|| The Harbinger's Guest ||

|| Part 8 ||

They reached the room after Scaramouche directed them to a back entrance, travelling up without too many eyes seeing them. They were aware that the chances of no other Harbinger knowing about their appearance together was close to nothing. They just prayed that no one saw what had happened out in the snow.

Aether was freezing, but he managed to collect some warmth from Scaramouche, who leant on him during most of the journey. Aether knew that Scaramouche didn't generate any body heat; the warmth must have been from the electricity still buzzing within him.

He noticed that somehow, his window had been fixed within the short while that they were gone. Aether ignored it, and helped Scaramouche onto the bed.

"Stop," Scaramouche breathed. "This is your bed."

"You need it more," Aether replied, walking over to the fireplace. He lit it up with ease, and a small flame started. He went to put more wood on the fire.

"It would be just as useful as leaving me on the floor," Scaramouche groaned. He sat up against the bed frame.

Aether walked back to the other side of the bed, sitting on top of it. "What happened?"

Scaramouche paused for a moment. He sighed. "When... when we fought, I used up almost all of my strength. I couldn't use much more power without bringing myself down. After I took out that machine just then... I had nothing left to give. I was exhausted."

Aether narrowed his eyes. For a moment, he thought the 'fight' he mentioned was the one from that afternoon. Then he remembered. "Well, what was that thing?"

"It's called something like... a Ruin Warden. At least, that's what Sandrone calls them. She designed them, and they used to be a part of the Fatui. Now, they just... wander around the place," Scaramouche explained.

That doesn't seem very safe, Aether thought to himself. Especially for run-aways. "Do you need anything? I can try find you some tea."

Scaramouche shook his head. "Don't bother."

Scaramouche closed his eyes, leaning back with an uncomfortable look on his face. Aether motioned to get off the bed, until he felt a hand grab his wrist.

Scaramouche's hand was lightly holding Aether's wrist. "You can't leave."

"I won't," Aether promised, slowly pulling his hand away.

Scaramouche held on to it tighter. "I need to know that you're here. I can't watch you, and you can't leave."

Aether paused, and then nodded. He sat back up onto the bed as Scaramouche shifted himself to lie down. His eyes fought to stay open.

"Scaramouche," Aether began, lying down next to him as Scaramouche closed his eyes, his expression somehow still frustrated while he tried to sleep. "I need to ask you for a favour."

Scaramouche squeezed Aether's arm in response, his eyebrows still furrowed.

"I don't want to be here, and I think you don't want me here either," Aether explained. "I won't do anything to trouble you if you help me get out."

Scaramouche said nothing. Later, was the only message Aether received from his mind.

Aether moved around as Scaramouche's hand remained around his arm, holding it limply. Aether maintained a comfortable distance, trying his best not to disrupt Scaramouche's attempt at sleeping. He didn't seem very used to it.

"I'm not good at... speaking, Scaramouche," Aether admitted quietly. "This isn't my first language."

Scaramouche's eyes opened, only slightly. They looked up at Aether, and he couldn't tell any malicious intent behind those eyes. He couldn't tell what it was Scaramouche was feeling.