[catch-all] i know i can be so cold

[lyingstars]

⌛ Who: Scaramouche & YOU
⌛ What: Catch-All - TDM and Other Things
⌛ When: Throughout November
⌛ Where: Places - Both East and West
⌛ Warnings: A smol angry - Will add as needed

OPEN		CLOSED
East ■ Love is Blind ■ A Boy and his Bug West ■ Visions of the Future		■ For Kazuha ■ For Ei ■ For Diluc

Comments

LOVE IS BLIND: A COUNTERFEIT EMOTION

[lyingstars]

[Dating is not something Scaramouche would generally be interested in - even with the monetary incentive - it's not something he's interested in, but it being presented as testing to learn more on Kizuna is what draws him in. While the magic of bonds is something he'd rather not try to involve himself in, after the previous month he'd be a fool to say he hadn't somehow managed to form some. Form bizarrely as well, with no answers on specifics - he wants answers.

So he signs up, if only to assist in getting himself a better understanding of just how the stupid magic worked.

When the third round of testing rolls around he makes no effort to dress up, though he does leave his hat at home - something about it being nice if people didn't have to struggle to see his face. Even his hair isn't done up in any way, still long and flowing down his back after last month's festival.

He waits at the spot designated to him to meet his 'date' for the day, arms crossed and not looking approachable in the slightest. Whether his date ends up being someone he knows or someone new he offers the same curt response.]

Let's get this over with, shall we.

A BOY AND HIS BUG: KINDA BUG AND KINDA SNACK

[lyingstars]

[It's laughable, how the month prior he had mentioned the electric beetles of his homeland and this one he had received a box of a few of them. Never would the Harbinger have thought he'd see them here, let alone be given enough of them for more than just a snack if he were particularly bored and feeling nostalgic.

At some point he even gets it in his head to just keep and breed the things, permanently have the feel of the land he once happily called home present in his apartment. A tank is easy enough to get and set up and it wasn't like onikabuto were terribly difficult to care for - being overly large but passive and easy going bugs, but they need more than just a tank, and if he's breeding them their various stages needed even more.

So Scaramouche can be found out and about Tokyo - hair wrapped around itself in a high ponytail held together with a pair of hairsticks, and a large purple beetle on his shoulder. While he's specifically looking for the items he needs for beetle care, he can also be found lounging around with his pet(?) and having a snack of the non insect variety while muttering to it.]

You better not make me regret this.

VISIONS OF THE FUTURE: ONE STEP FORWARD ONE STEP BACK

[lyingstars]

[The final week of the previous month had set Scaramouche back in his training, not by much, but enough that he felt the need to put in more time to his practices. The magic of this world holding his interest enough that he'd decided to master them upon encountering a teacher for Sora. That small neglected shrine was practically a second home to him, often busy training within or fixing up the exterior.

Once finished at the shrine he wanders off the path he walks along almost daily, to the place where the first vision he had was set. There's time before he needs to be elsewhere for the rest of his elemental teachings, so more practice into seeing what the future held seemed like an apt use of his time.

Transformative casting had somehow been the method he found worked best for him, which thankfully resulted in no more than a swap of clothes. His hair in some weird amalgamation of a messy bun and ponytail - like he got bored halfway through trying to tie it up with the mass amount he had and just said screw it. He really did need to get around to cutting it.

Those walking along the path may spot, just slightly off the trail, a flick of a sword, followed by a red circle of runes and clock hands as the Harbinger practices just how far into the future he can see.]

[vennessa]

[Vennessa is exploring, walking a path she hasn't trodden before near a small shrine that she had come across a few times. By now she has thoroughly adopted a native style of dress when she's just spending time looking around, with no doubt that if pressed she would be able to fight in it too.

As she walks the path she spots the shine of a sword out of the corner of her eye and turns her head towards it, frowning a little. Just who would be out here doing any kind of training?

At first she thinks she should just keep moving. That would have been what most people would do in such a situation. However Vennessa, the Dandelion Gladiator of Mondstadt, is not most people and so steps off the path to make her way towards the user of the sword.

She does keep her distance, though is well within view by the time she comes across Scaramouche.

