reached his hips. His stature had a limp even though he stood up to hide it. His face was still and unrecognizable, yet when he looked at her it was a mile-long stare. It wasn’t until she watched his pupils she found a smolder of electricity. He was the person alongside the Doctor when he passed by last night.

When she had acknowledged him she didn’t make any attempt to answer. After a while, the being spoke once more, “What does the Doctor want?”

Collei looked briefly at the man but immediately looked away. How would she know?

“Answer me”

Almost inaudibly she reluctantly responded, “I don’t know”

The man sighed and crossed his arms, his back leaned against the bars turning away from her. As if he couldn’t bear to stand upright for too long. He stayed there pondering her response, what to ask next. The man was silent, if she closed her eyes she wouldn’t have known he was near her. He’s dangerous.

“What did Dottore do to you?”

That was the first time someone dared to say his name. The man said it without hesitation. Why would someone like him, of supposedly high stature, need to know about her? She sat there contemplating the question posed.

“What he does to every kid here,” she retorted, it wasn’t as if the Doctor’s procedures were a secret.

The man scoffed and turned around to face her. She shuffled her body further from the bars and watched his movements. At the sight of her, he observed her aversion. However, just as he was about to push forward another question Collei grits her teeth and mutters,

“What do you want? Haven’t I given enough to you, Fatui?”

The being stopped himself. He swallowed the words he would’ve spoken and looked deep into her eyes as if there was something there. The sweat in Collei’s brow accumulated. She surely spoke out of turn, and he was probably going to tell the Doctor about this later.

The drawn-out silence of the hall promptly ended as assistants began making their way to wake up every cellmate. The being sneered at the sight of them and looked down at Collei for the last time. Thoughts drowned Collei as she anticipated his next move. Yet, making no noise at all, the man with the worn-out braid calmly stood back and exhaled. The next thing she knew, the man waltzed away without saying a word.

Just before he was out of her line of sight Collei briskly peeked out her cell, only to find he had disappeared. As the hour went by the Doctor hadn’t called her down, meaning that man never told him anything. It seemed as if she hadn’t lost all her luck just yet. Yet as time went by even she pondered the question she asked that being, one left unanswered. Just who was he?

Chapter Text

Chapter 3: Unraveling

Days briskly passed and Collei awoke again to unbothered chirps of birds. There were no night terrors, none to disturb her slumber. A strain in her chest pulled at her nerves, although she had a peaceful sleep she couldn’t help but feel unease.

That Fatui man; the one with wicked electric eyes and a thunderous temper she never dared awaken. He still hadn’t called on the Doctor after their encounter. The day before it kept her alert, every snap she heard churned her stomach of the possibilities to come. However, the sleeping spell from her malnutrition eventually caught onto her, leaving her to nap.

Part of her wished to see him again, to get him to finish that answer. What were his true intentions? Surely, he's not trying to get on her good side? Collei couldn’t produce her own opinion on it either.

The man’s gracefulness and stature vaguely looked like something crafted in Celestia. You could tell just by looking at him. His complexion was flawless, almost like he was a robot. If not from the gods then probably a creation of the Fatui. He couldn’t have been human. The thought of that man being compared to a god sickened Collei to her core. It was as if the rulers of fate were mocking all her weeping and attempts of rebellion.

Bells rang against the stone halls. Collei jumped up at the sudden ring, her hand at her heart, still beating. The girl glanced outside to get a sense of time, it seemed to be the hour for midday meals. It was the prisoners' only meal of the day. As a prized possession of the Doctor Collei got the hottest food prepped.

Even so, the meal wasn’t at all pleasant. Collei didn’t even blink as assistants slid into her cell a bowl, in it was watered-down porridge with chunks of undisclosed meat. Her stomach stirred looking at it, on one side her body was eating itself inwards, and on the other was that repulsive grime for ‘food’. On first taste, there was no flavor in the slightest, nothing but uncomfortable textures that made her gag. An aftertaste burned in her mouth and she pushed it aside to try again in a few minutes. Collei had forgotten the taste of anything other than this muck.

