Dottore's greatest creation, Y/n. You were a slave to the Fatui whose sole purpose was to serve and protect your master, Scaramouche.
What happens when Dottore's product isn't so flawless after all; when a single catastrophic defect in your system...
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It felt like you had spent hours inside the hotel. The heated moment with Scaramouche made the clock seem to go by too quickly yet simultaneously stopped time. Such stark contrasts.
But here you were, outside the complex with the warm sun shining down on your body. The bustling and chatting of the people flooded your ears which was bizarre in comparison to the tranquil stillness of the building. It's as if the hotel wasn't built within the boundaries of Mondstadt, as if it was constructed with layers of soundproof walls and tinted windows.
"What happened to your stomach?"
When you glanced down, you noticed a little cut in your top. There was dried black liquid staining the rip and your previous wound was now fully healed. Your short-lived make out session with the harbinger had taken over your mind to the point of you nearly forgetting about him almost killing you. Oh, how he enjoyed sexual activity only when it entailed sadistic pleasure.
"A minor altercation. You know how short-tempered he is. It's solved now." You lied as you cast a sidelong glance at the Fatui Agent, predicting that he'd fall for your bait. Curse that protective mask of his for making it impossible to discern his facial expression.
He didn't question you. Instead, the man crossed his arms and glanced towards the hotel's entrance. "Yeah, that's what I assumed."
He tucked his hands inside his pockets and walked to the farthest bench away from the building. You immediately followed behind and sat alongside him.
A wonderful melody was played by a nearby bard, plucking the strings of her small lyre in front of the fountain with a cheerful smile on her face.
You felt something behind your neck and turned your head towards the Fatui Agent. His arms were extended comfortably and he was unaware that he had touched you, peacefully enjoying the music as his body slowly relaxed.
"Have you heard the news?" His deep voice was muffled and he began man-spreading his legs to make himself more comfortable. Your brows furrowed at his unprofessional behaviour but you dismissed it as a "mortal" thing.