And-- just what has she found here?]

[lyingstars]

[Ever since Scaramouche’s first vision he’s struggled to see particularly far into the future, things often coming out so muddled that can can’t make heads or tails of it. It’s something he’s been assured is normal, the varying levels of clarity that come with visions the further you try to go, but that doesn’t make it any less frustrating.

What he’d like is to accurately see more than just a portion of what’s going to happen in his day, or even the next. When he tries to look a week in advance or further is when things start growing dark and hard to see. It’s hard to make out who’s who and where he is in the mess of things - close future seems to be his limits for the time being.

It doesn’t stop him from trying and for a moment the Sixth thinks he may be getting somewhere, seeing rather clearly in his mind, a woman. When the circle of runes fade and he opens his eyes noticing said woman standing not too far off, he realizes that he’s had the most useless vision to date.

That fact alone manages to pull a groan out of him, his free hand rubbing at his temple. Mastering visions was going to need a lot more work.]

Can I help you with something?

[vennessa]

Oh!

[There's a lot to take in, here. From the strange magic, to the clothes this person is wearing, to the... fact that they seem to be male. The latter thing, given the clothes and the long hair (which she finds herself admiring) is probably the most surprising.

Vennessa straightens up, shaking her head.]

No, I don't think so, only...

[Hmm...]

What exactly are you doing?

[lyingstars]

[Eyes narrow as he takes a moment to properly look the woman over - she's not someone he recognizes, so a native perhaps, though he'd assume she'd have more experience witnessing the magic of this world if she were. Another refugee then, someone either with little knowledge in magics or playing dumb.

Of course Sora didn't seem to be the most commonly used, nor did spells appear the same for everyone in his experience, so it could stand to reason that she knew and it was merely his own methods confusing her. He decides that he doesn't really care.]

I'm practising magic. Specifically peering into the future.

[Scaramouche definitely seems proud of this fact, despite his frustrations just moments ago.]

[vennessa]

[She hasn't been here for long enough to get a hang of the magic that Nippon has to offer. In truth she's been struggling to start with picking it up - like something in her tells her that without a Vision it shouldn't be something she's capable of to begin with. Though... she has been trying. It's difficult to know where to begin.]

Wow, really?

[Vennessa steps out of the tree line, clasping her hands behind her back. She's notably barefoot - more so because she's carrying her shoes attached to each other and slung over her shoulder - and the hem of her skirt disturbs the grass as she steps over it.]

That's amazing. Is it terribly difficult?

CLOSED TO KAZUHA

[lyingstars]

[There’s plenty about October that Scaramouche detests, a feeling becoming a common occurrence with each passing month. It’s turning into a routine at this point, not having been around long enough for a different experience — start the month off well only for everything to go to shit. He particularly isn’t fond of feeling weak and nearly dying on multiple occasions.

Hate is what he feels for being completely out for multiple days unable to wake. That he had to fall in front of Kazuha of all people only makes his mood more sour thinking on it. The only positive Scaramouche can honestly find in that mess is at least it wasn’t in front of Tartaglia, but that in of itself is a whole other matter he doesn’t want to think on.

November barely has a chance to begin and he’s already written it off, expecting things to take a turn for the worst sooner or later. It spurs him on into cramming as much as he can into a day, not bothering for much time to rest. There are things that need doing and he’s not going to let potential time constraints stop that.

It’s perhaps a week into the month when Scaramouche finally forces himself to contact Kazuha, not entirely sure it’s the best idea but the thought constantly hammering itself into the corner of his mind.

By all means he kept his promise, he showed up to the mortal’s birthday as he said he would, he simply didn’t play the promised song for reasons far outside of his control. Kazuha couldn’t fault him for that, he should just leave things as is and consider his promise technically fulfilled. He’s sure he managed at least one note before his mind was lost to the dark.

Yet it bothers him, an irritation prickling over his skin only to further dampen his mood when he was already so easy to set off on a normal day. He doesn’t usually make agreements like the one he’d made with the vagrant, he’s also — despite what people tend to think of him — not prone to lying often.

