𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗸𝗲𝗿 ៸៸𓂃 scaramouche

∙ ୨୧ festival night : 24 !¡

◢◤◢◤◢◤ SCARAMOUCHE POV !

"Tartaglia—" Rosalyne had said between breaths, now doubled over with her hands on her knees. What about him? "Got his... got his head stuck in one of those photo things. I can't get him out."

Y/N only laughed, "What? Seriously? I have to see this."

"C'mon, he's making a scene."

Scaramouche started walking along with them when he heard his name being called. "Scaramouche! Come here, come here!" Ayaka waved him over. He looked between her and Y/N, tried to determine what was so important Ayaka wanted him.

"Don't worry, I'll get pictures. See what she needs." Y/N reassured him.

Scaramouche nodded. He went to join Ayaka, Sara, Kokomi, and Thoma. But he should have known something wasn't right when he saw Tartaglia and Yoimiya playing ring toss.

◢◤◢◤◢◤ YOUR POV !

now playing . . .
» old yeller : fokin osk «
0:00 ─〇───── 1:14
⇄ ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ ↻

"I didn't know they had a photo booth out here, we should take some photos after we free Childe!" You suggested, blissfully oblivious, even as Rosalyne quickened her pace and darkened her gaze.

"It's not here," She said, unlocking a car you hadn't seen before, "On the other side of the island, I figured driving would be quicker."

"Oh— well, fair enough."

You thought nothing of it when you got into the passenger seat, when a song you never heard before came on over the radio. Nothing felt off, maybe after tonight you should start questioning things more. Ask why, ask when. More importantly, ask where.

Take me out to the back of the shed. The boy on the radio said.

Shoot me in the back of the head.

Rosalyne drove for five minutes before you noticed you were getting further and further from the festival grounds. You pulled out your phone to text someone— Scaramouche, preferably.

Take me out to the back of the shed and shoot me in the back of the head.

private messages (scaramoucheee, u/n)

u/n
hey scara, smth feels wrong
seen

rosalyne's driving aw

Take me out to the back of the shed and shoot me in the motherfuckin' head, yeah.

You couldn't send the second message before Rosalyne took the phone out of your hand. You reached out to take it back, but she drove with one hand and held it away from you with the other. "What are you doing? What's going on?"

Bet you've never seen a wreck like this.

"Y/N, do you trust me?"

"Fuck, no." Your hand hovered over the seatbelt release and you tried to find where you could manually unlock the door. "What are you doing?"