Beyond Repair (chiscara)

-Chapter one-

It was a foreign subject for Scaramouche, how one could be afraid of death.

In his eyes, it was the universe's first and final act of mercy, a freedom rather than the curse it was made out to be.

Nothing ever felt right, he never belonged.
Not even his "name" fit, addressing himself as Balladeer or Scaramouche felt like he was a different person altogether. Despite abandoning kunikuzushi by his own will, it still seemed to remain as his only true name. The only thing that ever belonged to him, gone, just like everything else.

Death was something that intrigued him, he craved it, yearned for it more than anything. Sometimes the thought pondered, thinking about his final moments, the makeshift blood he was filled with pouring out as his perfectly crafted body could no longer function. Whatever heart he had, stopping. The thought brought a slight smile to his face, his features were beautiful although usually plagued with something deeper than sadness, a sense of hurt and longing.

His cravings for death deepened by time, sometimes his memories haunted him so badly that his senses were invaded with the sweet dream of his consciousness slowly fading into the mercy of nothing.

Nothing makes him happy anymore

It never will.
——————
Fatui meetings were painfully slow and boring as per usual.
Pantalone wouldn't shut up about new ideas and possible plans, and dottore somehow felt the need to tell everyone about his new medicine that gives puppets the ability to feel sensations, emotions, and urges like humans can.

Scaramouche slumped down the hallway in a grouchy manner as dottore followed him, attempting to convince his coworker to try out the new medicine.

"No fucking way, I'm not your test dummy you psycho"

Dottore followed patiently. Akin to a dog with its tail between his legs.

"It'll be quick, you won't feel a thing...."

The pain isn't what he was worried about, scara scoffed at the failed reassurance attempt, storming into his room and slamming the door in Dottore's face to prove a point.

Fortunately, his angry threats could barely be heard thanks to Scaramouche's sound cancelling room, one of his previous demands for joining the fatui. (He didn't want to hear what the other harbingers would be doing late at night).

Upon turning around, he was greeted with the unpleasant imagery of his coworker rummaging through his draws. Arms folded, he waited patiently as Tartaglia realised he had been caught and pulled his best "I'm innocent" face.

"Scaramouchie! My bro, how are you dude?"

Scaramouche remained unimpressed as he raised his eyebrows slightly, a hint of amusement present.

Tartaglia didn't get the hint in the awkward silence and still attempted to create conversation, the topic change cover up being painfully obvious as he casually leaned against the desk he was previously rummaging through.

Scara smiled, the side of his lip curving up at the pathetic mess before him,
"Tartaglia, you have three seconds to get out"

He looked relieved that the other finally spoke to break the one sided silence and unwelcome tension, moving closer to Scara, he put a hand on his shoulder,
"Call me Childe"

Scaramouche scoffed, shoving his hand off effortlessly.
"Fits you, you act like one"

Childe smiled at the banter,
"Buddy-"

"We aren't friends." Scaramouche spat back, unforgiving.
Childe sighed,
"Well alright, I'll see you around"

He moved past Scaramouche, not getting far before being stopped by a hand gripping his shirt.
Scaramouche side-eyed him.
"What were you doing looking through my shit?"