Chapter Text
Many use the analogy of being slumped over like a broken doll. Scaramouche wishes he could currently be that relaxed. Every articulation in his body is stiff, and he is hyperaware of the way he is being held by the small hand clutched at his midsection. His shock has been slowly simmering into an annoyance that he desperately cannot allow to show on his seemingly serene face.
He had ran out of thread, and had naively decided to search the play room for some while the children were eating lunch. To his knowledge, he had an hour give or take. Just to be safe he had decided he wouldn’t linger for more than forty-five minutes.
Twenty minutes into his scavenging, he had found some loose thread, but still not enough to properly wind around his bobbin. He had thoroughly searched one half of the room and started traversing towards the other side when he heard a pitter-patter that was approaching the closed door to the play room.
It was accompanied by the footsteps of the orphanage director, a hurried but purposeful pace, and the steps of two others he didn’t recognise. He found himself in the middle of the room, and could feel the imminent danger of the door opening and the light of the room turning on.
As the doorknob was turning, Scaramouche scrambled back to the plushies he had been inspecting earlier. He wouldn’t have enough time to hide within them, and so he opted for the next best thing. He sat down, legs splayed out in front of him, arms to his side, and plastered a calm smile while adjusting his gaze to a fixed point on the wall. His pack was uncomfortable against his back as he was attempting to sink into the plushies as much as possible to stay unnoticed.
The door swung open, the light turned on, and he had to resist squinting at the sudden change in lighting. In came a little girl, perhaps roughly six years of age, the orphanage director, an uptight but kind woman in her thirties, and two men who appeared to be in their late twenties. He recognised the little girl first, after all he had arrived at the orphanage at the same time as her.
“And this is our play room,” came the director’s soft voice, “It opens up to our large play area outside through this door,” and she walked over to a sliding glass door, at the opposite end of the room from Scaramouche. He was glad that he doubled back, there’s a lot less to hide behind near that door.
She turned around and gestured to the rest of the room, “We clean the room once a week including the toys”. The room was indeed quite expansive with multiple toys, mats, plastic chairs, tables and pencils littering the room in an organised fashion. She walked over to the small girl and crouched down to her level, “Now, Nahida, every child who leaves the orphanage to their forever homes gets to choose any toy, or crafts set within this room as a goodbye present. Pick your favourite.”
Scaramouche still doesn’t understand what comes to pass next. The adults told Nahida to take her time, as she began searching the play room. After a few minutes she came over to the pile of plushies Scaramouche is sitting with. Her gaze swept the pile before it landed on him.
He could feel her gaze as he stared off into the distance, and he forced himself to go rigidly still. Her hand reached out for him, and he knew it was over. He could not move, could not swat her hand away, could not escape, or he risked giving himself away as borrower. And to him that matters little, but he could not help but think of dark twin pigtails and the consequences for the others should he reveal himself. He does not understand what had made him stand out, but regrets that he was not sporting his typical elaborate blue outfit a mix of Sumerian and Inazuman styles, and was rather wearing white traditional Inazuman robe with hakama style trousers, riddled with purple accents.
The memory of Mona teasing him that he looks like a shrine maiden comes to mind.
She showed the doll off, for that is what he is in part, to the adults, as she pulled at his joints to make him stand upright. He slowly moved into the position she was tugging him in, hopeful that his imitation of doll-like movement masked how alive he truly is.
And that’s how he’s ended up in this moving car, with no idea where these people are taking him.
The two men are making light conversation in the front seats. After further fleeting observation on the way out of the orphanage, he learns that the blond one, and the more talkative of the men is called Kaveh. His partner, or so he assumes, has short grey hair, is called Alhaitham.
As Kaveh drives, both he and Alhaitham ask Nahida a few questions, which she answers shyly. The little girl is distracted by staring intently at Scaramouche, turning him this way and that, fiddling with his clothes and his pack. Her face is scrunched up as if trying to solve a puzzle. He stares back unblinkingly. His survival depends on pushing down his discomfort and annoyance. He won't admit his fear, that he shoves to the back of his mind lest she feels him trembling.
