A/N: References to Wanderer's backstory. I think this might be my favourite so far, idk haha. Wrote this because my friend is having an eternal Scara phase 💀🖐

⁜※⁜

𝕷𝖎𝖋𝖊 𝖎𝖘𝖓'𝖙 𝖔𝖓𝖑𝖞 𝖘𝖚𝖓-𝖋𝖎𝖑𝖑𝖊𝖉 𝖇𝖆𝖙𝖙𝖑𝖊 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖌𝖑𝖔𝖗𝖎𝖔𝖚𝖘 𝖛𝖎𝖈𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖞. 𝕾𝖔𝖒𝖊𝖙𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖘, 𝖎𝖙 𝖗𝖆𝖎𝖓𝖘 𝖔𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕱𝖆𝖙𝖚𝖎, 𝖙𝖔𝖔.

⁜※⁜

The thunder echoed across the hills, the loud booms reverberating through Mother Nature's earthen body. Lightning flashed continuously, blinding in all directions. The rain pelted down like bullets, injuriously tough on all who had the misfortune of travelling during the treacherous weather.

But none of the elements seemed to bother the lone wanderer as he trudged through the forest—which leaves couldn't even shield from the storm. Admittedly, the wind that continuously ripped at his large hat was a nuisance and the sludge that caused his feet to drag was less than desirable, but other than that...

He grunted as an unearthed root almost caused him to trip, ripping it out as he forced his foot forward. "Tsk." He looked out from beneath his hat, the rain falling in sheets inhibiting his vision. Maybe it would be better to seek shelter—even though he had a mission to tend to.

He walked a little longer, before eyeing an outcropping of rock in the distance. As he came near, he realised it was even better than an outcropping. A cavern. He peered into the cave, unfazed by the eerie atmosphere presented by the darkness. "Better than nothing," he mumbled, walking inside and removing his hat.

He ran a small, slender hand through his dark indigo hair, brushing his fringe out of his face as it clung to his forehead. A trail of wet footprints was left in his wake—not like he cared. He leaned against a far wall, a safe distance from the rain's reach, before slumping down to the ground and tossing his hat away in exasperation. Damn this weather.

He didn't need warmth—he was a puppet, after all—so he didn't bother with a fire, nor did he need rest. In fact, every moment that passed had him feeling increasingly restless and—

He paused as he heard the slight scraping of fabric against stone and saw his hat slowly pulled into the dark shadows of the cave. He jerked to his feet. "Who goes there," he demanded—not a question, but an order.

The hat stopped moving and the wanderer could hear a slight shuddering breath echo throughout the cave. He walked a few paces towards the shadows when his hat was whisked away from his vision. He could only stare incredulously at the line where the shadows ended, as there was no face to direct his anger at. Who was foolish enough to stand against a Fatui Harbinger like this?

He ventured closer. "Show yourself..." He cracked his fingers audibly, a warning sound echoing throughout the cavern. "Before I make you." Ah... how he longed for battle. He was sure he would be cooped up in this cave for hours with nothing to do, but now—

Another slight whimper escaped as a small figure stepped out of the darkness. The Harbinger paused. It was just a girl. As she stepped fully into the light, clutching his hat tightly in front of her, he almost began to pity her. Immediately, her situation became clear to him. She'd done her best to survive on her own—hair cut short so it'd be easier to keep, clothes mended with many many jarring patches of hideous colour—but from her unnaturally slim figure, he knew it wasn't enough.

She kept her gaze down, shivering in the cold, before lifting her eyes to plead with him. Don't hurt me, she seemed to say. The wanderer almost scoffed at the thought. He didn't bother with easy game.

Well—he supposed it couldn't hurt to stay in this cave, even with a lost child here. He didn't bother questioning why she was out here in the first place or where her family was—or even if they were alive at all—as it wasn't his problem. He watched as she hugged herself, attempting to cover herself with the veils of his hat to little avail. Suddenly, he stiffened. No... no no no—

It was time to leave. Archons damn him! Just why did they allow him to see it—to recognise the similarities in their faces? He reached for his hat, attempting to snatch it away. He would not stay here a moment longer.

