Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

An array of birds flew through the sky, fluttering above the Sanctuary of Suresthana. Once in a while, the guards in front of the sanctuary seemed to daze off and watch. Nahida can’t see them with her own eyes, but when she has the chance, she’ll selfishly use another’s to watch as they chirp and dance among the branches supporting the building.

She watches them sing, play, build nests, and lay eggs. She watches baby birds grow up and learn to fly.
She watches the weakest of the chicks fall from its nest. His mother is turned the other way, watching the other chicks attempt as her runt squeaks and struggles.

The first time Nahida is able to harness her abilities enough to actually move another’s body, she saves a baby dusk bird, making sure he gets back to the nest safely as not to get left behind. One day, he will learn how to fly, and freely dance and sing with the other birds in the sky, enjoying the beauty of life and companionship.
Nahida hopes one day, she’ll be able to do the same.

—---------- ✧

The first time Nahida sees Scaramouche, she decides he reminds her of a golden finch chick who never learned to fly. And yet, through his actions, she saw him continuously reaching for the skies in a delusional desperation. She feels pity for him, wonders what could have happened that trapped him so deeply in sorrow. Nahida bathes in her sympathy until she forces herself to push it aside in order to save her people. She’d do it over and over again if she had to.
But, at the same time, Nahida can’t help but mourn those she could not save. The golden finch dances in the back of her mind, and she promises to pick him up again if given the chance.

———— ✧

Every archon Scaramouche had come in contact with had wronged him. They’d tossed him out, used him, neglected him. Scarmouche doesn’t trust humans, but he definitely doesn’t trust gods.

Nahida was no different.

With Nahida, it was easy to tell what her intentions were, but she was still trying to use him to help extract information from Irmunsul. Making it clear what she wanted from him didn’t change the end result.
It was surprising, truthfully, that she would treat him gently the way she did, but that was the extent of it. He was inclined to assume it was to make him more amiable to her requests, lower his guard. He knew she must still harbor resentment for his previous actions, if he was even relevant enough to think about in the mind of an archon.

Scaramouche knew better than anyone that he was just a puppet in the game of the gods.

He thought, if maybe he could just claim that power for himself, he could become more than that. If he could become a god, maybe he’d be more than a minuscule pawn in their treacherous games. He would claim the power he had originally been created to harness. He would have a purpose.

Something stupid for a puppet to wish for, he mused in hindsight. He wouldn’t play any part in these games anymore. He just wished he could disappear.

———— ✧

Scaramouche had a lot of thoughts about the gods. Before he erased himself from Irmunsul, he would rant for hours on end about them. He would recite angry speeches in his mind, silently seething until his hatred manifested itself through the violence expected from a Harbringer.

However, Scaramouche wasn’t here anymore. And the Wanderer didn’t have many opinions about the gods, or any, really. He simply wandered.

When Wanderer laid eyes on Nahida, he was affected enough to form some of those said opinions. Because archons, how intriguing it was, that this little fairy-like being was the god of knowledge! Wanderer didn’t know what to think of gods, really. Had you asked him anytime before now, he may have said he expected them to be large and calm, power overflowing in their every move; calculated and certain in their convictions. Never would he have described the small and kind-eyed creature who stood before him now.

Nahida, having no memories of Scaramouche, formed opinions of her own. Despite her reluctance to draw conclusions based on first impressions, she couldn’t help but notice the Wanderer’s pretty features, his gentle step. He reminded her of a golden finch, trapped in a cage of its own making, wanting to fly but not knowing where.
Nahida had to urge to help him, take him under her wing. Such intelligence she could sense in his eyes,

And how surprising it was to find traces of the same special interest for the past version of this wanderer! Upon the Traveler’s explanation of the situation, she had searched Irmunsul for anything to help, and lo-and-behold, she had tucked away a memory capsule.

It was almost embarrassing how much effort she had put into making sure Scaramouche would not be lost. From coding his past into a story of her own making to the fact she took such a caution without even knowing of his plans- it seemed she had been quite intrigued with him.

That educated guess was verified upon recalling and unveiling the lost memories and emotions. This intrigue grew even more so, learning about Kabukimono’s past alongside him in the illusion Irmusul allowed them to travel through. The poor boy.

So clever, so tragic. It was a story that moved her so. And so, as to not scare her little bird off, she gave no clear evidence of her sympathy, her interest. Only a logical explanation of why he should stay with her. A nest to return to.

And Scaramouche, newly Wanderer, untrusting of gods, reluctantly accepted.