For some reason Kazuha agrees to meet with him — in Osaka so he has to bring the shamisen with him when he heads over to the West, like he wanted to sit with it for hours on the train. A train ride he gets so frustratingly bored with that he actually takes the time to put his hair up into high ponytail to stop himself from braiding and unbraiding the ends. Keeping his hands busy by playing the instrument was an option, but he wasn’t about to give the other passengers a free show.

Regardless it’s too late to back out now when he’s already gone through the trouble of lugging it around, and his feet take him to the spot they’d agreed upon without much input from his buzzing mind.

Once this was over and done with maybe he’d finally be able to focus.]

[leafwhistle]

[If he was being honest with himself, Kazuha had low expectations of Scaramouche in terms of anticipating he would follow through with his word. He'd been embarrassed to be surprised when the Fatuus actually showed up for dinner on his birthday, shamisen in hand, and even more ashamed when he'd collapsed for the effort. He hasn't been sure what to make of that.

What could he make of that?

What could he…

So unexpected it was to be contacted after that humiliation that Kazuha had been too startled to decline, and such later the samurai has found himself waiting at Ebisu bridge in Osaka, looking over the side as the water below as he waits for the other Inazuman. As the air has gotten crisp and colder, he still hasn't changed his outfit much, just wearing hakama that are more traditional in length for this outing.

The lights from the nearby buildings glint off the water like colorful stars, seeming to drown out the ones in the sky. The samurai lets a crimson maple leaf flutter from his hand, catching the wind for a moment — with a little help from his vision, leaves made of elemental energy nudging it along — before it's allowed to fall to the water below.

Even in the crowd of people, Kazuha smells Scaramouche when he starts to get close. He's been around him enough he can recognize him through most other sights and sounds, and so as the other arrives on the bridge, he's been waiting for him, arms crossed and with a soft smile on his face.]

Ah, Scaramouche-san. Was your journey well?

[He closes the distance between them, reaching for him to fix the strap attached to the shamisen to be more comfortable with familiarity now.]

[lyingstars]

[The bridge is busier than Scaramouche expects. He can see plenty of people meeting up, conversing and waiting around. It makes the area quite noisy. He's not sure how he's supposed to find the samurai in all of it, but somehow the other man manages to find him. His nose perhaps? An odd enough trait that he remembers it.

Where Kazuha has changed his outfit slightly due to the change in weather, the Harbinger has made no alterations to his own, still clad in his usual shorts - he either doesn't get cold easily or he's so attached to his outfit that he'll suffer for it.

He barely makes a sound as he's met with a soft smile and fussing over the strap on the shamisen, merely turning his head as he waits for Kazuha to satisfy himself with whatever he felt needed to be done. The samurai had been respectful enough with his choice of name today, so he'll allow the rather bold display as though they were friends after everything that had happened.

What were they at this point? Honestly he's not sure.

Friends made it sound like he cared, like the human had wormed his way into his life and behind the walls he'd built up around himself, but they weren't just acquaintances. Not anymore. The bond, the familiarity at which they acted, how was he expected to place a term to it. To place whatever was going on in his own head.]

You made me carry a shamisen on a train for hours, what do you think?

[Finally Scaramouche scoffs, shooing the other man's hands away and shaking himself from his thoughts. That familiar attitude the Sixth tends to carry is quickly put on as he rests a hand on his hip and gestures around them.]

You don't want me to play here do you?

[They're close enough that the sound of the shamisen should rise over the sound of the people, but the Harbinger imagined Kazuha would have chosen someplace a little more quiet.]

[leafwhistle]

[It's not until Scaramouche bats his hand away that Kazuha realizes how readily and comfortably he'd reached out and touched the other Inazuman, his ears twinging pink. He glances away briefly, smile masking his embarrassment as he looks out over the water one last parting time.]

I know the train is unpleasant as it is normally. [Kazuha, wasn't that just you?] At the very least, I can assist if you need now.

[The bridge is quite crowded and to Kazuha's sensitive ears, very noisy. This wasn't an ideal spot to play music at all, unless of course you were attempting to draw a crowd. He's seen some musicians play for street tips before, but his sandals clack softly on the ground as he takes a step back away more into the path.

Just like his usual demeanor, he didn't appear to be in a rush to get anywhere, despite there being limited time in the day.]