A gust of warm wind blew into her cell as she sat up against the wall. She could hear other kids beside her jail cell retching at the food. Her body dragged on with the limited nutrients given to it. Every time she slept she wondered if that would be the time her human body gave up on functioning. If Collei wouldn’t wake up ever again. It was a miracle her body could still move at all.

The assistants eventually gathered themselves back into their quarters, this torture room remaining forgotten once again. With no noise she was left to the solitude of her thoughts, what was left of her freedom.

Yet she abruptly heard the sound of approaching feet running along the ground. The footsteps were made obvious and sparsely approached. She attempted to sneak a look outside her cell, to catch that prying person. Before she could even look, above her was that person nonetheless.

It was that Fatui man from the night before. He stood in front of her surrounded by the grimy prison, a stanch difference from his face and clothing, free from impurities.

Collei gasped, frightened by his appearance. Instinctively she pushed herself further away from the bars. Was he back to bring her to the Doctor, punish and continue to torture her, murder her where she stood? Her mind raced and her breath hitched in her throat.

Despite her thinking, the man with the withered braid just watched her dreadfully. He glared down at her expressionless and unmoved, making her even more terrified. He looked around until his sight caught onto the untouched bowl of gunk by the side.

“Hm, so is that it?”

Glancing back at her eyes he scoffed and wandered away without comment. Almost strangely, leaving just the way he came. Collei sat confused and alone, the beating in her chest encompassing her hearing. Unlike the previous time, she never heard his presence, yet now she can hear his shoes clack against the ground.

Collei couldn’t help herself and shuffled her body towards the bars. She wanted to know where the man had waltzed off to after scaring her. After spotting him she saw he was walking back with another bowl in hand, this time with chopsticks, her curiosity peaked as he made his way.

Once he came back to the cell she pushed herself back again, unwilling to make eye contact. Leaning down, the man pushed the new bowl into her confinement.

“Here, eat this. I don’t require substance like this”

As Collei inhaled the smell of the meal her pupils dilated in size. Looking up she found the bowl deliciously arranged, the aroma of rice covered by a comforting tea broth. There was meat too, it looked like fish, or rather eel. She never tried eel before, nevertheless, it looked way too appetizing not to try. The dish seemed like an Inazuma specialty and her mouth began to water. Before she touched the bowl she looked back at the man that gifted it.

He turned his head and sighed, “I didn’t do anything with it, if you refuse to believe me that's your loss. This is yours”

Collei nodded back at him, and without hesitation began to scarf down the rice. It may have been a ploy or a trick but at that moment Collei couldn’t think of anything else. She had never felt happier in a long time. Even if it was contaminated with poison she wouldn’t have regretted it.

The bitterness of the tea broth and the sweet rice complemented each other. The eel was tender and tough, but was the first real nourishment she had in months. While she was munching on her meal, the man sat down in front of her. Legs crossed observing her condition; surveying humanity's desperation at its finest.

“Humans are so simple,” he muttered seemingly to himself.

Collei was way too distracted to comprehend anything he had been saying, focused on getting every last grain of rice from the bowl. Just before she finished, the man had slid a bottle of water he had been keeping.

With no time Collei grabbed that too. Then continued with her food. The celestial being’s eyes softened, if but slightly, as he tried his best not to aggravate or disturb. He was considerate, careful not to touch her as he passed along the food and water.

While observing her eating he noticed the shaking of her hands. Even though she was shoving the rice into her mouth with much vigor she’d shiver often, fumbling the chopsticks.

In turn, he spoke, “Are you cold as well?”

Collei looked up at him as she grabbed the edges of the bowl and began drinking the broth. When she finished she wiped her chin and nodded slowly in response. However, expecting a thin blanket or materials for a fire the man took off his coat.

