glidinglight | 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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"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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