Step On Me | Scaramouche x Reader

Porcelain

HI
Bro sometimes I feel like scara is so cringe but I'm usually using his voice lines or things I feel like he'd say but bro just stop being emo [I love emos‼️] NOT PROOFREAD
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Morning, y/n.

Al Haitham and I are currently out. Please help yourself to anything!

P.S: I'm sorry if our fighting kept you up :(

You sighed, placing the note down. It's time to leave, you've probably overstayed your welcome. You'll bring a treat next time around, as a sign of gratitude.

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Scaramouche sketched absentmindedly on the notebook originally meant for studying. The dark leather cover torn in some areas due to Scaramouche throwing it at the walls in rage.

he huffed in boredom and harshly slammed his pen down onto the page, now filled with drawings of little bugs.

Studying for courses in the akademiya was certainly not the most enthralling thing to partake in. Scaramouche would suffice, he could say he was the only genuine intelligent person- no, more like object there. Hah, to think that a mere puppet had more sense than the average human.

What could he do, anything, other than go over useless material. Useless in the sense that an artefact such as him wouldn't already know. Vahumana; the course of which he treads, one of the six darshans of the akademiya, contains mostly the study of history. What wouldn't an immortal like him know? He'd witnessed much in his lifetime that dated back to years even he couldn't recount. Sure, he wasn't aware of absolutely everything, though it wouldn't cost him anything to slack off from time to time.

The crack along his synthetic porcelain skin.

That of which he refused to acknowledge, to spare a second glance. Luckily for him, it was hidden under his garments, as it was located on his left shoulder.

There was once a time when he needn't worry about such a trivial matter, for an acquaintance possessed the knowledge on how to take care of it.

He wished to exterminate any recollection of that godforsaken manipulator. A much more fitting title would be a psycho. Scaramouche had fallen pray to the doctor, otherwise known as Il Dottore.

Scaramouche was all but a lab rat to dottore, taken in by the doctor himself to seek refuge in the organisation of the fatui. Though, Scaramouche was no longer affiliated with that group, and any contribution or marks of his existence amongst them had been long forgotten.

Scaramouche knew he had to get it resolved, as much he wished to pretend it didn't exist, for if his limb came off entirely there would be no replacements.

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"It's been a while since I last saw you here in the teapot." Aether smiled softly at Scaramouche. "What brings you back?" He inquired, slightly wary of Scaramouche.

"I need to get... something fixed." He stated blankly.

"Something? That's vague." Aether questioned suspiciously. "Well, if that's what needs to be done then you should go to Y/n. They're experienced in that sort of stuff."

Scaramouche sighed. Just his luck, he had to speak to you about the incident anyway. "Are they here as of now?"

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The sound of a knock against the oak wood door reverberated around the moderately small room. You were confused as to who would be here for you at this time; as you'd finished your business with the traveler for the day. It wasn't all too late, seemingly early into the evening.