glidinglight | For littlesilhouettoofaman

For littlesilhouettoofaman

Lumine hesitates outside the door of the Sanctuary of Surasthana. She stares down again at the special solution that Nahida instructed her to craft.

Is this really a good idea? Nahida seems to think so. But Lumine has her doubts. And Paimon has her protests--she's still loudly complaining. She can't really blame the pixy; it hasn't been that long since the person inside the chamber was trying to kill them. It definitely feels somehow--off--to be trying to repair him.

But...

She hasn't forgotten those memories that she saw, fed to her and Hypatia. She's still not happy with him for trying to hurt Nahida. But if Nahida wants to forgive him, it doesn't feel right to refuse.

Well. Helping to repair him doesn't mean she has to forgive him if she doesn't feel like it. Lumine shoves the large, heavy doors open and enters the inner sanctum.

"Scaramouche?" She knows the puppet can't be far considering his body's condition, and there's really nowhere to hide. But that doesn't mean he might not be trying.

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Scaramouche realizes very well that he has been on the receiving end of an Archon's pity and if he had the energy to laugh he would have done so. After all, is there anything more ironic than this?

His eyes snap open when he hears the sound of doors opening, followed by footsteps and a voice calling his name.

"Heh...you came to gloat, Traveler?"

And it isn't like he can go anywhere. He is lying there, on his stomach and its obvious that he is being repaired. The tubes that used to be attached to his back are removed, yet the holes still remain. There are cracks here and there and it seems he's quite out of energy.

Still, that is nothing compared to the emptiness he feels inside. There is no anger that drives him, no goal he can work towards to, no purpose, no use. The only reason that he still exists is the kindness of a certain Dendro Archon.

"Keep it short. I need my rest."

To his own ears his voice sounds empty and lackluster, but there's definitely a mocking tone to it.

His taunts ring hollow. How could they not? He's a mess, physically. But it's much more than that: he's completely spiritless. She expected a broken body, Nahida had prepared her for that much, but a shattered spirit? Not so much.

She's staring, and enough time has passed since he last spoke that it's going to become pronounced. But she can't quite help herself. He's always been so animated and dramatic. Seeing him laid low like this....

"No. No, I'm not here to gloat." She doesn't regret defending herself or Nahida--but she can't exactly feel happy about this.

"Nahida asked me to come help with your repairs." She lifts her arms a little--not far, because if she does she'll lose her grip on some of the supplies cradled elbow-to-elbow across her chest. She walks over to where he lies and kneels down. "She said you didn't want any of the sages to touch you."

She expects he's not going to like her doing this any better--maybe less--but ... seeing him laying here like this, she feels just a little like she owes it to him to try.

"Heh. And I would allow you to touch me?"

Now he does move, slowly forcing himself to sit up so he can look her in the eyes properly, revealing a big crack running over his left cheek.

"Just leave that here and return. Tell Buer that I have declined her offer."

Really, it's already worse enough that he has woken up again, only to be remembered of how he crashed into the ground after he lost it all yet again. There is nothing rewarding about feeling empty and useless. All he really wants is to be turned off and be put away. It wasn't like anyone would go and miss him or anything.

"It was less an offer and more an order." In spite of her gentle, kind nature, Nahida could be surprisingly firm. "Besides. I don't think you're really in any position to decline."

It might be unkind of her to say so, but it's the truth. The effort that it takes him to move such a small amount is pathetic. Even if he wanted to, he wouldn't be able to fight back.

"I don't like seeing you this way." Even though she still has strong, unsettled feelings about the things he's done--she's seen too deeply into his psyche not to be affected. "Let me help you," she says, more firmly.

Now that makes him laugh.

"What will she do...kill me?" More laughter. "I won't even stop her." Still, in the back of his mind he knows very well what his punishment will be. And that is to exist, to be forced to go on now his purpose has been taken away and nothing is left.

For a small, child-like archon, Buer is quite cruel. When Lumine starts to speak again he stops his laughter and just chuckles a couple of times.

"I do not want to be on the receiving end of your pity, Traveler. You slayed a god, now don't be weak."

She shakes her head.

"Hating is easy. Killing is easy." She sits down next to him and starts to unpack and prepare the various supplies that Nahida has laden her with. "In my experience, it's much harder to heal and forgive. If I wanted to do the weak and easy thing, it would be to finish off what I started."

It would be easier than she likes to admit to convince herself that he's irredeemably evil and deserving of death. She's done it many times before.

She looks him dead in the eye. "I think you know that too, deep down. I think you're tired, though, and the idea of Nahida challenging you to find what's left of the good parts of you buried deep down feels like it's too much.

"I'm not going to do the easy thing. I'm not going to let you, either."

"How noble."

Scaramouche watches how she unpacks everything. Tools and potions and what not. All that trouble for this hollow shell that is left of him. What a waste of time.

"Perhaps I should phrase it differently, Traveler." He might be tired, the mocking undertone doesn't leave his voice at all. "Do you trust me? Do you think there is still something inside of me that isn't consumed by anger? A good part? Would you wage the safety of your loved ones for this?"

She could point out that she believes in her strength to be able to stop him if he betrayed her. But she doesn't think that would be helpful. He's asked her a question, and even if his tone suggests derision, she decides to take him seriously.

"In your memories, you said that you would never again trust another human after the three betrayals you suffered. But when Haypasia accidentally tapped into your consciousness and saw all of the pain that you had endured and believed it was a divine blessing, you had a choice. You could have destroyed her for the intrusion. Instead, you decided to make her your first Sage and placed her under your protection.

"Do you remember why it is you told me you did that?" She barely gives him a second before continuing. "Because you felt some affection for her. You saw worth in her--in something that you previously swore was worthless."