The coat was long and luxurious, it carried a fur collar with decorative chains and symbols to complement. The man folded the coat and placed it between the bars on Collei’s lap. She unwrapped it with care, and at first glance, she could tell that all the dirt and filth from her was going to ruin such a perfect overcoat.

She bundled herself, covering her fragile body completely in the coat. It smelt of brewing tea and boiling blood. The overcoat was way too big for her, but it would make a good substitute for a blanket or bed. Collei glanced back up at the man who gifted her a life.

He carried no expression, yet his immoral eyes had melted into a virtuous shine. His gaze alleviated as he saw the dish he brought wiped clean. The child he saved secretly grinned beneath the coat collar and murmured, “Thank you”

The man blinked in surprise. Collei’s cheeks raised and her face had soothed slowly from before. Almost unwillingly the man couldn’t help smiling back. Ever so weakly but so much so that Collei was startled by such genuine fondness.

The Fatui man held his hand out, not for her to hold but in articulation. With his mellow smile, he answered calmly, “May I know your name?”

Collei sat there in a pause. No one in the past couple of years had ever attempted to call Collei by her given name, only her number. She had almost mistakenly given the man her number. The girl sat in silence, the words stuck in her esophagus. How much of her humanity had she lost?

Uncertainly, she pronounced her name, as if she had recently forgotten it, “Co…Collei. My name is Collei”

The man nodded and stood up, the bruises on his joints grew apparent as the sun graced his skin. He looked as if he was about to leave as he surveyed the entrances of the hallway. Running his hand against the frigid bars of her prison cell, he inspected her condition.

“I’ll be back, Collei. For now, call me Kabukimono”

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Scaramouche wasn’t entirely certain why he gave her the name Kabukimono. It was the first to come to his mind, even with all his honorable titles as a Harbinger. He supposes there was something sentimental about Kabukimono, it was the first name given to him by humans after all. Rather it was the one that young boy tended to use, even after his insistence to call him anything else. His time with the young boy was cut short by betrayal, but the happiness from Scaramouche’s days of caring for him was reignited by the girl, Collei.

As their time together continued to drag on, Scaramouche continued to make an effort to provide Collei with necessities. Steadily, Collei’s hesitation around him began to disintegrate and he would often find her peeking outside her cell for him. He controlled how much he got close to the girl. Even after becoming familiar with each other, Collei kept her distance. Scaramouche understood the itching disgust of touch, and he ensured giving her enough space when he came by.

Initially, Scaramouche just wanted information on Dottore, to further his malice-laced plans. After it failed he continued about his Harbinger missions, occasionally coming back to Dottore for more procedures. Yet every time he did, he would pass by Collei; emaciated and gaunt. Her head hung low in a fetal position and her breathing labored continuously. Every child was in nearly the same state of being, but Collei was worse in every way. Having been experimented on by Dottore incessantly, she appeared dead.

It terrified Scaramouche. He didn’t feel just pitiful anymore, he became more agitated and panic-stricken. Not doing anything to help, he felt as useless as that night, the young boy's lifeless figure. He refused to see it happen again. And so, Scaramouche took it upon himself to aid her.

After secretly healing Collei for a week she had enough strength to periodically get up and walk around her prison cell. If Scaramouche had the time he would sit by her and observe her. Sitting in front of the confinement, sometimes stirring up the tiniest of conversations, most of the time they were silent. He stayed by her when he could.

“What nation are you from?” Scaramouche would attempt to strike discussion.

Collei was never required to answer any of his questions, at first she never did, but as time passed she put effort into conversing, “I come from here, Sumeru, I don’t….remember what it's like outside here though”

“What do you remember?”

Collei gazed outside the jail window, “I know this view and I remember the desert heat, the food, my parents”

She wasn’t sure what to call them, they were biologically her parents but they weren’t her mother and father. A mother and father wouldn’t sacrifice their daughter.

“Are you from Inazuma, Kabukimono?” Collei asked out of curiosity.