Truthfully, I just heard this was a good spot to meet with people. It's quite lovely, but it's a bit noisy and bright for my tastes. I have a park in mind, though it's a little far. I'll pay for transport.

[For once, he isn't going to make Scaramouche walk a place. That's because he's aware they don't have all the time in the world for this.

He turns, starting to lead the way to where he saw the rickshaws, but then he pauses, smiling over his shoulder.]

You're looking a lot better, Scaramouche-san. I'm glad.

[lyingstars]

It's not my favourite thing.

[The train isn't something Scaramouche would travel on as often as he does if there was another method available to him that was as swift. Though it's for an entirely different reason than the samurai held - he simply doesn't like dealing with people, and it wasn't always possible for a ride to go without any interaction or someone doing something to get on his nerves. The time spent with limited things to do, didn't help matters.

Eyes follow Kazuha's gaze out to the water and the Sixth thinks that the chosen meeting location isn't so bad. Too overcrowded for sure - packed full of people that it's hard to see the appeal in it - bright colours in all directions, but not boring. The location was far from dull, and while he wouldn't admit it, had its own beauty, even if enduring the crowd took away from it. Perhaps the reason so many people gathered here in the first place.]

You know you could have simply told me to meet you there.

[He shrugs, falling into step alongside the other Inazuman. What did it matter if Kazuha wanted to spend money to get to where they should have just agreed to meet in the first place. The man was baffling, something that didn't seem likely to change, and Scaramouche doesn't quite understand why he does the things he does. He doesn't think he ever will understand.

Kazuha is a weirdo.

While generally baffling, there is one thing that the man is exceptionally good at and that's grabbing his attention, uttering words like he actually cared what happened to him at the end of last month. Daring to look like he cared that the vanishing of the stars affected him in the way it had. It brings a small frown to his face, stomach churning and he can't determine whether he's still sick or if it's something else. It's pathetic how easy it is for Kazuha to make him feel strange, with no desire to try and sort out his emotions or what else could potentially be wrong.]

The stars are no longer killing me, or whatever it is they were doing. I wouldn't have been allowed out if I wasn't better.

[Not that it had stopped him before he wound up completely unconscious.

The Harbinger moves through the crowd, wanting to get to the rickshaws as quickly as possible, Kazuha will catch up. He wants to move on past this, and if he mutters out a quick apology it's because he wants to. It's because he feels like it, and he does whatever it is he pleases.]

Sorry... for passing out at your party.

[leafwhistle]

[Scaramouche's complaint about their location of meeting is met only with Kazuha's pleasant smile.]

I wanted to see the bridge too.

[Similarly, Kazuha does things he pleases, when he pleases. He chose the bridge only because he'd yet to see it and heard it was a nice sight. Now that he has seen it, he doesn't regret spending the time to see the lights reflected off the water, but he was ready to leave to somewhere less crowded.

He's grown used to the Fatuus' frowns now, though the particularly ill expression the other sports has the samurai nursing a little bit of concerned curiosity again. Why did Scaramouche sometimes look so ill around him? It may be lingering weakness, and for a moment Kazuha wonders if his soul may need repairing. After all, Aether had experienced a broken soul.

The apology is unexpected and he isn't even given much time to respond to it. He's not expecting him to walk so quickly ahead, and for a moment Kazuha makes no effort to increase his pace. After all, it wasn't like Scaramouche was going anywhere without him, so he'd just have to wait for him anyway.

He catches up, eventually, though his cheeks are twinged pink when he does.]

It's fine, really... You were the only one who showed up.

[How pathetic is it that the Fatuus was the only one who made it to his birthday? He had Beidou and the crew, of course, but he was hoping some other people he'd thought he'd grown close to would be there. That makes his chest ache a little, and Kazuha's expression grows more soft and pleasant in aggressive contrast to it.

It doesn't take long to get to the rickshaws, and after a moment of explaining where they want to go to the driver, Kazuha climbs in and scoots to the side to make room for Scaramouche to climb in next to him.]

How much time do you have?

