thingy
“Do you know why I’m here?”
"I've reflected since we last spoke," Aether elicits a strained bout of laughter, putting up his gloved hands in surrender, the lights flickering off the cuffs of his bracers the only source truly illuminating the dimly lit tavern room that they both stood situated in. Well, Aether’s room anyway. He took another step, making room for the other man, reluctantly allowing him to intrude upon his personal space.
Scaramouche simply steps farther into the room, his expression never changing. There is a distinct feeling of danger that radiates from him. His voice is calm, yet his tone is salient and sharp, and it is like ice on his skin. His eyes are trained directly on him, and he looks at Aether as if he would cut him in two at the slightest provocation. Aether swallows thickly, and he swears that he can feel him judging and analyzing your every movement. Everything he does seems to be very carefully considered, as even a slight wrong move or word might spell the end for Aether.
“And what conclusion did you come to exactly?” Scaramouche does not look amused at the implication of humor. There is an icy quality to his expression that makes Aether’s heart flutter in all the wrong ways. Scaramouche advances a few paces; his voice is still calm and yet he gets the feeling he probably shouldn't do anything to piss him off as his eyes burn wisteria into his amber ones. His words are slow, cold, and calculated as he speaks. "What did you learn from your reflection?” There is an uptick in his voice. Irritation.
Aether can feel the weight of the other man's scrutiny upon him, his every move and utterance measured and judged with lethal precision. The air around them crackles with tension, a palpable energy that hangs heavy between the two of them. Aether is not sure how he got himself into this situation. He supposed it started when he received a text message from a number he did not recognize on his phone.
- v -
It had come out of nowhere, the notification sound on his smartphone resounding a chirrup as an incoming text message came in. A stark departure from the usual mundane notifications he received on his phone. Aether picked it up without thinking much about it. He had assumed it was the adventurer’s guild letting him know that he had pending commission requests or maybe a bounty ticket that had been added at the last minute. He made sure that it was not a habit of his to spend hours idly texting friends that resided in other nations. One: that was far too much mora to be burning through. Two: he would not get anything done if he had to respond to each and every individual that wanted his attention. That had turned out to be far too many. Even civilians had managed to get his number. Now he simply did not give it out under any circumstances. He had one saved contact at the moment and that was Katheryne.
He had purchased a burner phone, and he only resolved to add contacts to it when they seemed to know something about his sibling. So, when he glanced at the screen, the overhead window containing not only an unknown number but a threat of all things, he found himself curious.
‘Don’t even think about it.’
His brows draw into a furrow, his fingers moving languid over the touch keyboard. ‘What do you mean?’ Aether tapped out. He did not know why he was responding to this, surely, he had better things to do, right? He set it down. His eyes were watching his phone even after the fact. He could barely place the almost agitated sort of anticipation that he felt.
‘Are you experiencing a sudden lapse in reading comprehension? Sound the words out if you need to.’
The traveler feels the curve of his cheek twitch at this. ‘You're so sensitive...’ He replies briskly, albeit he does not simply stop there. Aether sends one photo in addition, a simple one of his hand, middle finger up. The conversation already begeted too much patience. Barely two messages in and he wanted this person to go away. He was about to block them when suddenly the device started trilling, startling him from his thoughts. He stiffened, staring at the screen as it lit up in his hand. Incoming call. …. What the -
His heart racing with confusion, he gazed at the screen incredulously, wondering what in the world was happening. Aether quickly declines it, instead opting to send something into their open text window. ' Did you just call me? ' He writes slower than before. 'So eager to talk to me for some reason...' He feels a coiling in his stomach, an unfamiliar feeling that he usually felt only in combat. Was he anxious? Over what? This was just someone who had mistakenly started texting his number. A very rude someone at that. The typing icon blinks for a moment before it stops completely, disappearing altogether.
‘Are you trying to mock me?’
‘Who is this...’ Aether sends, worrying his lower lip with his teeth, and he tilts his head as he reads the almost immediate reply. He feels unsatisfied with the answer.
‘You’ll know my name soon enough.’
‘Please?’ The traveler can’t help but feel his face burn in embarrassment. He was debasing himself just to figure out a simple moniker, a name that he could give this insignificant person so he could have a little bit of leverage in their future interactions.
He shouldn’t think like that. He didn’t want future interactions.
‘No.’ It was short and curt. And it was followed straightaway with another message. 'I'm surprised you have the audacity to say 'please' after being so insolent. Should I teach you the meaning of respect?’
