[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.
CLOSED TO DILUC
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.]