But the girl held firm, crying unintelligible noises of protest. He snarled at her and her eyes became lined with tears—but still, she held on. He tugged harder, pulling the girl along with him towards the outside, but she would not loosen her grip, still crying, shaking her head as she clutched ever tighter to what was his.

She was but a child! How had he not already ripped it away from her? Her strength—especially in this state—should've been far inferior to his! "Give it to me!" he shouted. "Let it go!" The unspoken words resounded in his head. Let me go! Let me out of here!

The tug of war lasted for a few more heated moments before the Harbinger gave up. "Fine!" he yelled, letting go and watching her fall to the ground with a cry. "Keep the damn thing!" With that he turned, marching out of the cave. Who cared if it was storming even more than when he had first entered? He was not staying in there any longer.

He would not fight the face of the boy whom he so dearly missed and cherished any longer.

That thought caused him to pause, and though he urged himself to continue moving, he could not. He did not want to admit it, but he was going easy on her—on that face that reminded him too much of the third betrayal.

He turned his head slightly as he heard the cries of the young girl, sniffing and sobbing to herself pathetically as she hauled her weak, frail body off the ground. He could not help but watch as she staggered back towards the shadows, his hat still gripped tightly as if it were the most precious thing of all. With her back turned to him, he could see how her ribs protruded from her sides. She would die if she was not returned to civilisation and given much-needed attention.

Not his problem, he reminded himself. And yet, he still found himself walking towards her—still found himself scooping the tiny creature into his arms as she was about to fall and carrying her into the dark shadows. He could feel her ribs as he held her—could feel the weeks' worth of food that was missing. Just how long had she been here—alone?

She kept quiet, trembling, save for the occasional sob that escaped. Eventually, she tugged on his sleeve and he stopped and looked at her, dim light filtering through the cavern—enough so that she could see his hateful expression. At that, she tensed but still pointed to a small alcove he could barely make out in the darkness.

He got the message. He walked in through the alcove, accidentally kicking over a feeble pile of wood surrounded by stones, dried leaves sprinkled over the top. A failed attempt at a fire, he realised. He felt around the dark room with his feet, keeping to the wall, before finding a stone slab with large torn pieces of fabric laid atop it, which he assumed was a bed of sorts.

He laid the girl atop it, who curled up into the smallest of balls. Like this, his hat covered her entire body, but even with the extra covering, he could still feel her shivering from the slight draft—still feel her begging for some form of food to ease the pain she no doubt felt from her empty stomach.

He knew she was not his problem. He knew he had better uses of his time. But he also knew... that he would regret not helping the face of the third betrayal.

He stalked out of the cave into the rain. He was past abandoning the small creature whose pain he had felt as he carried her. Though he hated it, he had not completely wiped away all human emotion from the heart he did not have. A blank slate, I will become, he had sworn. "Tsk... annoying," he muttered into the storm.

He climbed a tree, sensing life hidden within its hollow. There, a family of fat squirrels slept. They were dead before they were even alerted to his presence. He hauled them out, holding them by their bushy tails, before hurrying back to the cave and to the alcove. He heard whispers from the girl, but could not make out the words.

He set the dead squirrels down as he prepared a fire, striking a small blade he carried against a smooth stone from the pile. The sparks from the friction ignited a leaf, almost enticing a smile out of him. He blew into the flame, urging it to spread and burn brighter—hotter. As the chamber was lit up, he noticed small belongings scattered around the alcove—none of any particular value or importance to this girl's survival. At best, they held some sort of sentimental value.

Once the fire was sorted, he prepared the squirrels for cooking. As he heated them over the fire, he realised that the girl still murmured, but she was not awake. She was sleeping, he realised. She was very young, he gathered, though her small figure was probably not an accurate portrayal of her age. She was likely a few years older than she looked, but malnutrition had failed her. Gazing upon mortal struggles made him somewhat glad to be a puppet with no needs at all.