Chapter Text

Wanderer woke up in one of the rooms below the Sanctuary of Suresthana. Nahida had declared he would occupy “his old room” as a permanent residence, or for as long as he would stay with her. Though it wasn’t the first time he had woken up here, he could hardly consider himself familiar enough to think of it as previously being his, despite how Nahida referred to it.

The first time he had woken in this room, it was from the coma he had fallen into from the hull of Shouki no Kami. The last thing he had remembered was the Electro Gnosis being taken right from under his nose. He recalled reaching, begging. He remembered falling.

And then he woke up the person who had taken it from him sitting at his bedside. She had hidden him away to protect him from those who were (rightfully) displeased with his attempt to seize godhood from her own hands. Nahida was unfazed, nursing him back to health throughout a week-long recovery. Of course, this was just in order to use him to access Irmunsul.

A week for a 500-year-old wanderer like him was nothing. It was nothing, and yet…

Wanderer sat up silently. Almost dazed, he looked around the room, mind practically blank with the amount of information he was trying to process. In the span of a couple of days, he had both lost and regained all his memories. He had been rendered to a blank slate only to have all the events and trauma of the past five centuries flood into his mind.

Looking out the window, Wanderer gathered that it must be late morning or afternoon from the position of the sun. He usually didn’t sleep so late, if he ever did, but the events of the previous day had taken a big toll. There must have been a lot for his mind to process.

Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, Wanderer sat on the edge, watching the light filter through the window. Slowly, he began to gain the energy to process the sound of birds singing outside, the warmth of the sunlight on his legs, the smell of… something sweet?

What?

The Wanderer was awake enough to react when he heard a soft triple-knock on the door. He furrowed his brow. It could only be one person…

“Enter at your own discretion,” He drawled, just loud enough to be heard through the wood of the door.

At the admittance, the door creaked open, just enough for Nahida to poke her head in. The sweet smell only got stronger, and Wanderer raised his head slightly to catch the scent. Spotting the puppet awake and curious, Nahida smiled, disappearing momentarily before pushing the door fully open to reveal a flat box in her hands.

The box caught the Wanderer’s eyes, and he paused his sniffing to glance at it before looking up to meet Nahida’s eyes. Despite his lack of expression, Nahida could pinpoint a question in Scaramouche’s gaze, and she smiled wider.

The archon padded over to the empty desk perpendicular to the bed, straining her arms slightly to place the box on the surface.

Nahida spoke as she busied herself with the box and napkins she brought.

“So, I know neither of us technically needs to eat, but that doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy the experience itself. And this morning I found myself craving something sweet, so I thought…”

Nahida whipped around, each hand holding a napkin with some steaming, sweet-smelling spherical pastries. She approached Scaramouche, holding out one of the napkins.

“These are Gulab Jamun. They’re basically the Sumerian equivalent of a donut. Or Inazuman poi mochi.”

The Wanderer hesitated, looking at the offered food from the corner of his eye.

“I don’t like sweets.”

Nahida didn’t waver, instead extending her arm slightly further to encourage the puppet to take the napkin.

“It never hurts to try something new. To travel and experience the different intricacies of a land’s culture can enrich your knowledge and understanding.”

Scaramouche furrowed his brows, studying the Gulab Jamun waving in his direction. He glanced back up at the Lesser Lord’s decided expression, an underside of anticipation in it. Sighing, the Wanderer took the sweets from her hand, cupping the napkin with both palms.
What was the purpose of sharing these with him? He doubted poison. Maybe she was forcing him to eat something he disliked to establish their power dynamic?

Scaramouche looked up at her once more as he used two fingers to pinch one of the steaming balls. Nahida watched him expectantly, expression open and kind. Wanderer wavered momentarily and she tilted her head. Slowly, he brought the sweet he was clutching to his mouth, popping it in and chewing.

Doughy and syrupy sweet flavor flooded his mouth and he grimaced slightly. It honestly wasn’t bad, but just slightly too sugary for his taste.

“How is it?”

The Wanderer finished chewing and swallowed before answering Nahida.

“I don’t like sweets.”

He repeated. Nahida considered this, looking slightly solemn at his answer, eyes falling downcast. Scaramouche felt an unnatural twinge in his heart before looking off to the side, staring at nothing in particular.

“Just a bit less sugar and I’d enjoy it more.”

Nahida perked up, looking up at the Wanderer as he popped another into his mouth. She grinned before jumping up on the bed to sit beside him. Scaramouche stopped chewing in surprise, not expecting the sudden closeness.