He never enjoyed talking about himself. But when it came to Collei he went through the fuss of answering questions. Scaramouche leaned back and sighed, “I was born there, although I don’t hail to that wretched nation anymore”

“I heard Inazuma was a nation made up of islands, is that true?” Collei acclaimed.

“It is,” Scaramouche answered bemused. Everyone would know about each nation's geography, that is, everyone with access to education. It seemed as if Collei didn’t know anything outside this jail.

“A nation surrounded by the ocean, I wish I could see the ocean with my own eyes,” Collei pondered, “I heard it tastes like salt, is that true?”

“It is. That's because seawater is made of sodium and chloride,” Scaramouche would nod, only to be responded with bewilderment on Collei's face.

“It’s made of salt and water,” he would clarify.

Collei thought over his response, and continued interrogating him, “Is there an ocean made of pepper and water?”

Scaramouche stared at her in disbelief before giggling, not giggling but full-on laughing. Trying to contain himself he covered his mouth and looked away to stop himself.

“What?! Is there not? But isn't it always salt and pepper? Kabukimono?” Collei was baffled at Scaramouche’s state. He continued wildly chuckling to himself. The laughter almost started infecting Collei, as she began bubbling giggles herself.

Once Scaramouche calmed down he responded, “How ridiculous, pepper comes from a process of planting, not in the ocean”

“Oh, I see,” Collei flushed in childish embarrassment.

“Is there anything else you want to know?” Scaramouche gestured.

As Collei sat twiddling her doll’s ears thinking, a dramatic slam of an iron door came from the hall. Immediately the Scaramouche got up and ran toward the door into Dottore’s lab. Leaning back as if to convey he had been waiting for his presence.

Scaramouche couldn’t see Collei from this angle, but he reassured himself she would be okay. He had told her a place to hide the coat whenever people would pass by. If the Doctor came to experiment on her today, he was willing to put himself up for the procedure. All his hard work of bringing her back to health would be gone the moment the Doctor got his hands on her.

It was indeed the Doctor who opened the door, assistants at his tail. The moment Dottore laid eyes on Scaramouche he knew his day wouldn’t be pleasant.

“Why if it isn’t the Balladeer at the footsteps of my laboratory! It’s my lucky day. What do I owe the pleasure?” The Doctor held onto his gaze, hands behind his back.

“I want to know how you’ve been progressing. All I’ve seen is swollen joints and my time wasted,” the Balladeer challenged.

“Hush hush,” Dottore held out a finger to his face, effectively irritating him, “I was just about to contact you to set up a meeting, however since you are here now, why don’t we have it?”

The Balladeer nodded. The Doctor and subordinates push past him, unlocking the lab door and holding it open for the Harbinger. Once inside they both sat in corresponding seats, Dottore’s lackeys enclosing him. Reaching for nearby papers and files the Doctor presented it in front of him.

“Here is all the data I’ve managed to collect regarding the effects of Archon Residue and your body. Looking here we can see you are immune to its control. Usually, a human patient has about a 3% chance of survival when taking this, but you’re guaranteed. I hypothesized it must be from your…way of origin,” The Doctor pointed at charts and graphs, ones only he could understand.

“Now, the Archon Residue we originally tested you on was found in Mondstadt. Although you were immune, its power was weak. So we sampled from more regions and found you to be attuned with Inazuma Archon Residue,” Dottore grinned.

“Yet even after coming to that conclusion, I knew we could do better! I began thinking,” The Doctor exaggerated, getting up and wandering around Scaramouche in circles, “And I thought to myself? What if we got hands on Archon Residue from none other than Beelzebul?”

Scaramouche eyes shot up, his chest caved in, and his soul death stared into the Doctor’s. He knew what this man was capable of, what lengths did he go through? Before the Balladeer could intervene Dottore spoke up.

“Although I wish we had her Residue, I unfortunately must resort to other means of incentive…now Balladeer…”

The Doctor gripped Scaramouche’s shoulders with vigor, holding him in place as a form of control. Beads of sweat ran down his neck. He was paralyzed.