Setting aside thinly chopped meat on a flat stone, he turned to the girl and gently shook her awake. She opened an eye, meeting his gaze as she appeared to assess the situation. As she sat up, she took in her surroundings, her eyes widening as she saw the fire—saw the food.

The Harbinger brought forth the small "plate" of meat, practically minced. He knew the food would not go down easy and that she would need to gradually fill her stomach with tiny bites. "Eat," he ordered. She looked up at him blankly—no, hesitantly—and he rolled his eyes. "Ahh," he added, pretending to eat the food on the plate.

He felt like an idiot, but there was no other way to make the girl understand. He meant her no harm. The food was fine for mortals—he ensured that. There was no cutlery around, so eating "respectfully" was not an available option.

But the girl didn't seem to mind, taking the plate in her hands and scooping up the mince a little at a time. Once the first bite went down with no negative reaction, the girl continued to eat. The wanderer stood upon seeing she would be fine eating by herself, deciding she would probably need water as well. "Don't you dare get food on my hat," he warned, earning a distant nod in response.

He clicked his tongue, grabbing an empty bucket in the corner of the room. It was with no small amount of relief that he realised the bucket was not used to relieve the girl of her... needs. It was clean—unused. He made the small trip back outside, the clouds as dark as ever. The bucket filled up quickly as he held it in the rain, pricking and stinging him slightly as it hammered down.

He walked back into the alcove to find the girl a third of the way through her small meal, the water in the bucket sloshing as he sat next to her. She looked up at him with a newfound brightness in her eyes, the firelight flickering on her face. He lifted the bucket to her lips, a silent command to drink. She drank a few small sips before he lowered the bucket, allowing her time to swallow, before lifting it again.

When she had finished what he thought to be a satisfactory amount of food, she smiled gratefully at him. The bucket was still near-full, likely holding enough water to last a few more days. He placed it back in the corner he had found it—and he realised his tending to the girl had finished. He had nothing more to offer her except perhaps safe passage to civilisation—which he hadn't time to do. The storm was already hindering his mission.

The girl made a loud noise behind him to get his attention and he turned. She smiled brightly at him—and something within him stirred with happiness at the sight. She patted beside her. He would rather do something else, but that something else didn't exist. He had nothing better to do, so he sat next to the girl as she continued smiling at him, leaning against the wall. There, they sat in silence as the rain poured down in the background.

"How old are you?" the Harbinger finally asked after an undetermined amount of time had passed. The girl jerked slightly, waking from the slumber she had fallen into and staring at him as if to ask, Why did you wake me? He repeated his question and she gazed at her wiry fingers, before holding up eight of them. Lacking in diction, then, but able to understand his words. Strange creature, she was. "Where are your parents?"

The girl cocked her head slightly. Well—she couldn't understand much. Eight years old and yet knowing little more than a three-year-old. No—it was not that she lacked intelligence as such, but rather the meaning of the words in the language he spoke. The unintelligible murmuring he had heard earlier was likely her home tongue. He wouldn't get an answer to that question, so he gazed around the room, looking for clues while the girl swung her legs idly back and forth.

It was when he looked back at the torn cloth that acted as her bed that he realised there was something immensely tragic surrounding the girl's story. He lifted her up off the bed onto the floor, where she stood and waited in confusion as he raised the cloth—clothes with long-dried blood where they had ripped. He looked at the girl in question and her gaze saddened as she stared at what he held.

The girl took the torn, bloodied clothes in her hands, before beginning to cry softly, likely remembering who they belonged to. The Harbinger knew that he shouldn't pity—that he should not care for the circumstances of others—but he couldn't help but frown at the girl who shared the face of the third betrayal. He knelt and wiped away her tears with a thumb, offering a smile with what little kindness he could muster.

The girl continued crying, but he could tell she tried to calm herself down and mirror his smile. She was so young. To lose one's family and live alone in the wilderness like she did... She was lucky he was here, that much was true—but he was amazed at how she had survived by herself, and at how strong she was that she could still smile at him despite her anguish.