CLOSED TO EI

[lyingstars]

[Days have passed since Scaramouche fell unconscious, unable to rouse himself from the dark like he often did. Days of wasted time and his body has the nerve to feel groggy when he finally comes to at the end of the festival. A few more days still that he’s back in the East, and feeling better than he felt for the entirety of that final week of last month.

As soon as he’s able to head out of the apartment he does, needing to stave off the boredom and play catch up in the time wasted when he was unable to do anything. And honestly anything to get himself outside again, not enjoying the feeling of being cooped up.

It’s when the Sixth is out getting groceries — one of his first days back to being a fully functioning person with no issues — that a store that wouldn’t normally catch his eye, does. The place is no more than a small clothing shop, nothing he would usually waste his time on, but the sight of a certain outfit gives him pause.

His thoughts go to his creator, and he almost trips over his own feet from the shock. What reasons does he have for her to even be in his mind, their relationship as complicated as it is. Ignoring the fact that she had taken care of him for a week, that she had actually felt present in his life for once, he should have little reason for his thoughts to shift to her — at the sight of some clothes of all things.

It feels like hours that he stands there debating with himself, the part of him that feels almost thankful for Ei taking the time to look after him when he wasn’t able to, winning out.

Scaramouche doesn’t do gifts, but just this once wouldn’t kill him. Or so he tells himself when he finally returns home, and finds himself standing awkwardly outside of her room.]

Ei?

[formyeternity]

[ Even once things had returned to some semblance of 'normal', it wasn't as if time could erase what had happened. Kunikuzushi had seemed so fragile and like if she didn't tend to him that he'd fade away and it'd been a thought that stuck with her.

There was a palpable fear underlying them, and maybe that was why she ended up staying home alone when he'd left to go get groceries that Ei found herself in her room alone. a hand had clutched at her chest, mind thinking back to the many times in her past when she'd lost someone close to her and that while it wasn't perfect? She cared a lot for him and if he were to die?

Simply the thought alone wrapped itself around her very thoughts and she ran a hand through her hair. Truly, was this what having an actual son was like?

What was between them was this delicate balance where she was doing her best to be present in his life without making it seem too obvious as to why she was doing it. She allowed him to carry the gnosis, a valuable item that only one other person than her had ever held onto. It frustrated her that she couldn't express herself better to him, or verbalize just how much he truly did mean to her along with the very honest and real regrets of having discarded him years ago.

Only as Ei heard him call her name did she sit up, smoothing out the kimono she was wearing before getting to her feet. ]

Yes? What is it?

[ Even as she'd spoken, she already had taken steps to head towards the door and if he didn't? Would open it without a second thought. ]

[lyingstars]

[It's a foolish idea really, a gift for his creator as though they were close enough for such things. He knew so little about her, his own doing as even living together didn't make him seek her out more than was necessary. Still there was plenty that Scaramouche has learned about her in his time here - more than he ever thought he'd know that was certain - but he wouldn't say it was enough to know her likes and dislikes, barring the obvious.

Scaramouche has little experience when it comes to giving gifts, it's a rare enough occurrence that he could likely count the times on one hand. There's too few he's been close with for such things, and gifts were not the norm in how he showed appreciation. But it's too late to turn back now, having already called out. He can't help but feel a twinge of regret in the back of his mind, that perhaps this was a bad idea. Would Ei even like what he had picked out?

When the Harbinger gets a response he swallows hard, quickly pushing the door open in hopes that the sooner he got it over with, the sooner that uneasy feeling would dissipate. His eyes - an unusual mix of purple in the indigo - dart from Ei to the floor, as he holds out the neatly folded outfit.]

For... helping me that week.

[formyeternity]

[ Ei had only come within a foot or so of the door when it'd been pushed open and sure enough? There he was, but wasn't holding onto something like food for her - since sometimes she could forget herself and not eat due to spending so long without necessarily needing to.

Instead of what she'd expected, there was a folded outfit being held out to her.

Her eyes widened in surprise, though it didn't stop her from closing the distance between them in order to gently accept it. Once in her hands, she held it carefully and unfolded it so she could see all there was to it. There were shades of purple, blacks and beautiful butterfly details adorning it in a few places, and the material felt so soft beneath her fingertips. ]

Ah... You... really got this for me?