“...have you heard of the Plane of Euthymia?”

Chapter Text

Chapter 4: Wilting

Collei pressed her hands up against the bars of her confinement. Leaning as far as she could just to see how Kabukimono handled the Doctor. She couldn’t make heads or tails with the continuing silence.

Though, Collei wasn’t quite the optimist when it came to hoping for the best outcomes.

She ruffled the coat he gave her, warming her hands by caressing the fur collar. Other than her cat plushie, it had become her prized possession. The kindness of a stranger was still a concept she couldn’t wrap her head around. From a person in the Fatui no less. Someone high-ranked enough to challenge the Doctor. Collei should have feared for her life whenever Kabukimono made an appearance, but she never was.

Collei always looked forward to seeing him. When he began talking with her she would seldom speak. At first, it was her listening to his meaningless banter. Kabukimono would soon start adding rhetorical questions, to which she nodded or shook her head. Then over time, she replied to personal questions she was comfortable with. Despite it all, that man and her became undoubtedly close.

Inching closer to the edge of her cell a loud pang vibrated the very bars she held onto. Letting go she yelped backward, breathing heavily as she faced the assistant who hit her cell.

“Stay in your place. Don’t even think of trying to eavesdrop, dirty rat,” the advisor glared down at Collei.

Shuffling in where she sat, Collei snuck the coat out of view of the assistant.

Before the advisor could say any more, a door at the end of the hall slammed wide. Thundering footsteps headed towards their way, the assistants looked as if they were trembling. Collei could recognize the sound of that stride. It was Kabukimono.

He screamed furiously, “You psychotic freak! I’m not going through with that procedure you sadist fuck!”

Collei watched as he rushed frantically to the other side of the hall. He paid no mind to her, appearing for only a moment. The blood rushed to her head as soon as she heard the subdued tone of another man.

“My dear Balladeer, there's no need to fear. The pain will be brief. Think of the power you can have, the goals you will accomplish”

Collei could feel the bloodlust in Kabukimono’s words, “I’m not going to relive my memories of her. The next time you think of pulling a trick this funny, I suggest you put a bullet in your head. Maybe then something can go through it”

Her spine shivered, the cold air crawling down her back as her eyes followed the Doctor’s slow steps toward Kabukimono. His pace carried weight as they dragged against the stone ground. Just as the Doctor left her line of sight she watched as he steadily pulled out a syringe behind his leg.

Collei’s eyes widened in agitation. The Doctor was going to drug Kabukimono into a slumber. The sweat accumulated against her brow and her thoughts spun. Her weak demeanor became challenged by her initiative to do something. Anything. She couldn’t sit there watching the person who rescued her life become subdued. Collei had to get up.

She had to move. She had to stop the Doctor. The choices in her head blared and blurred in unison. She needed to act, to divert, to do anything. Anything at all.

Collei couldn’t lose him. She can’t.

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The Doctor grinned as he trailed behind the despairing Balladeer. The doll-like harbinger jolted. His bruised joints hadn’t healed, he had been too busy taking care of Collei. So he limped, and it wasn’t enough. He began tearing against the wall.

“Stay away from me! Wait till the Tsaritsa hears about this, depraved son of a bitch,” The Balladeer used in defiance, his voice cracking.

“Oh doll. Don’t you think it's a little too late for that”

The Doctor delicately raised his hand high, pointing right at Scaramouche. There was no verbal direction, only his hand suspended in the air. Just then, a unison of assistants charged toward the Balladeer. Their eyes became covered by an underlying darkness.

“Don’t touch me, filthy humans. Defying my word is treason!” desperation drowned his voice.

His arms flailed at the horde of Dottore minions surrounding him. The Balladeer's nails dug into the skin of his hand, preparing for a fight. But no one moved.

Without warning, a bellowing shriek came from one of the assistants. They had become encompassed in a storm of flames. The minion bowed down to the ground as their companions watched in horror. The Balladeer feasted his eyes on the smoldering human, their face becoming engulfed in the blaze.

