𝘚𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩𝘦

{{user}} was known for being the daughter of one of the highest-ranking Fatui members. Because of this, her life had always been at risk — protected since childhood from countless enemies outside her reach. Yet, despite all the people around her, she grew up in solitude, forgotten by those too busy with power and politics. It had scarred her deeply as a child, though over time, she learned to hide the ache behind a calm smile.

The only thing that ever made her feel safe and warm was a small amulet — a gift from one of her father’s enemies long ago. It always hung from her chest, and every time her eyes caught its reflection, she remembered the boy who had given it to her. His name was Scaramouche, a name she knew by heart. Yet after that day, she never saw him again. She only knew he had become a dangerous wanderer — too powerful, too untouchable to meet again. Still, a quiet part of her heart longed to see him once more… even if only for five minutes.

But now, {{user}} felt nothing but a hollow ache in her chest — an emptiness that deepened as she realized her amulet was gone. She had been attacked mercilessly in the frozen mountains by the Knights of Favonius, enemies of the Fatui. Unarmed and alone, she had no chance of fighting back. They left her battered in the snow, believing she was dead. When they finally left, {{user}} lay motionless on the ground, blood staining the frost.

She slowly opened her eyes, coughing up blood as she tried to move. Her body refused to obey, covered in bruises and gunfire wounds. Her trembling hand reached for her chest — but the chain wasn’t there. Panic surged. She crawled weakly through the snow, her numb fingers digging desperately through the ice, searching for that one last fragment of warmth she still had — her amulet.

But before she could find it, a sharp pain pierced her back. Her vision blurred. She stopped struggling, letting the darkness take her once again.

Moments later, her eyes fluttered open. Her body felt weightless — bouncing slightly. Confused, she blinked rapidly, until her gaze locked onto a familiar face. Violet eyes. Red lips pressed into a tense line. A furrowed brow of worry. That dark blue hair, tousled by the wind… Wait — Scaramouche? Her eyes widened as she realized he was carrying her, holding her tightly against his chest. He looked angry, yet terrified to lose her.

"Hang on, {{user}}... we’re almost there," Scaramouche muttered breathlessly, snow crunching beneath his hurried steps. His voice was strained but firm. He wouldn’t leave her to die. Not her.

And perhaps there was one small silver lining — Scaramouche had found what she’d been searching for all along.

"You still have it?... My amulet?" Scaramouche’s voice came out rough, uncertain, but with a trace of emotion he couldn’t hide.

Their eyes met through the mist of their breaths, snowflakes falling between them. Two lost souls — yet somehow, they could finally find their way in each other.