His own persistence mortified him just like he presumed that it would. He hated having the self-awareness, the foresight to be able to predict a particular outcome and still somehow manage to fuck it up. This meant only one thing to Aether though. He had already made himself look poorly, now he had nothing to lose. 'Please?'
‘No.’
‘Please?’ Aether could be just as irritating if he wanted to be when he was determined enough to be. He sighs out, the exalt one of exasperation. And when he does not receive a follow-up text message, he lets his gaze linger on the screen a little longer than before, watching the screen dim to black as his phone idly automatically locks itself.
It’s minutes later, and he’s running his fingers through his hair, working the tangles out of it when he hears his notification noise resound once more. He reaches for it a little too eagerly. Aether needs to see if he’s won their battle of willpower after all.
‘Scaramouche.’
Aether lets his head fall to the side in confusion. Was that his name? He didn’t know what it meant, so he inputted it in as a contact name as he navigated the small settings menu.
The way this person speaks is direct and to the point, a cold and sharp edge that heralds an almost cunning cadence, it contrasts with the traveler's own soft curiosity. Aether found himself barely able to keep up a rapport, the constant mood swings left him floundering for extra time to mull over how he should best reply. No matter what he what he came up with, it consistently seemed like it was the incorrect way to go about anything.
He figures that Scaramouche is getting over the initial curiosity and is slowly reverting to what the traveler discerned must be his usual arrogant way of speaking. Aether seemed a little wary of this. For good reason. The tension in the air felt tangible, and he struggled to find a way to defuse the situation. He holds his phone out, taking a photo of the closest thing in front of him. Paimon sound-asleep with a snot bubble blowing in and out of her nose, and he sends it.
‘Is that your little familiar or something?’ There's a shift somewhere, as though this person sounds like he is starting to be partially engaged in the sentiment of getting to know more about him to an extent. It is like he is becoming at least somewhat interested, which is terrifying to think about. Aether starts to feel as though someone like this taking an interest in him can only lead to an unpleasant future.
‘In the flesh,’ He responds. ‘Or.... whatever it is she's made of...’ The traveler adds on slowly, his head tilting even though his new companion could not see it. ‘Isn't she cute?’
‘If 'cute' means grotesque to you, then yes, she is indeed adorable.’
Aether winces, he can practically hear the dry chuckle. The other man is not even trying to hide the complete disdain he has for Paimon. Many didn't quite find themselves keen on her, but he hadn't even met her yet! His words are saturated with annoyance and irritation, which makes it obvious how he feels.
‘That thing really is following you around, isn't it? It's a surprise to me you have the patience for it.’
There is no hint of uncertainty or hesitation in his words as he insults the traveler’s companion. As if every word he speaks is absolute truth, the most accurate description possible, the only correct way of seeing the world. He seems to lack a filter entirely.
Interesting.
“You really think so...?” Aether muses aloud, letting out a small soft sigh. He knows that Scaramouche cannot hear him verbally, but he can’t help but to voice his thoughts. ‘It is just hard... to get her to consent to flying around with a bag over her head...’ He is being facetious, and he wonders if that communicates well over their chat. After a moment without getting a reply, he adds on. ‘I've kept you too long, right? You don't have to keep replying.’
‘Not going to block me?’ The other man ripostes immediately. Aether can tell that he is getting beginning to find the interaction tedious, albeit despite how unnerving he is, for some reason Aether finds himself unable to let the phone conversation just drop. It is like he is being drawn into him somehow. He is curious.
‘I don’t mind talking with you.’ Aether lies.
Before he can even respond further, the phone lights up again, another incoming call from the same string of unfamiliar numbers. Aether lets out a sound from low in his throat, an indignant sound of annoyance and arrant surprise as he fumbles with his phone. He should be sleeping; the sun had set after all. And here he was, on his burner phone that was not even set up properly, being bombarded with notification after notification because he had pissed off someone who was likely equally as bored as he was. He knew he should not take the bait. He should decline it again, he should roll over so that when his flying companion came to check on him in a few hours, he would be able to be at least cognizant enough to function. The phone kept chirping despite his inner conflicts. He accepts it.
The call connects immediately.
He is met with piercing static and a deep voice, one that is full of seething anger. Aether could not help but feel chills run down his spine.
“Are you trying to flatter me now?” he asks, his voice taking on a smooth, yet cold tone. There's a teasing and playful edge to it that has some underlying maliciousness. It's a very calculated way of speaking, like he's considering all his responses before he says something, testing to see what reaction he can get from Aether. “If you want to offer yourself to me, just say it plainly.”
