❝ WOULD YOU HAVE FOLLOWED ME TO THE LEFT OF ELYSIAN? ❞
As heiress to Teyvat's greatest trading company, you sat at the summit of nobility and wealth. Thus at the age of twenty, you were arranged to marry someone befitting your wealth and status- wh...
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tw. torture, graphic violence, and depiction of gore
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UPON CONFIRMING THAT you were rid of the poison in your system, Scaramouche led you to the dungeons where Dottore had taken over the inquisition in your fiancé's stead. You were told that the champagne you had drank was contaminated with a mixture of belladonna and wolfhook— normally a deadly combination but the composition of the champagne dulled the effects and ironically, it was your body's own rejection of alcohol that caused you to throw up most of the poison. The rest, Dottore took care of to ensure there was no further damage to your body.
You wondered if it was sheer luck or implications of something more sinister to come. That dreadful sensation of something sinister lingering in the air didn't seem to go away as Scaramouche led you down to the dungeons, if anything, it amplified the feeling to an extreme. The atmosphere is dreary, void of any sort of natural light. A dim light fixture lined the hallway, shedding some much-needed illumination into the dark cells full of the guests whom your fiancé had deemed villainous. Two Fatui guards stood by the two cells, their faces covered with a mask that voided them from displaying any sort of sympathy. You noticed the array of sharp metals attached to their hip; silver blades stained with blood.
"Who do you think you are?! Imprisoning me?!" Your eyes fell upon an angry man, rattling against his chained chair as you and Scaramouche walked past. You recognized him as one of the men who had sat at your table just hours earlier. In the cell beside him, there was a bloodied servant sitting on the empty bed frame with his head slumped in his bloody hands— red painting the floor of the dungeon cell. Dottore was questioning him, his sanguine eyes dark like the liquid spilt on the ground.
"You conspired to kill my fiancé. I think I'm authorized to imprison you." Scaramouche snapped, his icy tone silencing the man and the rest of the angry protest echoing the dungeon hall. He slumped against his confinement, eyes casted downwards in resign of his own fate. You stared at the man, unable to offer any words and instead, chased after Scaramouche who was walking towards Dottore.