“Maybe next time we could make them ourselves! After you bake them, they’re usually soaked in syrup or glazed. I believe if we either skip that step or apply it minimally, they’d cater a lot more to your taste!” She mused.

Scaramouche continued to look in the opposite direction, resuming his chewing. The only response Nahida got was a noncommittal hum from the boy sitting at her side.

In turn, the archon glanced around the room as well, surveying the layout.

“It’s rather empty in here…”

The Wanderer finished the sweet, not even sparing a cursory glance to his surroundings. He knew them well enough.

“I don’t have many possessions.” He stated.

“I’m aware. I meant to imply that it may benefit from a bit of decoration. If you’d like, I can help!”

They met eyes, the Wanderer caught off guard by her amiable behavior. He looked away again, using another sweet as an excuse to distract him.

“I’m a Wanderer. I don’t require much. Don’t be so willing to waste your time on pointless things.” He replied, snootily and sharp.

Nahida studied his face as they sat silently for a moment. She was never opposed to occupying thoughtful silences, but Scaramouche could only sit uncomfortably, feeling the weight of her gaze and unexpected closeness.

After a couple of seconds, Nahida jumped down from the bed, turning her head to continue looking at the Wanderer’s face as she spoke to him.

“Well, anyway. As my assistant, I was actually going to request your help for our first shared task, if it isn’t too soon to do so.”

Of course. That’s what all of this was. Scaramouche should have guessed Nahida was just buttering him up to ask something of him. He scoffed inwardly at the idea. It was completely unnecessary to do so, how absurd to bother with useless pleasantries.

“Well then? I already agreed to help.”

Moving to close the box as to not let the Gulab Jamun get stale, Nahida continued.

“Well, then, would you please accompany me to the Grand Bazaar today? We’re in need of some groceries.”

What.

They were going… grocery shopping?

Nahida truly had a way of surprising Scaramouche. What was her reasoning, he could never seem to guess correctly. Usually, the Wanderer was never flustered by another, too far above caring about mundane things, and yet the little archon kept shaking him up. Well, he supposed it could just be due to the past events of the last 48 hours. He was already recovering from a state of confusion.

“I… okay?” He sputtered.

Nahida flashed him a smile, seemingly satisfied with the response.

“So then, let’s meet in the sanctuary in about half an hour, okay?”

“...Yeah.”

“Great! I’ll see you then!”

Nahida exclaimed, skipping out the door and waving before closing it gently. Scaramouche stared at the door a moment longer, still blank-headed and processing.

What exactly had he gotten himself into?

Chapter Text

Scaramouche had been to the Grand Bazaar before. In his period of mindless wandering, he’d even worked there for a day or two… not well, of course. He’d lost the man a good load of mora with all the theft that took place right under his nose.

The Wanderer liked to think he would be more attentive now, with more filling his head. Without any memories of his past self, Scaramouche admitted his mind had a habit of wandering too- but, that was without the 500 years worth of personality building.

Of course, he did not plan on testing his shop-keeping abilities any time soon. Instead, he was currently working on his bag-carrying skills, arms already half-full with groceries Nahida purchased (or was gifted). Almost every booth they passed was another opportunity to catch her eye, and any shopkeeper approached by the (obviously recognizable) God of Wisdom was willing to give up half of their shop’s possessions as an offering to their archon. Nahida was humble enough to convince some out of it, instead insisting upon paying mora in exchange for the goods, but either way they ended up hanging off of Scaramouche’s arms or in his palms.

The puppet bet he would be fit for a job as a bellhop by the end of the evening.

The Wanderer forced himself to supress a groan upon hearing yet another surprised call of Nahida’s name, causing her to stop her leisurely stroll past the stalls.

“Lesser Lord Kusanali!”

Scaramouche turned to see the girl who called out bounding up to the small archon, blue and gold outfit fluttering in the breeze. Nahida cast a smile in the girl’s direction as she approached, giving a small wave.

“Hello, Nilou. It’s nice to see you again!” Nahida greeted. Nilou clasped her hands together in excitement.

“Truly, it is! What are you doing in the Bazaar? If there’s any assistance I may provide, don’t hesitate to ask!”

The Wanderer shifted some of the bags on his arms to distribute the weight, attracting Nilou’s attention. Nahida noticed the shift in her gaze and turned slightly to hold an arm out in Scaramouche’s direction.

“My new assistant and I were just doing a bit of shopping. This is…”

Nahida gave him a glance, pondering, before smiling mischievously.