They screeched in agony, their hands crawling to their face for a sense of relief. As the flames roared, there was a noticeable difference that appalled the Balladeer and the assistants. The fire was pitch black.

Soon enough something assembled itself from the ashes of its victim; a serpent of fire.

It grew wildly in size. Its body twirls itself around the melting face of the assistant. The snake hissed loudly at the other assailants. Scaramouche writhed on the ground, gaping as the predatory serpent continued ruthlessly attacking the escaping minions.

Scaramouche gazed up in awe and wonder, someone had saved him. That was when he met the eyes of his savior, standing above him, reaching out with a hand.

With smolder and ash smeared on her face, it was Collei. Tears ran down her face.

Her violet eyes glowed softly. Scaramouche’s face eased slowly as he recognized her. He could feel his heart crying out, ripping apart his ribs. Looking behind the young girl he saw her prison cell, the bars mangled and bent. A passageway created by a beast.

Collei examined him, understanding his distress, she slowly brought her chest to her knees, reaching his level. Collei reached behind her and pulled out none other than a stuffed animal; a cat.

She brought it up to Kabukimono’s face and smudged it on his cheeks as if to cheer him up. Despite the tears running down her chin. Even when Dottore’s minions continued bawling, their yells being swallowed by devouring embers. Scaramouche smiled back at her.

Kabukimono grabbed onto Collei’s hand, and with all her strength Collei plucked him up from the floor. Once they stood upright Collei reached for Scaramouche’s arm, wrapping it around her shoulders to hold him up. As they became balanced the wailing came to an end. All that was left in the hall was the Doctor.

Dottore began clapping, he was entertained, “Well done, 0508. I knew you could present all my hard work. And you’ve made quite the mess,” his boots scalded by gore.

The realization sank into Scaramouche as he firmed his grip on Collei’s shoulder. Did she do all of this?

“Aren’t you impressed by my creation, Balladeer?” The Doctor's eyes preying on Scaramouche.

“You’re a sick man,” he spat. No wonder the Doctor found Collei worth his time.

Dottore chuckled, “Now tell me…when did my favorite subject and doll become well acquainted?”

The two glared at him, not once did they dare speak. He could feel Collei shaking lightly, her feet were telling her to run, but her body stood unmoving. Whether it came from strength or dread she was unsure.

“It doesn’t matter! I have eyes and ears everywhere, children,” The Doctor breathed. Subtle whispers echoed down surrounding their hearing. The other prisoners grumbled slowly, creeping toward the bars to face the Doctor. Their peering radiant eyes catch Scaramouche and Collei off guard.

“These children tell me someone has been supplying extra meals to my little 0508. I don’t suppose you know who this is?” Dottore grinned, edging to hear the Balladeer’s response.

Scaramouche wasted no time, “How do you expect your subjects to perform well without necessary substance? I’m doing you a favor”

The Doctor snorted, “What’s more important is what you teach them, Balladeer. You teach this one that it can be spoiled and impudent. Soon it will become more insolent and rebellious. Isn’t that more despicable?”

The Balladeer grits his teeth in repulsion, “Look, I don’t particularly care about your methods. It's me you want, leave Collei out of this”

“Number 0508, you mean, has defied direct regulations and orders. The child needs discipline. That is none of your concern, however,” Dottore sneered.

Scaramouche scowled in a sense of defeat. A part of him wanted to follow Dottore’s direction, but he couldn’t let him get away with this. He wouldn’t, “I’ll deal with her impertinence, Dottore, in return I will… willingly…proceed with the experiment”

The Doctor squinted, perking up with suspicion. Collei turned towards him, her eyes sinking in the fury of the serpent, but to him, he only saw her fretful concern. After a pause he continued his demands, “But doing so will come with conditions…”

Dottore quivered in irritation, “And what do you think you’re doing, Balladeer? You’re not in the position to make such commands”

Scaramouche clenched his fists, his nails almost puncturing his skin, “Don’t forget Dottore, I’m a Fatui Harbinger…just like you”

At that exact moment, Collei seemingly slipped her grip. Scaramouche didn’t have the courage to look at her after declaring his title. He could imagine the turmoil running through her head as she held a man who carried the same power as her torturer.