Aether feels his mouth go dry, the crescendo, the growl punctuating each syllable, the sarcastic drawl, and the silence at the end of the query that somehow made it all the more intimidating. He was not expecting this. “No...” The traveler answers slowly, deliberately. He is not sure where this might be going. “If I wanted phone sex from you, I would have been far more seductive than that .”
"Well, well, well. Looks like you are starting to become a lot more receptive to me.” There was a lilt in the other man’s voice, and the traveler could practically hear the smirk from the other side. His voice is soft yet intimidating. It carries a certain sense of authority, almost a dominating aura to it that causes Aether to feel a sense of powerlessness. As if every word and sentence he speaks is law and there is no questioning him under any circumstances. In the mere seconds that it took for him to speak, it felt as though the universe was trying to convince him that this was the most important conversation he would ever have in his life. “What makes you think you could have me?”
“I was born of the stars,” Aether says in jest. There’s truth to it, he and his sister originating to Teyvat as shooting stars before their separation. “...and I have assisted almost every archon so far with their personal affairs.” He stretches out, his arms raised above his head. He was humble on a usual basis, he would promise. But for the sake of this conversation, he didn’t mind being direct. “You think I couldn’t have you if I really wanted you?”
"I was born of a god," Scaramouche responds without even a hint of hesitation, no modicum of anything but pure, unadulterated confidence that radiates from his voice. There's this sense of pride that emanates from him. An aura of superiority and supremacy. It is like his mere existence and being is the definition of being perfect. It is almost as if he is so sure that he is indestructible, that simply hearing him speak should instill this sense of awe in Aether. "Your stars pale in comparison to mine."
“I’m learning so much about you,” Aether replies, his tone friendly. Against my will. He doesn’t add the last part that he’s thinking, it would be rude after all.
"Well, you should appreciate that. Not many people have the privilege of being acknowledged by me."
Aether allows himself to laugh lightly at this. The arrogance was a little refreshing, a reprieve from the irritation and anger that emanated before. While he felt his trepidation ebbing, his self-preservation instinct was not one to be underestimated. He was still on his guard. “Are you going to let me hang up willingly then or am I going to go to sleep with you still on the line?”
"Does it look like I'm asking?" The other man's voice rings out clearly on the other side and he speaks in a lower register than before. There is an ominous tone to his words, his voice filled with ill intentions. Like it is dripping with malice. Aether cannot tell what he is thinking. He finds himself getting an eerie feeling with each passing second.
“...You really want to sleep call with me?” Aether’s brows raise, his surprise piqued. “It’ll be like you’re here, you’ll hear everything..” Everything.
"So then why are you still awake?" His voice remains uninterested. The traveler thinks that he can hear the sound of his tongue clicking against his teeth. There is no hint of emotion or any other tonality. It is just cold. Like it lacks any sort of warmth despite the intimacy of their conversation topic. Aether perceives that he can imagine it. Well, imagine what he thinks that this person may look like anyway. Scaramouche tilting his head and giving him a long stare, unblinking. "When that's precisely the idea," he says. Aether shakes his head; this person seems to find delight in the fact that this might make the traveler uncomfortable.
Aether does not say anything for a moment, a little taken aback by the acquiescence. He had not been expecting Scaramouche to relent to his teasing as he did. Was that even what this was? “You’d really do that?” he asks quietly. “How do I know you’ll actually fall asleep too?”
"Why else would I make that suggestion?" His tone is clipped.
Aether pauses for a moment, staring intently at his smartphone as though the device was going to suddenly nip or electrocute him. He handles it carefully before setting it down on his pillow, and then he lays his head down next to it. "You're really okay with staying?"
"Why wouldn't I be?"
There's a moment of silence. Aether hears the sound of rustling fabric and the shifting of covers from the other end of the line. His heart is pounding in his chest with an intensity that he hopes is not audible. How was he supposed to fall asleep like this? He plays it relaxed though and hopes that he is more convincing than he thinks that he is. Aether hums at the response. "If you're sure."
"I'm more than sure, brat." Scaramouche hisses out, his voice is more stern this time. The traveler feels like he is being scolded when he hasn’t done anything wrong. And then it connects for him. He had done something wrong though, hadn’t he? He had questioned the other man.
“Sorry,” he says. “I’m sorry.” The following pause is so long that he thinks that this person may have well hung up on him. But he had not heard that distinct sound from his phone, so he knew that he was still there. His eyelids flutter, he is having a harder time keeping them open now.
“... Sleep .”
And he does.