“...Hat Guy!” She finished.
Wanderer let out a slight groan at the introduction, looking down at Nahida with an exasperated expression. She grinned up at him, hands behind her back, and peeked her tongue out the corner of her mouth. Nilou paused a moment, looking between the two, before letting out a giggle. Scaramouche kept himself from flushing as he attempted to re-introduce himself.

“My name is actually- well…” He blanked, looking back down at the archon. The lesser lord cocked her head with a smile. Scaramouche sighed in defeat.

“Nevermind. Call me whatever you wish. I’m just a wanderer, anyway.”

Nilou nodded slowly, considering this.

“Well then, Hat Guy! It’s nice to meet you. I’m Nilou, one of the dancers of the Zubayr Theatre! If you don’t mind me asking, how did you become Lesser Lord Kusanali’s assistant?”

The Wanderer frowned in contemplation. He didn’t enjoy pleasantries or small talk, but felt inclined to suffer through under both Nilou’s expectant gaze and in Nahida’s company. However, the questions themselves weren’t exactly easy to answer, despite being simple in nature. Scaramouche felt at a loss.

“It’s a long story.” He responded bluntly, not really providing any invitation for further engagement.

Nilou gave a hum in understanding. “I see.”

She studied the two again as they shared a look. To say her curiosity wasn’t piqued would be a lie, but Nilou wasn’t anything if not polite. She took the dismissive answer gracefully and didn’t question it further.

“Anyway, would you like help with those bags? I'm finished with rehearsal for the day, and if you’re looking for anything specific, I may be able to help! Unless I’d be intruding?”

The Wanderer grimaced slightly. Nahida was the only thing keeping him from walking away from any prospect of further socializing. However, it seemed the archon was under the impression that enlarging their shopping group was a great idea.

“Not at all! I don’t doubt you know the Grand Bazaar best, Nilou. And I’m sure my assistant’s arms would appreciate it.”

Well, his arms were getting sore.

———— ✧

The three continued to wander the Bazzar, Nahida and Nilou chatting away merrily as Scaramouche trudged behind them. The groceries Nilou took off his hands were eventually replaced by more purchases (and enthusiastic gifts), the bags lining his arms.

At Nahida’s request, Nilou led them to a booth that specialized in cooking supplies and kitchen utensils. Scaramouche lacked any interest in eavesdropping, but he naturally overheard a good majority of their conversations due to the close proximity. His attention was drawn to the exchange upon hearing mention of his alias in the archon’s soft, tinkling voice.

“-Wanderer doesn’t like sweets, but I thought we may be able to replicate the recipe with less syrup to appeal to his tastes.”

Nilou clapped her hands together in excitement at the idea.

“How fun! I adore sweets, so I’ve baked a bit in my free time. If you need any assistance, I can always help!”

“You’re so kind, Nilou! I would love for you to join us when we get around to making them. I have all the necessary knowledge of the ingredients and process, but I admit I’ve never actually had the chance to bake or cook before. I thought it may be a nice experience to share with friends!”

The Wanderer’s eyes widened at Nahida’s explanation, mulling over the words as the two browsed the appliances. “Friends”, huh… could Nahida even consider him a friend? They hadn’t known each other for very long, and the interactions they had shared weren’t exactly bonding experiences. But, with the way she spoke, it felt as if the lesser lord was actually looking forward to spending time with him, rather than just using him as an extra pair of hands. And him, nonetheless. Scaramouche was aware he didn’t have a very pleasant personality. He hadn’t given any thought to the value of his company in hundreds of years, but upon thinking about himself in that sense, he couldn’t help but grimace. Good thing he didn’t base any of his worth on it, since he could barely imagine how sour it would be to willingly spend time with someone like him.

He furrowed his brows, lost in thought. What use was his comradery to her?

Maybe it was simply her time locked away in the Sanctuary of Suresthana that led to a lack of friendships to cultivate. She was probably just reveling in the company she had close to her, after being lonely for so long.

At the thought, a heavy feeling grew in his chest. His throat felt slightly tighter at the thought of the small god, alone in that beautiful cage for about the same length of his own extensive lifetime.

Scaramouche cleared his throat. Maybe he was having a late allergic reaction to the Gulab Jamun.

Ignoring the little voice in the back of his head reminding him puppets didn’t have allergies, the Wanderer shook himself out of the trance he’d fallen into, doing a quick scan of the booth to ensure his makeshift shopping group was still there. He spotted them together at the other end, looking at the ceramic bowls.

