𝒮𝑒𝓇𝑒𝓃𝒾𝓉𝑒𝒶

❥𝙲𝙷𝙰𝙿𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝙵𝙾𝚁𝚃𝚈-𝙵𝙾𝚄𝚁

Legs perched up against the table and arms thrown around the back of the couch, a man with short purple hair lounged disinterestedly as his head was thrown back to stare at the ceiling of the room he was in.

The woman who sat across from him, in a similar state of boredom, silently crossed her arms under her chest as she rested one leg over the other. She openly glared at the boy that sat across from her, the two allied but not friends by any means.

Her lashes brushed against the mask on her face uncomfortably as she blinked, making her reach up and shift it around. She pulled the coat around her body closer to her as she felt the cool breeze of the vents hit her, the place less than luxury but necessary if they didn't want eavesdroppers.

Neither glanced upwards when the wheels of the old entrance door screamed as it slid open, heavy steps reverberating throughout the room as a taller man walked in before closing the door behind him without saying a word or even knocking before entering.

Scaramouche's neck ached from the position it was in for the longest time, placing the palm of his hand gently behind it and rubbing as he lowered his gaze to look over at the ginger haired man who stood by awkwardly with his arms crossed over his chest. When he titled his head, the ornaments attached to his hat chimed pleasantly, however his temper was far from pleasant at the moment.

His lips upturned into a sneer as they made eye contact, the words he spewed being spat like venom as he openly belittled the man in front of him.

"Finally! Well, is your task completed?" Scaramouche asked while removing his feet from the table while Signora silently listened into the conversation as she recalled her task from not too long ago.

Tartaglia gently shut his eyes, recalling all the information he had gathered before answering with a firm shake of his head.

"No."

A scoff fell from Scaramouche's lips as he rolled his eyes, his legs spreading open as he clasped his hands together and rested them in between his legs and leaned forward. Signora let a similar scoff pass her lips, though she continued to silently listen knowing that there must have been an explanation no matter how trivial it would be.

"Of course not, how incompetent." He mused, not seeming too surprised, but disappointed nonetheless.

Tartaglia felt his irritation grow at the response, already knowing that was the reaction he would receive, however he had thought the comment was an unnecessary addition. He let his hand discretely slide into his pocket as his fingers gripped onto the object within, feeling it press against his skin and scrunch together when he applied pressure before releasing the grip but leaving his hand stationary there.

"Listen, I wanted to see if we really had the right person. I myself confronted them and even hired people to get close to try and reveal something– but they seem completely innocent to me. I may be a bad guy, but I'm not going to kill an innocent person without solid confirmation." He said while recalling the strange girl and her bird that were notorious for gathering information in Mondstadt. He had paid them a hefty sum in order to gather information on the person they were targeting, and when they returned with nothing incriminating, he was half disappointed and half relieved.

Scaramouche didn't care much for the sentimentals regarding someone being innocent or not, so he let his face scrunch up in disgust, physically reeling back and pressing himself further into the couch as he glared between his two colleagues.

"This is why I loathe working with you two– and anyone else for that matter! Do you know how vital it is that they are wiped from the surface of this world?"

Signora lifted her leg off from the other as she glared over at Scaramouche, Tartaglia retaining a neutral expression as he didn't let the comment bother him since he mutually felt working with them wasn't the best thing in the world. He wouldn't complain if he was allowed to fight and if the others stayed out of his way, but with a bunch of egotistical supremists like the Fatui harbingers, there was very little chance of that happening.

Signora glanced over her left shoulder to throw Tartaglia a look before continuing to stare at the silently angered boy who impatiently waited for one of them to respond.

"I would have slain them long ago if it were my responsibility, plus you say that as if anyone genuinely enjoys working with you either." Signora spat, Tartaglia raising his eyebrow and nodding his head to agree with her which made Scaramouche clench his jaw.

"Listen here you–"

Before the topic can be derailed and delve into internal conflict within the three that should be working together, Tartaglia stepped in as he walked closer and raised his hands up to stop him from talking any more.

"Okay stop! Of course I know how important it is, but the item we are seeking wasn't on them! I searched them thoroughly when they were unconscious and found nothing. I certainly would have felt its aura as well, but it was not on their person." He confirmed before quickly adding on,

"With all due respect towards the Tsaritsa, they do not have it. I'm sure of it."

The three remained in a tense silence, the air they breathed in almost suffocating if it weren't for the fact Scaramouche let out a small snort before shaking his head back and forth and responding.

"Fine, whatever. I'll deal with this myself since your feelings will just get in the way."

Tartaglia shrugged his shoulders, uncaring on whether or not Scaramouche decided to go out an kill them outwardly— but internally he felt conflict arguing with his conscious.

Signora twirled a blonde strand around her finger, curling it and dropping it back into its straight position before repeating the process to pass the time. She spoke loud enough for the both to hear but didn't look over at either as she said,

"You're being a brat. Don't forget I'm here, and I'm not going to waste my time standing around doing nothing." She pointed out, wanting to add 'like we're doing now' but deciding against it as she didn't want to waste any more time here arguing.

Tartaglia, feeling the need to say something after her proclamation slid his hand from out of his pocket and placed it against his hip.

"If they really aren't defenseless and need to be put down, and you can prove it, I call dibs on fighting them." He said while briefly trying to imagine (Y/N) picking up a weapon and waving it against him, but honestly couldn't see it.

They couldn't even hold a fishing rod correctly let alone a sword, so he wasn't keeping his hopes high, but on the off chance they had some crazy fighting abilities, he would be far more excited to see them again than he already was. After all, he wanted to see the way their expression contorted to disbelief as he stood before them as an enemy.

Scaramouche shrugged before standing from the couch and grabbing a round item that was on the table beside where his sandals were rested earlier and sliding it within the hidden pocket of his clothing.

"Whatever, I could care less who takes care of the extra work. Just hurry up and finish the current task and we'll discuss this later."

With that, the meeting was dismissed and each of the harbingers were quick to go their separate ways as they planted their roots in Inazuma and began to execute their plans, ones that would leave the region in a disaster and conflict greater than what they were dealing with now.

What they didn't know was that Tartaglia held back a rather huge secret-- one that was contradicting to his own statement when he implied that (Y/N) was a regular human being. After all, when he had met them they had an awful wound on their leg, and when he inspected it while they were unconscious, he could clearly see that it was something that needed to be cauterized or even severed off.

To his surprise they played it off as nothing but a bearable cut, and not letting that situation slide as them hiding away their pain, he hired a member of the adventurer's guild a few days later and found the skin was perfectly healed and had no scarring or scabbing whatsoever.

In time, he knew that the moment he would confront them would arrive sooner rather than later since they were apart of a much rather bigger picture in the Liyue nation than any of their friends would come to realize.