Into Madness [Scaramouche x Fem!Reader]

Chapter 6 - Night

Restrained while leaning against a former harbinger was not the most comfortable way to wake up. 

You came to in such a state, more bandages from your first aid kit hindering your movement. Scaramouche sat beside you, his eyes casting a faint glow as you leaned on his shoulder. You debated moving from your current position, but chose not to. It was better if he didn't notice your wakefulness, you could use that to your advantage.

Carefully, you studied the dark environment around you.

The surroundings shook, in a standard rhythm, and soft, yet coarse materials made up the walls. A moving vehicle, and within the inner layers, you supposed. It was probably fabric that padded the surfaces around you, and you closed your eyes to rely on your hearing. 

You were on ragged terrain, whatever it was that held both of you occasionally bumping along the ground while mostly progressing in a smooth pattern. Then, it dawned on you -- a cargo balloon! The fabric must've been ones that coated the carrier, which explained the lack of. Muffled sounds of water revealed a stream nearby, and occasional birdsong heralded that you must be near woodland as well.

Unfortunately, closing your eyes and reaching out your senses also meant that you were keenly aware of the fact that you were on Scaramouche's shoulder, the soft fabric and warmth ever so slightly emanating from him more and more noticeable. His breath softly grazed your face, and you took it as confirmation that he breathed. 

It was less than pleasant ending up on the puppet boy's shoulder, but him letting you do so must've meant the hostility between you had faded, you were so close to forming some sort of a bond. Carefully, you opened your eyes into narrow slits.

There wasn't much to see, anyway, but with the faint glow of his eyes being the only discernible light source, you found your gaze constantly lead in that very direction. You resolved not to look at him, not to look at the long lashes that fell around his features or the thoughtful expression he wore. But there wasn't much to do when you were squeezed in a tiny cargo balloon with someone else. Especially when that someone did have eyes that glowed. 

Without realizing it, you found yourself studying them, deep indigo hues stacking on top of each other. Luminous like stars in the night sky, dark like his soul (If he had one), they were perfect for the former harbinger. 

And goddamnit, they were pretty.

Scaramouche sat gazing straight in from of him, as if you being on his shoulder made him tense. Thanks to that distraction, he didn't notice you looking at his eyes, analyzing them. At least not before you noticed and pulled your gaze away.

What were you even doing? This was the very Balladeer the Tsaritsa ordered you to hunt down, but you had let him catch you instead. The faster you escaped and turned the tables around, the better. He must've known you would bring him to her, without hesitation, as well, landing both of you in this situation.

But then, why didn't he just leave you at that cave? More importantly, would you really turn him in, after everything?

You knew the answer in your mind; of course. Of course you would serve the archon you'd worshipped and worked for your entire life. No doubt, that was what you were supposed to do. You were a harbinger after all.

But then, why did a part of you not want to?

He'd tried to kill you, you'd tried to capture him, he caused the numerous fading wounds across your body and yet you'd saved him, multiple times, although it was all out of duty of course. He'd saved you as well, though who knew what he had in mind when he'd done so? 

Who knew what he'd been thinking when he ducked in front of you, his hat protecting both of you and his body clocking out the last of the impact. You recalled the flash of color, the rush of heat, and the deafening sound of the blast.