Palimpsest

Part VI

The being once called Scaramouche, now named [------], could often be observed in the oddest spots. He gravitated, for lack of a better word, toward the edges of places, sitting on the ledges of platforms and the peaks of buildings and buttresses. Regardless of the alienation he was intent on inflicting on himself, Buer proved to be his only exception; whenever she called, he would reply, albeit flippantly, and she would turn to find him at her side.

He would always look displeased when he realized what he'd done, put off by his own obedience in a way that left his lip curling, but he wouldn't distance himself any further than a single step away from her. When the day was bright and he drew closer than usual, Buer would sometimes imagine that his hand would reach for hers. It would pull back in the end, but the thought was something she cherished.

If she'd had more time with the little puppet, she often lamented, perhaps her daydreams would have eventually been made reality. It didn't help that he was intent on remaining near her. His company wasn't unwanted; it never was and she would never allow it to be.

It was a reminder. That was all.

She called for him one day on the outskirts of Sumeru City, having spied him perched on a branch just above her. He landed beside her without so much as a thud, gripping the brim of his hat tightly. He was smirking as he came to her side, walking along with her as she began down the only path she knew around the city.

As they went, Buer caught the curiosity set into the tilt of his head as he regarded her carefully, especially when he thought she wasn't looking. Having spent much of their walk in silence, she almost jumped when he finally spoke.

"I didn't think you'd come to seek me, of all people. Weren't you supposed to be off with the Traveler today?"

"Yes, I was, but I felt like taking a walk. With you," she added.

She watched as something curled within him, a spiral of reasoning that wouldn't unwind itself in a way that fit right in his chest.

"You canceled your plans with the Traveler... to take a walk with me?"

"Am I not allowed to?"

The look he gave her was one she couldn't read. Contemplative, maybe? Definitely surprised. "It's just, I thought we would nev..." he hesitated. "Nevermind."

"We would—?"

"It's nothing."

"I will always listen if you want to—"

"Let it go. I said it's nothing. So it's nothing."

Buer bit her lip, a poor disguise of worry. Her words, however, were every bit as reassuring as she could make them. "Alright. I won't ask."

He regarded her with a placid expression, a small, discerning 'hm' escaping him before he continued along. She wouldn't be able to place what it was, not until later, but something about the sight overwhelmed her; Buer didn't move to follow.

A few seconds was all he needed before he noticed her absence, absently searching for her the way he always would when he had a nightmare, back when he couldn't remember his own name. She knew how he would find her, unmoving as she was, stuck in place by a memory she couldn't touch. His brows knit; there was no distress in the movement, as if he knew how he should react but didn't understand why he should act that way.

"Buer?"

Glass eyes stared back at her, empty. The line of his shoulders was—Buer forced herself to stop. They weren't the same.

She wiped at her cheeks, ignoring the moisture glossing her fingers as she forced herself to smile.

"I'm fine. I was just... remembering something."

There was a note of sadness in the way he held himself as he stood there, just looking at her. It was like he was trying to see through her. The more he looked, the more suffocating it felt to be standing there, drowning in an oasis of unimaginable depth. He sighed eventually, understanding—but not quite accepting—that she wouldn't be more forthcoming.

For a time, they simply wandered, following Buer's instincts as she guided them along a mostly traveled path and into a ravine. As she padded along, roots reached at her feet, stones sank into mud beneath her weight, and then... then they were at the edge of a pond, the edges of it shrouded with Brightwood Trees.

She knew this spot. Remembered it so perfectly that it was etched into the very fiber of her being, held it within her heart so tightly that even the waters of Lethe couldn't wipe it from her memory. Buer could almost see the echo play out in front of her, a bird clutched in her past self's arms as she led the little puppet's hands toward it.

She hadn't meant to lead them here. The world started to sway beneath her and she closed her eyes, feeling blindly for a rock to lean against.

Instead she felt cool fabric, tugged just out of her reach the moment it met her touch. Buer's eyes flew open, vision filling with blue. She took a step back and fumbled, only to feel the warmth of a breeze at her back, keeping her from tumbling. A light turquoise glow filled the air until she was steady on her feet.

Buer felt rather than saw his scowl.

"Tch. You can't find a place to sit if you can't see."

She looked down at her feet, scolded, hands knotting the sides of her dress. Water lapped at her bare heels, cool beneath the shade. If not for him, she would have fallen into the pond. Buer relaxed with a huff, thoroughly drained, and she watched as the puppet mirrored her, a tension she hadn't noticed within him being released. She took a step deeper into the water, letting it kiss at her ankles. Grateful as she was from being dunked, a little water wouldn't hurt her. She was already wet, anyway.

To her surprise, he joined her in the water, but not before warily tugging off his shoes as if going barefoot was an affront to, well, everything.

She felt warmth bubble inside her and she laughed, a light sound that filled the ravine.

And he smiled.

And for once, the hands which she would never hold didn't seem so far away.

She pushed down the desire to take his hand and bring him closer to her side.

The story of the little puppet and the lonely god was a secret Buer could never tell. She knew that well.

It was enough, she resolved, to have him content to stand near her.