|| The Harbinger's Guest ||

|| Part 7 ||

Author's note:
I know it's irresponsible to publish something without fully fact-checking how it works with the story, but I'll just warn you here. I haven't fully edited this, but I decided to share it anyway! Lols. Enjoy (at least try to enjoy).

:D

~

"How much longer will I stay here?" Aether asked, pacing around the room.

Scaramouche sat with a book in his hands, staring at the pages in his usual spot by the fire. His face was fixed in that same, unreadable expression. The book had something to do with stars, as Aether guessed by the constellations on the cover. He forgot that this room was more likely to be for Scaramouche than it would be for him. Scaramouche being interested in astronomy wasn't something Aether could have guessed.

"I can't say if my answer will be accurate," Scaramouche replied, flipping to the next page.

"Just say something for me to—" Aether stumbled, trying to find the words. "To... have an idea."

Scaramouche looked up. "What's wrong with you? Don't tell me you're going to start getting upset again."

Aether looked down, narrowing his eyes in frustration. "That's... not the problem."

"Then what is it? What else do you want?" Scaramouche drawled. "You're lucky that I'm here. Without me feeling pitiful of you, you would be in a much worse situation."

"Do you want me to thank you?" Aether countered. "I'm not in much of a... thanking mood."

"If you weren't so whiney, you might actually be a lot less miserable," Scaramouche hissed. "It took me a while to realise that the great Traveler was, in fact, just a weak child."

"The weak child that you lost to," Aether retorted.

"If I did, then why are you here?" Scaramouche snapped.

"Why don't you tell me?" Aether yelled. "Tell me! Why am I here?"

Scaramouche glared at Aether. His level of annoyance was above it's usual height, and Aether could tell my how his fingers pressed into the pages of his book, creasing them slightly.

"Please, Scaramouche," Aether asked, his tone shifting. "Just tell me."

"If this is about what Pantalone said, then just know I don't want anything to do with you," Scaramouche answered. "I have no ulterior motives for sharing a room with you. I'm only here to make sure you don't get into trouble. Do you understand that?"

Aether's hands turned into fists. "No."

He reached out and grabbed Scaramouche's wrist, his nails piercing his non-human skin. Scaramouche looked up in alarm.

You think that you're on my side, Aether messaged through his mind to Scaramouche. You want to help me.

"Let go of me," Scaramouche ordered, his voice faltering.

Why do you care? Aether asked. Why didn't you leave me with the Doctor?

"That's enough," Scaramouche breathed, tearing his wrist away from Aether's grip. He turned away, grabbing his hat from where it sat leaning beside his chair.

"You're leaving?" Aether questioned.

Scaramouche said nothing as he placed it on his head, carefully opening the door and stepping out. He was looking down, angling his face away from the Traveler. He shut the door behind him, leaving Aether standing in the middle of the room. Alone. Again.

Aether was still, his gaze fixed on the door that Scaramouche had stepped out of. He felt that pit in his stomach start to hurt more. He looked down at the book Scaramouche had left behind, and picked it up off the cushion. He stared at the stars printed onto the hard cover.