The pair sat back down on the girl's bed, the girl hugging the bloodied cloth tightly to her chest. The wanderer could still see the pain in the girl's forced smile—in her silver-lined eyes. He lifted his hat from where it had been left on the bed and carefully placed it atop the girl's head. Compared to his comrades, he was small in stature, but the girl was as small as they came. Even his hat was too large for her, drooping low and obstructing her vision.

She lifted it slightly to peer out from beneath at the lone wanderer, before giggling. Despite himself, he responded with a light chuckle of his own. He felt... emotion—positive emotion—towards the girl as the light in her eyes filled the hollow heart that did not exist with a brightness that was seldom there.

But he still had to know how she came to be by herself. He stared questioningly at her and the girl shifted to her knees. She held her arms out to the side and flapped them like wings, mimicking the cry of a winged shroom. She then stopped and placed her hands on the bed, growling like the Rishboland Tigers that he had seen not far from here. Ah... so that was what happened.

The girl swiped the air, likely copying the movements of the Rishboland Tigers as they slashed their prey, then carefully slid off the bed and ran around the room. Whoever she had been with previously, her companions had been first attacked by a herd of aggressive shrooms, which had attracted the attention of the Tigers. The Tigers then killed them—everyone but her—and she had run. That was likely her story. Run... all the way here. Defying the laws of Life and dodging the hands of Death as he tried to claim her as everyone else had been.

And if he were to leave her here, the next time Death came knocking on her door, she would surely answer. She was too weak to turn him away again, despite the provisions he had provided her. She knew not how to hunt. The supplies she had would not last to the end of the week.

"How long have you been here?" he asked her. She gave him an innocent look that told him she didn't understand. He clicked his tongue before striding over to the bucket of water and spilling some into a dirt pile. He dipped his finger into the newly made mud before drawing on the wall. He drew three figures, pointing to the small one in the middle and saying, "You." The girl nodded. He pointed to them as a whole. "Your family." She nodded again.

He then drew another figure further away from the family—a lone child, standing by itself. He pointed at the figure. "You—later. Alone." The girl nodded, her expression saddening. The Harbinger then drew a line connecting the two and pointed at it. "Time."

He wasn't entirely sure he got the message across, but then she stood and tugged his sleeve. He let her guide him to another cavern wall in the main passage, and on it—

His eyes widened. There were numerous strikes on the wall—tallies. One tally for every day. If he counted them all, then she had been—

"You've been here... for two years..." he whispered, knowing she couldn't understand. No wonder her intelligence was lacking—why she had not yet been taught the words of this land. His gaze dropped to her unknowing expression. She would never be able to comprehend why he was so shocked. "Food," he said. "Where."

She looked at him as if to ask, You're still hungry after that delicious meal? but led him back to the main room and presented him with a box. In it were small berries—nutritious in value, but not enough to survive on. And yet, somehow this girl had scavenged and scraped her way through these past two years.

It was much more than pity he now felt—and not just because she shared the face of the third betrayal. Archons damn him, he cared for the girl. No child should ever have to experience this sort of pain. Not like him. Not like the third betrayal.

All humans perished eventually, turned to the dust from whence they originated. One day, he knew he would destroy the world and all mortals in it. She would die no matter what—but he would not let her starve or freeze to death.

So he knelt beside the girl and made an offer. "I can take you somewhere safe," he said, even if she didn't really understand. "Home," he added, and her eyes brightened at that—brightened with hope and longing at the word.

He offered a small smile. Forget his mission for now. He would provide her with something he never had the chance to have—a place to call home. With that, he led the small girl out of the cave—allowing her time to gather the torn clothes which apparently held sentimental value. The rain had lightened up enough for it to be safe for the tiny girl. Even so, he held her hand, leading her away from that dastardly place—and he hoped that she would leave her cursed memories behind her forever in it. 

⁜※⁜

A/N: The first time the title isn't a single word 💀 I was wondering what the hell I should call this when I was editing and it just like I dunno came to me

┌─── ∘°❉°∘ ───┐

Fanart credits: https://rare-gallery.com/1343993-genshin-impact-hd-wallpaperscaramouche-genshin-impact.html