[ Her face immediately fills with happiness as a soft, light laugh escaped her lips. Ei then moved to drape it over one arm before moving to hug him gently, small purple-tinted sakura blossoms swirling about for a moment. ]

Thank you so much. It's beautiful.

[lyingstars]

[What Scaramouche expects to happen is handing over the gift, perhaps gaining a thank you, and then ending the interaction there. That Ei seems pleased with the outfit is a good start, at least having managed to pick out something she doesn't hate. However her appreciation for the gift leads to something far unexpected.

His creator is hugging him and he hates how that twists up something inside him, pulls at a feeling that shouldn't exist. He should hate her - he certainly doesn't trust her - for all that she's done to him, that he does is something he has to constantly tell himself.

There's nothing she can do to make up for all that had been done, he's merely appreciative of her taking care of him, ensuring he kept on living. The gift was for that and that alone, he wasn't getting soft. He would never be weak like that again. He repeats the words in his head over and over like a mantra, like it would stop the storm that rages within him whenever he tries to make sense of anything involving his creator and how he feels.]

Stop that. This doesn't change anything, I just... thank you.

[Despite his words, Scaramouche makes no effort to actually stop the hug from continuing, though he doesn't return it. His feelings conflicting enough to at least allow it to happen, even if his gaze doesn't move from the floor.]

I'm... glad you like it.

CLOSED TO DILUC

[lyingstars]

[The sight of a peculiar hat and the soft chime of bells isn't uncommon in Kyoto, the Balladeer a frequent visitor despite not living in the area. Taking an early interest in magic shortly after his arrival, most of his visits tend to take a more work oriented tone, often only exploring once his studies have finished for the day. With a distinct lack of chaos for the month so far, he finds himself spending even more time in the West, doing a mixture of both study and exploration.

It's in a moment of exploration that Scaramouche finds himself stopped by an old woman - actually holding a conversation with a native that isn't about magic, eventually assisting said native with lifting a few things. An act that likely seems out of character for those familiar with his more sour personality, but he does as asked with a pleasant smile and idle chatter.

It isn't until he's finished helping that the look vanishes - briefly as though he's been caught off guard by something that's been said - before it's quickly replaced with a more wistful smile and he sets off, hat tilted downward.

Where he finds his feet take him is a park, mind focused on worming his way into the trees and out of sight. The thoughts swarming his head aren't anything new, though they've been steadily growing more and more intense the longer he's been in Nippon - the longer he's had the Gnosis.

An offhanded comment should never leave him feeling vulnerable, throat growing tight and eyes burning in a manner he no longer thought possible. Yet he can't help himself from weakly hitting a tree when he feels he's sufficiently out of sight, electricity crackling along his arm. He can't bring himself to care when his hat falls from his head as he slides down to the ground, body pressed against the trunk and tears spilling from his eyes.

Everything feels wrong.]

[phoenixblessed]

[Just as he had known who Childe was before the first time they met face to face, he knows Scaramouche as well. Little about him save for his name and rank as a harbinger, but for Diluc that is more than enough to keep an eye on him when he happens to see him passing through Kyoto.

He hadn't been ruffled enough by the man's presence in Nippon to actively seek him out, but it's that same hatred-rooted instinct that rears up every time he sees Tartalglia that prompts him to tail after the Balladeer without much thought as to why he's doing it save for to get some kind of measure on the kind of person that he might be. One can tell a lot about someone else through observation after all, if they know what to look out for.

That he is surprised by the pedestrian manner in which Scaramouche conducts himself only fires up his suspicions of him. He's still stinging from the persistent inability he has to hate Childe as much as he wants to and he'll be damned if he's going to go soft on a second Fatuus while he's here.

When he follows the smaller man's steps to an almost entirely deserted park, his mind is peculiarly clear of both anger and reason. What exactly does he think he's going to do if he catches up to him? Is he going to say anything at all, or just walk by as if they just happened to be going in the same direction? He isn't really thinking of doing much except that, until he notes Scaramouche veering off the path and into the trees.