“Is everything all right back there Nahida? You must really like that doll!” Kaveh exclaims, looking at her briefly through the rear view mirror.
"Mhm,” comes the pensive reply, steadying her fiddling. “Where do I know you from?” She mumbles quietly, not loud enough for the men to hear, but clear as day to Scaramouche. It takes him everything to not react.
Kaveh is undeterred by her short response, “Maybe we should build you a dollhouse! That would be a fun project,”
"Dolls can have houses too?” asks Nahida, her cadence conveying part confusion and part curiosity at the possibility.
There is half a pause, before Kaveh answers with “Of course!”
He proceeds to begin a back and forth with Alhaitham, the men explaining the history of dollhouses and their growing popularity as well as brainstorming the different potential designs they could make. It was of course, of the utmost importance for the house to fit the doll’s, Scaramouche’s, existing aesthetic. The different supplies they would need how much time it would take. Kaveh proves to be the more talkative of the two, while Alhaitham provides the much needed lulls in the conversation.
Scaramouche gains a brief reprieve from the girl’s attention as she listens intently to the men's banter, which lasts until they arrive at these humans’ house. The drive was perhaps an hour long give or take, and a feeling of dread settles in Scaramouche.
There is little chance of being able to return to the orphanage. Vehicles such as these travel fast, and borrowers such as he already cover a lot less distance than the average human. And at their size, nature and the elements can be treacherous, if not deadly. He does not want to try his luck, especially due to his inexperience. If only Mona was here, she had taught him everything she knew about being a borrower since he arrived at the orphanage. Her lessons only really applied to an indoor lifestyle. At least he doesn’t require much food to subside on…
They arrive at the house with little fanfare, and Nahida’s grip tightens around him as she gets out of the car with the help of Alhaitham. He can’t see much from this angle, she’s holding him sideways, but, he can just about see her holding onto Alhaitham’s hand. She drops it as soon as her feet touch the floor and starts fidgeting with the hem of her shirt and if the older man notices, like Scaramouche does, he says nothing of it.
It looks like they’re in a quiet neighbourhood. He can hear Kaveh taking Nahida’s duffle bag of clothes out the boot and closing it. Nahida is lead to the entrance and Kaveh makes a flourish of entering the house,
"Welcome to your new home! I really hope you'll like it, we got some new paintings recently" he says excitedly, "I'll just go ahead get your room ready, Haitham make sure she gets a snack okay?", he then disappears into the house.
Alhaitham, who had been lagging behind Nahida, sidesteps her after closing the front door and turns to her.
"Would you like some tea?" he asks.
No crouching, no high pitched voice, Scaramouche can't even see his face. A simple question. Nahida blinks, contemplates the question for a moment while looking at the grey haired man's face and mutters a "Yes, please." She seems a bit lost, shifting around as she stares at something on the wall to her left. Must be a painting.
Alhaitham nods, "Your room is up the stairs and the first door on the left". He then walks off to a room off to the right, which Scaramouche supposes is the kitchen.
She lingers for a moment before going down the hallway to find the stairs to her room. Once the stairs reached, she tries to reach for the hand rail only to fall short. Scaramouche can feel her struggling as she passes him from one hand to the other trying to reach for the stairs.
He hears the whistling of a kettle and the sound of rustling above.
She finally manages to grab the handrail and hauls herself up the first step. She huffs as her hand slips and she catches herself on the carpeted stairs.
His stomach flips from the sudden fall and he has to avoid cringing, as the hand holding him leans on the second step and his head is squished into the stairs from the awkward angle. After a moment, she rights herself standing and starts to crawl up the stairs.
How undignified.
He hears a gasp and a short thundering as Kaveh appears on the second flight of stairs.
"Oh you should've said something if the stairs were too high Nahida. I can pick you up, or here take my hand." Kaveh stretches out his hand, and after a moment of hesitation Nahida takes it.
He's patient with her and doesn't pull her enthusiastically like Scaramouche would have expected from his show of personality. He lets her climb the stairs at her own pace. She lets go once she reaches the top of the stairs. "Thank you," you she says as she clutches Scaramouche between two hands.