“If you don’t want me to make things difficult for you, I suggest you take the deal”

The Doctor pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned under his breath. The guts of his fellow minions were etched below his feet. These children had already gotten his laboratory in such disarray.

“Must you always make our exchanges more convoluted than it is? Fine, Balladeer, I will upkeep this deal. Tomorrow by dawn we’ll proceed with my experiment. Don’t disappoint,” The Doctor bit.

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Scaramouche and Collei looked onwards into the back of Dottore’s head. The Doctor waltzed over his assistant's bodies, not a single acknowledgment. At the snap of his fingers, more minions ran over to his side, aiding him back into his office. A few more straggled in and began dragging out the now dead bodies spilling oceans of blood.

Collei glanced down at Kabukimono, any highlight in his eyes was gone. He stared infinitely into the abyss of the prison. He looked like he signed a contract with the devil. With her remaining strength, Collei brought the two of them into her bent open cell. Settling him down into the inhospitable concrete wall.

She brought herself to the other side of the cell and sat down parallel to him. Collei gripped her arms, clearly shaken by the deadly vigor of her serpent fire. Shuddering even more to who the man in front of her truly was.

The blinding smell of dead bodies trapped the two of them. Collei wasn’t even sure how she should react. She knew Kabukimono held power similar to The Doctor, but being one of the Eleven Fatui Harbingers was completely separate. What could not one, but two Harbingers find remarkable about her? How could a Harbinger, those unforgiving, lend a hand out to a hopeless child like her?

Kabukimono still wouldn’t look at her, even after everything subtly calmed down. Collei wonders what had terrified him to run out of the Doctor’s office. She supposes everyone has their limits, but what limits were those of a Fatui Harbinger?

“What did he do to you?” Collei muttered softly. Enough for Kabukimono to ignore it if he wasn’t listening carefully.

Scaramouche moved his eyes toward Collei before delicately chuckling, “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

Collei wanted to grin back but his sulking face had already turned away. His breath had slowed down from before, but even she could still see his fingers twitching occasionally. As Collei opened her mouth to follow up, Scaramouche spoke, “The Doctor was going to recreate something that could break me”

Collei froze as she concentrated on his words, “The Doctor’s goal is to disassemble me and strengthen my connection with archon residue. As someone…from Inazuma…he wanted to find something that could substitute residue from the Electro Archon”

“The Doctor was going to stimulate the Electro Archon’s domain called the Plane of Euthymia”

Collei nodded along, she understood the inner workings of archon residue, but a procedure like this was unheard of. Scaramouche continued, “The Plane of Euthymia is a realm of Ei’s– I mean the Electro Archon’s consciousness. The Doctor planned to project her consciousness with various stolen Inazuman electro-visions and visual stimuli. For me it’ll be like torturous solitary confinement, reliving memories I wish to erase from my past”

The young girl softened at Scaramouche’s innate trust in her. Collei couldn’t help but feel sympathetic, because she recognized his suffering; she understood it better than anyone else. The haunting voices of the past.

“I don’t know how much I can take,” Scaramouche whispered, like an unspoken truth. His head wilted like a sunken flower.

Collei crawled across the concrete floor to the boy; like a torn doll left to be forgotten. She settled her hand on his shoulder, seeing how he’d react. Kabukimono didn’t even flinch. With that she wrapped her arms around his body, resting her head on his chest. Encompassing him in a hug.

Their bruises and unkempt blood stains became apparent as they embraced. Kabukimono rested his chin on her head, refusing to look at her as his pupils watered. His chest expanded with warmth as he nuzzled into Collei.

Like two flowers wilting they rested in each other's company.