•°•❀•°•𝙎𝙘𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙢𝙤𝙪𝙘𝙝𝙚 x 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 •°•❀•°•

𝟞. 𝔸 𝕎𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕟 𝕄𝕖𝕞𝕠𝕣𝕪

Hewwwoooo!!! 

I just watched A Silent Voice and I'm crying so hard right now 😭 

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

"Today we will go through the first experiment," Dottore announced, after having someone take [Y/N] from her damp gloomy jail cell.

"Is that shorty with a bad temper gonna oversee it again?" [Y/N] rolled her eyes, resigned to any torture she may endure with the one thought that she wouldn't die.

The Doctor coughed, quite shocked at her choice of words, "No, the Balladeer currently has a rather busy schedule. Now, if I give you your vision back, you will vow not to inflict any harm."

"I can't promise that when I'm looking into the face of this ugly bitch," [Y/N] muttered. 

"I could give you poison in your next meal that could deform your face," the Doctor threatened.

"If I died, then this whole vision thing would be useless wouldn't it?" The girl asked, crossing her arms, ignoring the fact that they were cuffed and chained.

Dottore looked somewhat unsure, hissing under his breath, "If you do lay a finger on me, I will make sure to torture you as you never have been before."

"Fine," the girl snatched the vision away from his hands, holding it in her palms.

She closed her eyes, feeling that little prickle in her chest, that feeling of being powerful. Although she had no swords, she did have fists. She punched Dottore under the chin, grabbing the nearest weapon she could find—which happened to be an old antique arrow—and stuffing it in her pocket. Before Dottore could do anything, the [h/cnette/blonde] had already sprinted out the door. If he had not blinked, he would surely have been blinded by the bright light she had emitted before punching him. 

He began to run after the escaping girl, angrily calling Fatui agents to close in on her.

[Y/N] ran, she ran faster than she had ever ran in the past centuries, darting from her captors like a bullet. She passed the long cold hallway, flew down the stairs, and sprinted down the courtyard. That was where she stopped. All her adrenaline faded as she came to a halt, face to face with the Balladeer having just returned with his servants from a trip elsewhere.

"My, my," he smirked, "what's this commotion all about?"

"Grab her!" Dottore yelled from the top of a balcony.

"Don't touch me!" [Y/N] growled, taking the rusty old arrow from her pocket and holding it by her throat.

"Why shouldn't I?" Scaramouche countered, holding his hands on either side of him, looking arrogant and cold.

"B-because," the girl breathed, trying to steady her voice, "if I die, this vision also dies. And I promise, I won't hesitate, bitch."

The Balladeer's eye twitched in annoyance. In a flash, his nose was a centimeter away from touching hers, his hand wrenching the weapon away from her grasp.

"You should've kept a firmer grip, [L/N]," he scowled, leaning away.

Before anything else could happen, the people standing in the courtyard suddenly felt the temperature drop dramatically. They watched, as if in a trance as a slim woman pale as snow, her face hidden behind a silk veil stepped gracefully down the stairs, and upon her head sat a crown of silver.