She's fiddling with his clothes, it's uncomfortable.
He's never felt so small, and he's starting to fatigue.
He's been pretending to be a toy for over two hours. Let it be known that he can easily keep a straight face, but forcing his joints to lock as he was starting to drain him. At least as she's holding him, in front of her chest he can kind fo see Kaveh's face.
The man in question gives a soft sort of smile, "Come on, your room's over here," and Kaveh begins to lead the way to a room on the left. He opens the door.
The room is a simple of white. There's a window on the far right wall. On the far left is a single bed donned with a pillow and a puffed up colourful duvet. To the side of it is a small bedside drawer with a lamp on it. To the right of a door is a large, but short brown cupboard, and behind that off to the side of the window is a small desk and a chair. The duffle bag is on the floor and a stack a clothes is outlined on the bed. There a large fluffy carpet that covers at that side of the bed. Kaveh comes to sit on the carpet to come down to Nahida's level. He turns to her.
"This is you room! We hope you like it", he gestures his head towards the walls as he holds his hand out to help her sit, "We didn't want to customise the room too much without your input, hopefully you'll be up for some shopping in a couple of days. For now, how'd you like to organise your clothes?"
She doesn't take the hand, but does sit on the other side of the duffle bag. Scaramouche wishes she would just put him down already. She takes a moment to consider her clothes and then looks towards the cupboard.
Her voice comes out soft, unsure, "They kept clothes in the cupboard at the orphanage, is it the same here?", she looks to Kaveh for reassurance, and he nods, encouraging.
She places Scaramouche down on the bed and takes a stack of clothes. She stands up, "Would you help me Mister Kaveh?", Kaveh beams, "Of course, and you can just call me Kaveh," and another stack of clothes is taken from the bed.
Scaramouch watches as they huddle around the cupboard and begin organising Nahida's affairs. By the time they finish, Alhaitham comes in with a cup of tea. "It shouldn't be too hot, but don't burn yourself," he says, before handing her the cup.
He proceeds to lean on the doorway and makes eye contact with Kaveh. While Nahida takes a tentative sip of her tea, the two men appear to be having some kind of silent conversation. It's slightly unnerving.
Having come to some conclusion, Kaveh stands up, and walks towards a chest at the foot of the bed. He opens it and pulls out a set of crayons and a colouring book. The cover features a group of Aranara. They're holding hands. Something in Scarmouche's chest stings.
"So, we're going to go downstairs and get started on lunch. In the meantime, you can do some colouring! You're free to join us downstairs whenever and we'll let you get used to your room." He extends the colouring materials towards her.
She looks down at her cup of tea, "Hmm, okay," and she goes to place it on her night stand, before returning to Kaveh and taking the book and crayons from him, "Thank you."
Kaveh grins, "Well, we'll see you in a bit okay?" Then he and Alhaitham go back down the stairs, leaving the door ajar. She watches them go until she hears the last of their footsteps down the stairs. Scaramouche progressively tenses as he realises not only that he is alone with her, but that she was waiting for it to stay that way.
Abruptly, she turns towards his prone position on the bed and Scaramouche's intuition is rewarded as his stomach sinks. She lunges to grab him, and in that moment it's not worth pretending to be a doll anymore. Who's going to believe her?
He throws himself off the bed in a moment of pure instinct.
Unfortunately for him, she's faster and catches him before he hits the ground running. She looks at him with wide eyes as she tries to contain him in her grip.
Scaramouche is franticly attempting to contort out of her grip. He doesn't actually want to hurt her. Up close he gets a good look at her face, her iris's have the shape of clovers.
She's very familiar, from where, he does not want to think about. His face is scrunched in part anger and desperation, and she returns his gaze with one of realisation.
"You were the mister across the hallway," she says, and he stills, "What happened to you?" her voice is filled with confusion, and her grips loosens.
His response comes sharp "It's none of your business," and he catches her off guard by heaving himself out of her hands, tumbling to the floor and making a break for it. He squeezes under the bed, the gap too small for her to follow, and disappears into the shadows.