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“Will you go to Mondstadt with me?”
Scaramouche looks at him with an expression that screams misery and reluctance. “Do I have to?” He whined. “Why can’t you take Sandrone?”
Tartaglia blinked. “How well do you think that’s going to go over?”
“Poorly. But she’s not me.”
“I want to release Signora’s ashes there.”
All traces of whining faded from Scaramouche’s face. “Why?” He asked. “She hated Mondstadt.”
“It’s the land of freedom, isn’t it?” Tartaglia asked. “I only thought…spreading her on the wind might help her find somewhere…free.” He huffed. “Nevermind, it’s stupid.”
"It's not stupid,” Scaramouche told him. “I…get it. We shouldn’t make her stay, not because we want her here.” He heaved a sigh before whining, “But do I have to come?”
“Sure, if you can tell me who else was her favorite Harbinger.”
Scaramouche blinked. “I’ll pack my bags.”
“Mondstadt is ugly.”
“At least their Archon doesn’t attack her people for having Visions.”
Scaramouche reluctantly agreed, as the pair of them made their way through dandelion fields towards the peak of Starsnatch Cliff.
“So what’s the plan then?” Scaramouche asked. “Do we just dump her ashes over the edge of the cliff, or wait for a breeze, or what?”
“Have you never spread someone’s ashes before?”
Scaramouche stared at him. “Do I look like I’ve ever spread someone’s ashes before?”
“No, but you also don’t look like you were originally built to house the Electro Archon’s Gnosis either.”
Scaramouche kicked Childe in the shin, and the Eleventh hopped his way the rest of the route to the edge of the cliff. Upon arrival however, both of them went still.
“So…” Scaramouche murmured, glancing around. “...what do we do?”
“Wait for the wind.” The pair of them turned, finding a bard in green approaching with far too cheerful of a smile on his face. “This is one of the best places in Mondstadt to find it.”
“And you are?” Scaramouche asked, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Only a humble bard,” the bard replied with a bow. Holding up his lyre he asked, “Would you like me to play you a song?”
“I want you to jump off the cliff,” Scaramouche muttered.
Childe elbowed him before asking the bard, “Is it legal to spread ashes in Mondstadt?”
The bard tilted his head, a fond smile on his face as he replied, “No.”
“I can’t believe you didn’t know that before we came all the way out here,” Scaramouche hissed. “That’s a two week trip by ship you just wasted!”
“I said it wasn’t legal, not that I was gonna report you,” the bard pointed out with a shrug.
Childe grinned and said to Scaramouche, “I like him.”
“I don’t.”
“You don’t like anyone.”
Scaramouche did not disagree. Instead he asked the bard, “Okay, great. So we wait for the wind and you’re not going to tattle on us, so you can leave right?”
“At most funerals, isn’t it customary for music to play?” He strummed a few notes on his lyre. Scaramouche stared at him before turning to Childe and asking,
“Can I throttle him?”
“Not in broad daylight.”
The bard laughed, and Scaramouche was pleased to hear an uneasy note to it. Taking a few steps back, he remarked,
“The wind is coming. I’ll give you some space.”
Scaramouche and Childe turned back to the cliff’s edge, as a cool breeze began to ruffle their hair. Together, they spread Signora’s ashes onto the wind, watching it carry her away over the sea.
“Should we say a few words?” Childe asked, when they could no longer see it and the breeze had died down.
Scaramouche shrugged. “Sorry you’re dead?”
Under his breath, Childe said, “You should be.”
Scaramouche scowled. “That wasn’t–” he lost his steam in a moment, shoulders drooping as he murmured, “Yeah. I know.”
The bard cleared his throat behind them, tone gentle as he asked, “May I?” Unsure of what he planned to do, Childe and Scaramouched stepped back from the ledge of the cliff, allowing the bard to step up and strum a few notes. Distracted by their own thoughts, they nearly missed his whispered words.
“Welcome home, Rosalyne. Be free on the wind, dear child.”
Scaramouche’s eyes went wide as the bard tilted his head in their direction before turning and making his way down the hill once again.
“Was that–”
“Don’t know, don’t care,” Childe told him. “Let’s be grateful we didn’t just get in trouble for trespassing.”
“Mondstadt’s the nation of the free, I don’t think their archon would kick us out.”
“Inazuma’s the nation of eternity, but your mother seems to be speedrunning her way towards making it the nation of a quick extinction instead.”
“I will punch you,” Scaramouche said. “Call her my mother again, I dare you.”
“You have to reach me first, shortstack.”
Scaramouche settled for punching Childe in the gut instead.