She pours out a small amount of tincture onto a clean, dry cloth, staining it a pretty light blue. It smells of Padisarah--sweet and calming. "You're not as hard and immutable as you like to believe. Now--let me see your cheek."

"Trust is one thing, worship is another." Scaramouche rolls his eyes and looks at her with a somewhat tired look on his face. "How could I punish a follower for acknowledging the suffering of their god?"

But he isn't a god anymore. He's nothing more than a broken puppet who has no other choice to exist.

"I could attack you. Even in this weakened state I think I could be a threat." Oh, he isn't turning his cheek towards her. "Would you kill me if I did?"

He's trying to test her patience. But he seems to have lost something else with his godhood--the ability to seriously annoy her. In return for his annoyed, tired look she gives him a small, gentle smile.

"No. I would defend myself if need be. But I wouldn't kill you. I don't particularly even want to hurt you. Even if you're going to attack me, or you think of yourself as a threat. I think you've done enough hurting for several lifetimes."

"How naive."

Scaramouche can see the kind smile on her face and oh, how he wishes that she would lash out and finish what she had started. Kindness had no place here. There was no reason to be kind or forgiving.

"Why put in effort for something that is beyond salvation?"

He remembers the desperation he felt when the gnosis was taken away from him and the pleas that came from his mouth. He didn't want to lose it all again and here he is now, his chest still lacking a heart and stripped of all his strength. It truly is a horrible, empty feeling and he hates it. If only he could strip himself of all these useless emotions.

"What is it that you want from me? Keep me as a prisoner? Punish me?" Scaramouche pauses and chuckles joylessly. "Ah, is it that you both think you can repair me on the inside as well? That a kind smile and some soft words will undo the betrayals I've suffered?" And he chuckles some more and when he is done chuckling he simply turns away and lies down again.

"You do realize I'm older than I look, right? I'm not so naïve as to think that one moment of kindness or one good deed is going to undo the harm that's been done to you." She shakes her head.

Yes, she believes with enough time and encouragement, some of the bitterness that's steeped in his soul might mellow. But going away entirely? She's not so sure. But she's also not in a position to say it's impossible, either. If Nahida, a goddess of wisdom, thinks that it could happen, then who is she, a mere wandering star, to argue otherwise?

"It's like I told you before. I'm here because Nahida asked me to help repair you. Physically," she adds, in case he wants to start arguing about philosophy again. Since he's laid himself down and exposed his back to her, she takes one of the tincture soaked rags and very, very gingerly runs it against the rim of one of the exposed rims on his back where the the tubes had so violently disconnected after their battle.

"Then stop pitying me."

Scaramouche wholeheartedly believes that whatever his world was, has stopped to exist completely. All there is left is absolutely nothing and at this point he feels so hollow that even his own thoughts echo inside his head.

"Or must I remind you of the fact that all the damage done to my body is your doing?"

But he doesn't turn when she touches his back.

"Heh. You cannot repair me." The Doctor could. In fact, the Doctor could pull him apart limb by limb and assemble him anew right after. "What would you do about all these cracks? Or the damage done to my joints?"

She ignores his order to stop pitying him. Of course she understands his sense of pride and the desire to not be pitied. But there are things you can do, and things you can't do, and turning off one's feelings fall under the latter.

"Actually, Nahida says this balm will repair the cracks. I don't know how it's going to feel, though." Hurried healing like that might just feel like more suffering. Hopefully, though, it won't be bad. He hasn't yelped or hissed in pain yet, so she takes that as a positive sign and continues to apply the salve.

"I realize I'm the reason your body's in this shape. That's why I'm trying to take responsibility."

"You should take your responsibility and finish me off." He doesn't move when he speaks. "Its quite easy. Just reach inside of one of those holes in my back and yank at some wires."

Scaramouche can feel that the balm is doing something to his back. Its uncomfortable but not painful.

"You could also remove the energy core. I can tell you exactly how to get to it. It is inside my chest." Where a heart should be. A gnosis. Anything really. Because it is empty now. Emptier than it has ever been. And now he does move, looking over his shoulder with a faint smile around his lips and a dull look in his eyes.

"Let me show you."

She crosses her arms over her chest and fights the urge to narrow her eyes. He's really and truly intent with having her destroy him--enough so that she doesn't think any amount of protest at this point is going to dissuade him. Perhaps, then, she should just bide her time. --Besides, she's going to need access to the inside of his chest to clean, too.

"All right, show me."

Really, he doesn't want to be repaired or made. He can't entirely deal with how he got so close and managed to lose it again all at the end. If he's created to fail, it is much better to make that end for once and for all.

Scaramouche isn't careful when he opens his chest, tugging at the seams in a crude way until the front gives way and he can pry it open.

"Now give me your hand."

He reaches out to her, offering her his hand.

She doesn't like the way he almost violently removes the opening to his chest cavity, and for a moment, she wonders if they'll actually be able to keep him alive--if he won't just kill himself so he doesn't have to keep facing the world. But if she hesitates here, then he'll think she doesn't trust him. (Does she trust him? She's not sure. Probably not to not hurt himself, not when he's acting like this.)

Without missing a beat, she gives him her hand. She's going to have to make this leap of faith and hope that he doesn't try to use her fist to bust anything else in there.

"Heh, you're so gullible, Lumine."

Scaramouche chuckles before his fingers curl around her hand. Without any further ado he guides her hand into the cavity of his chest. He knows exactly where to guide her and what she should do.

"Now reach out a little. Stretch your fingers." He looks at her face, eyes wide open and any one can see that the look on his face doesn't belong to a sane person. "You can feel those wires, not? Since you value my health so much, why don't you tug at them a little? It would help the distribution of energy through the parts of my body."

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