With nothing else to do, Scaramouche began to make his way over to them, gaze roaming over the different items being displayed. He glanced to his other side, a painted teapot catching his eye. The Wanderer slowly came to a stop, turning slightly to examine the design.

The pot was a matte black with a blunt spout. It seemed to be Inazuman, or at least Inazuma-inspired, being adorned with simple paintings of pink Sakura.

Still admiring the teapot, Scaramouche’s thoughts drifted to the potential uses for the beautiful piece. He wondered if they sold tea in this market. He’d never had the chance to try tea from Sumeru. It was an indulgence he didn’t often allow himself to partake in, but the Wanderer suddenly found himself craving the delicate taste of a smooth, bitter tea.

Scaramouche was shaken out of his thoughts by Nilou approaching him from behind.

Hat guy! Would you mind holding this? We’re about ready to go- ooh, how pretty!” Nilou gushed, attention immediately drawn to the pot.

“I’ve seen this flower design before, but I’ve never actually seen them in real life. I don’t think they’re native to Sumeru…”

“They’re sakura. More commonly called cherry blossoms.”

Nilou looked up at the Wanderer, slightly surprised at the sudden explanation. He had returned to staring at the teapot, eyes roving over the design with something almost like longing. After a moment, as if sensing her gaze, Scaramouche shot his eyes back up to her face, composing himself.

“They’re- um… native to Inzauma.” He continued.

Nilou simply smiled, nodding in understanding.

“Oh! Have you been there?”

Scaramouche pressed his lips together, eyes wandering to the side as if avoiding looking at her. A moment of silence passed between the two until the Wanderer held out his arm. Nilou looked down at it in confusion.

“The bag.” He stated bluntly.

“Oh… right!”

Nilou busied herself with picking the bag up from the numerous others in her grasp and looping it onto the puppet’s arm. Neither of them noticed Nahida watching the interaction, long finished browsing.

———— ✧

As their shopping day came to a close, the three made one last stop at the food area, in order to ensure any perishable items were bought near the very end of their trip. Upon arriving, Nahida’s eyes lit up looking around all of the groceries, eyes immediately wandering to the candied ajilenakh nuts on display. Thinking quickly, Nahida turned toward the two with her, feigning shock.

“Oh no! I just remembered something I forgot to get!”

Nilou was unphased by the Lesser Lord’s revelation, the bags hanging on her arms crinkling as she turned slightly. “Oh, no worried, we can just head ba-”

Nahida cut her off, waving her hands infront of her face.

“No no no, I couldn’t do that to you two, not with everything you’re carrying for me!”

Scaramouche raised an eyebrow as Nahida switched to address Nilou directly, face hidden from his line of sight. The small archon clasped her hands together in a pleading motion.

“Nilou, instead, could you take Hat Guy to pick out some candied ajilenakh nuts? I admit they’re an indulgence of mine, as my favorite food.”

The Wanderer overheard Nahida’s words, the quip about her favorite food reigning in his focus. He tuned out Nilou’s response in favor of catolouging the information in the back of his brain.

Nahida winked at Nilou before running off.

“I’ll be right back!”

The Wanderer broke out of his trance as she ran past, turning to watch as she scuttled back the way they had come from. It occurred to him, suddenly, that Nahida had left him alone with the talkative dancer.

Or, he assumed she was talkative; at least with the way she had acted around Nahida. And yet, as they turned back around and began walking the perimeter, Nilou made no attempt to start a conversation.

Scaramouche wasn’t used to feeling awkward around others. His previous facade had become second nature to him— all-important, above any mortal that dared converse with him. And yet, falling from godhood felt like he was forcibly brought back to reality— A reality where he was alone, powerless, and on the same level if not lower than every person he interacted with. And now, Wanderer had been humbled into feeling the pressure of social anxiety for the first time in centuries.

Left alone with Nilou, Scaramouche felt as if his throat was being slightly constricted. He forcibly swallowed to try and relieve the pressure, and was ashamed of how loud the natural function seemed in his ears. He glanced over at Nilou to see if she had noticed his comically loud gulp, letting go of a breath he didn’t realize he was holding upon finding her focused on the nearby booths. The Wanderer felt inclined to start conversation to relieve the silence between them, and yet no words came to mind. How did one even converse with another amiably? Hundreds of years lording himself over others had dulled the memories of how to participate in small talk, much less form friendly relationships.