Diluc talks himself out of drawing his weapon. He even almost talks himself out of continuing to follow. There's no point, he scolds himself. What do you think you're going to do when you're face to face with him anyway? Yet he does reach the tree line, stops, moves a little ways in.

Stops again, in time to see Scaramouche's fist hit the tree. To see him sink down to his knees and to see that, for no reason Diluc can ascertain, he's... crying.

And Gods, Diluc hates the twist of pity that he feels for that.

The Vision at his hip glints red, glows briefly, but no fire follows. His eyes narrow for a moment and... he should just leave, probably. This doesn't look like something he wants to get involved in. He doesn't want a reason to not despise this one too (realising that, really, he already has his reason) but despite that he doesn't retreat.

Instead, he softly clears his throat to announce his presence. Nothing he could say comes to mind that doesn't feel petty or ridicuous even to himself.]

[lyingstars]

[Scaramouche remembers a time of naivety, of a fragile innocence he held so long ago, before the cruelty of life came crashing down around him. Back when he was weak and still learning how the world worked, how people worked. He doesn't feel as though he'll ever be so weak again in his lifetime, but something about finally grabbing hold of his purpose comes close.

The Gnosis isn't anything like he ever imagined, instead of his greatest desire he's been left feeling empty, chest aching with the lies and negativity present within the damned chess piece. Within what was supposed to be his heart. He can't stop the tears, not even bothering to fight them as he turns over the thoughts in his head, of why the Gnosis could possibly feel so wrong when it was what he was made for.

He barely registers that someone else is there, mentally scolding himself for not noticing, not hearing, and allowing him to be seen in such a state. A hand scrubs over his eyes in a poor attempt at saving appearance, but it helps little when the tears wiped away are merely replaced by more. There's no recognition when he looks the man over, though the Vision at least places him as someone from Teyvat.

Just his luck.]

...What do you want?

[phoenixblessed]

[What does he want?

Once again he finds himself in what feels like a perfect position to take out someone with the potential to cause untold harm, and once again he finds that he hesitates. Just when did he grow so soft that he can't put a blade to a Harbinger when they are right in front of him, just because they are showing a little vulnerability?

There has to be more to it than a honourable desire to not cause harm to people who are in a state of weakness, no matter how much he might like to.]

Why are you crying?

[Does he care? No, not really, but he can pretend to for the sake of his own curiosity. His experience of Harbingers hasn't led him to believe they are the kinds of people who hide so they can have emotional outbursts like the one the Balladeer is clearly having right now.]

[lyingstars]

[There's the pain of loss, of lies twisting over each other like a curse wound tight in his chest, and Scaramouche can't help but focus on how this wasn't what he wanted. Years of searching, yearning for a heart only to be left feeling like this - desire unfulfilled but unable to do anything about it. He wants to rip it out, scream and ask his creator why, but there's a fear there of what would happen if he did. How broken would ripping out his only heart leave him? Would he even feel again if he did?

Perhaps if he did he wouldn't be dealing with unending tears in front of a man he didn't know. He'd be able to steel himself like he always does, walls built so high that he comes across as no more than cruel. He wouldn't seem weak like he certainly did now.

Yet the Harbinger can't even muster up a steady voice, sounding soft and shaky much to his horror.]

You're human, what does it matter to you?

[A hand reaches out to grab the edge of his hat, though Scaramouche looks more likely to run than get up and challenge whoever this man from Teyvat was.]

You have a heart, it's not like you'd understand.

[phoenixblessed]

[... Interesting.

Diluc doesn't answer immediately. In the few moments of silence before he gives any reply a multitude of thoughts pass through his mind, information gathered over years of searching quietly reordering itself around those two small and yet entirely important pieces of information that the Balladeer had just given.]

That's a lot of emotion for someone with no heart.

[He realises he's prying, but there's very little care in him for how doing so might sting at the other man. Were he a simple stranger, someone Diluc knew nothing about, he might have taken more care in his words but he knows enough about Scaramouche to make a statement that he knows might hurt, and to not care if it does.

But he's curious, too, because unlike Childe - who he had known enough about to form a fairly good picture of him before they even met - this Harbinger has always been something of an enigma. And this... was not what he expected.]

So what is it that I'm not supposed to understand?