This was somehow easier with Nahida. Whether it was her friendly nature, similar age, or full understanding of his past and struggles, he felt less of a need to force conversation. Yet, this mortal girl… he had nothing in common with. How was she able to talk with Nahida so easily?
Nahida… How did they even meet? Did this puny mortal truly have a closer relationship with the Lesser Lord than him? Inconceivable.

“Nilou.”

The red-haired dancer turned at the almost commanding tone.

“Ah.. yes?”

Scaramouche’s sudden confidence wavered at the girl’s open gaze. He returned his gaze forward, forcing words past his tightened throat.

“How did you… meet Nahida?”

Nilou’s wary gaze softened slightly as the look on the shorter man’s face. The Wanderer’s lips were slightly pursed, and he looked as if he was biting the inside of his cheek in slight apprehension. And yet, Nilou caught him casting a quick glance at her, obviously waiting for an answer. How curious.

Nilou held back a giggle, instead composing herself as she wracked her brain for a proper answer. She put a finger to her chin in contemplation.

“Hm… well, I’ve always been a close follower of our Lesser Lord. I don’t think I had ever met her in person until recently, but it feels like so much longer… I feel like she was always there, with us… I guess it was through the Akasha she was able to reach all of Sumeru. But her good deeds have never gone unrecognized, especially by me. I can only hope to show my appreciation at every Festival of Sabzeruz…”

Scaramouche watched as Nilou spoke, speaking almost as if it was too herself. He didn’t mind her rambling. Instead, her description combined with the reverent look on her face gave him all he needed to know. The Wanderer had been under the delusion that their relationship was just like Nahida and him, but Nilou’s awe confirmed there was a clear difference. To her, Nahida was larger than life. An object of worship, much too out of reach to match the relationship of a friend. Thinking back to the way all the citizens treated Nahida, ever full of goodwill, it was obvious to him now that Nilou was just another one of her followers. Their Lord’s unending knowledge and previous access through the Akasha simply allowed for her to connect to all of her people with a more personal understanding.

Nilou snapped out of her musings, looking over to the puppet with an apology for getting carried away on the tip of her tongue. His slightly pleased expression wiped them from her thoughts. Suddenly, Scaramouche’s small smile fell into a more comtemplative look, as if finding a hidden truth in her words.

“The Festival of?….”

Nilou’s eyes lit up in excitement.

“The Festival of Sabzeruz! It’s a big celebration for Lesser Lord Kusanali’s birthday! I’ll usually help organize it and perform the Dance of Sabzeruz, which is based off the Goddess of Flowers-”

Nilou dove into a full explanation of the festival and its traditions, her conversational spark returning. Scaramouche listened attentively, surprising himself with how intrigued he was by Nilou’s description.

As the two talked, they also browsed the stalls for ingredients, collecting sugar, fruits, flour, eggs, milk, and whatever else caught their attention. Nilou carried the majority of the conversation as they shopped, with the Wanderer occasionally responding or asking questions related to the topic. Scaramouche was so invested in the surprisingly smooth-flowing discussion that he didn’t even notice all his previous anxiety slipping away.

After they gathered all the necesities (plus some random little things Nilou convinced Scaramouche to try) they settled on a nearby bench to wait for Nahida, Nilou still chattering away. Once in a while, Scaramouche would let a sarcastic comment slip, which was at first mortifying (cursing himself for getting too comfortable, letting his snide personality show, he probably just ruined it) until Nilou barked out a laugh.

Since the incident, Wanderer really hadn’t had much to smile about. But it was hard not to let at least a little smirk grace his features when his shopping companion all but snorted at one of his remarks. Apparently the dancer found his sadornic quips both surprising and amusing, shocking small bouts of laughter.

Eventually, the two spotted Nahida returning, quickly gathering the armfuls of bags and waving her over. She brightened and bound over to the two, Scaramouche eyeing yet another purchase hidden behind the brown paper of the bag in her hands.

“Sorry for taking so long! Did everything go well?”

She asked upon reaching them, looking between the two as if trying to discover all she missed through a glance. Nilou grinned, responding for the both of them.

“Nahida, you never mentioned how funny your Hat Guy is once you get him alone! I swear, my sides are going to be sore for the rest of the day!”

She shot a quick grin over to Scaramouche, who flustered slightly at compliment. Also, “your” Hat Guy?

He gave a little cough, looking off to the side before changing the subject.

“Yeah, yeah, let’s get moving. The milk’ll spoil.” He mumbled, starting toward the exit.

The two girls shared an amused look before following, Nilou happily starting her detailed description of the highlights of their grocery shopping experience.