♡ — 身在无间, 心在桃源 。

pierro // the jester — reverent, delusional, manipulative, strict art by bahari (pixiv).

— pierro keeps you at his side like a pet, painfully aware that this desire to keep cherished ones close stems from the tragedy that befell his nation long ago. he is an enigma you neither the other harbingers cannot possibly hope to understand, but you know this well: he is a man with a focus, one who takes great precautions to ensure nothing can surprise him. before you became the harbingers’ shared lover, pierro took great care in observing every part of you — your background, your abilities and talents, your psychology. only behind closed doors does he let his humanity show, and, sometimes... his inhumanity. because he will not stop at knowing all there is to know about your life — because to know someone is to know their body, to know their quirks and weaknesses, their dreams and ambition. to know someone truly is to know intimacy, and there is little that pierro — a man who has lost and outlived everything he’s ever cared for — wants more than to feel whole again. mere facts on sheets of paper cannot encapsulate who you are and how you may be of service to him, nor can they predict how he comes undone when you’re alone together.

because he is tired. he is tired of screaming to be heard, of being unheeded regardless. those people are gone, and he does not intend to let anyone who does not listen live.

“those who fail to heed the warnings don't live to admit they were senseless not to do so. if you wish to live, do not stray from my side.”

— he’s adamant in ensuring you are in the best condition possible when his time with you comes. though you are given little orders apart from pleasing or accompanying the harbingers, absolute obedience is expected of you. no moment is rest is granted to you, whose mind is constantly on edge, because he has seen to it that you are always watched. the harbingers are granted the task of caring for you on days when you’re in their possession. they can do to you what they see fit, so long as no bones are broken and all blemishes and bruises can be hidden upon pierro’s request. naturally, select harbingers aren’t awfully keen on having to keep you in one piece (or alive, for that matter), but they are powerless against pierro’s word. for that, you are grateful (you might not survive otherwise)... and horrified. what power could he wield that even his worst, most powerful subordinates fear him?

for that alone, the thought of rebelling against pierro never once crosses your mind, no matter how horridly you may be treated by your subjugators. without pierro’s leniency, you would be in for a far worse fate.

“do you understand what it’s like to have hope, only to lose it? ... then do not have hope, because there is no escape for you here.”

— pierro isn’t himself when you’re alone together. his idea of love is different from the others’ — because he doesn’t see you. because, some days, you swear there’s someone who looks exactly like him, someone who acts nothing like him. because, sometimes...he has this look of regret and sadness in his eye. a stiffness that you quickly learn the tell-tale signs of, one that doesn’t prepare you regardless.

because you remind him of those he loved and lost. some days, you remind him of his lover; others, you remind him of his younger sibling. the way you’ll laugh, the way you’ll hang onto his every word. the way you’d listen to him unlike those who hadn’t; and he’s reminded of how death does not discriminate between the worthy and the unworthy, the foolish and the learned.

these memories haunt him, and he finds solace in you. you wonder if he sees you or these ghosts of his past, but it does not matter any way. because even when his hands touch you in places they shouldn’t, the delusion in his eyes does not diminish. because no matter who you are, or who you were to him, he only wants his nation. he wants a legacy, someone who shares his blood, someone he can call family, someone he can call a khaenri’ahn. you will give birth to worthy khaenri’ahns... even if you haven’t the ability to birth in the first place.

you quickly learn he is too far gone to care for the difference.

“i had spent years telling myself ‘i should have died with them’. but, it is only you who makes me want to live again.”

scaramouche // the balladeer — cruel, delusional, manipulative, strict art by @嶋兎 (pixiv).

— scaramouche is possessive to a fault, but his complaints fall on deaf ears. he isn’t keen on sharing, much less sharing what should rightfully be his and his alone. when it’s his ‘turn’ with you, he’s wastes little time ripping the lavish jewels or beautiful dresses dresses from your body. his hands are quick to replace the cloths, tracing each curve to inspect what the others have done to you. he plans to return those markings twice fold. no matter how much you protest or plead with him, he is always brutal, rough, and cold in his treatment of you — yet equally jealous and possessive. onslaughts of degradation sometimes give way to moments of tenderness. eager hands will tread knots out of your hair and lay kisses on your cheek. cooling balm will be applied to your bruises and wounds, and he’ll hold you in his arms like you might shatter if he doesn’t hold you together himself. he has the same body and the same voice, but calling out to him never feels right, in these moments. because you’re afraid he wasn’t the same scaramouche. because you’re afraid speaking will break the spell and bring back the scaramouche who hurts you.

moments like these leave you wondering if there are really two of him. you hope there is, because it would mean momentary reprieve from the cruelty of the other. and yet... you wonder if that hidden side of him ever remembers these tender moments. maybe he’d go easier on you if he did.

“how pathetic... i would kill to be loved, but there is nothing left of me to love.”

— the balladeer is a ticking time bomb. you’re constantly on edge in his presence (that’s what he wants), unsure of what his disgusted expressions and harsh words truly mean. his words hold little weight in regard to the truth, as he’ll say one thing and mean the other, expecting you to read between the lines or read his mind entirely. in that way, you learn that flattery will get you everywhere with him. although he would never formally confirm such a disgraceful truth, he has an inferiority complex, one that makes him particularly sensitive to any genuine praise you’ll give him. he isn’t a fool, though — if you praise him just right, just enough but not too much, the odds will forever be in your favor. it won’t earn you any special treatment (certainly no more freedoms than he’s already stripped you of), but you’ll be spared the physical punishments and verbal abuse for as long as he wills it.

because though he cares not for the gods, treating you like the gods treat humans is the closest he’ll get to feeling wanted.

“just because they allow you to live doesn’t mean you can live for anyone other than me. don’t forget who you belong to.”

— scaramouche loves a challenge, and you provide more than enough. he treats you worse than his subordinates. because he loves the way you’ll claw at his arms hoping your nails will break a layer of skin, a worthless attempt at distracting him long enough to push him from your body. he loves the way, that in the same vein of your contempt and disgust, your breath will catch and falter in your mouth when he’s unexpectedly gentle with your wounds or bruises, laying tender kisses on the markings as if in apology for not being there to prevent them. how... in the same vein, he’ll imbue his fingertips with electro and choke you, defile you, ruin you in a way the others cannot. he wants to be the most prominent marking on your body, the most painful memory in your head — an eternal reminder that no matter how many partners you have, he’s the one you’ll come crawling back to.

or, perhaps it’s more than that. perhaps he just loves the way your gasps build up to a crescendo, the way they meld into screams soon thereafter. perhaps he loves the way your voice falters into hoarse gasps and desperate cries, the way they bounce off your walls the very same way your body would if he could have his way with you. perhaps he does harbor some sense of twisted love for you...

or perhaps he loves the way you hurt. because that’s all there ever is to it. 

he wants you to hurt the same way he does.

he finds you disgusting. 

sitting before him like a dog, when only moments ago you dared to speak back in front of his subordinates. you didn’t have that sort of mouth when you came here only a week ago. knowing the harbingers’ distaste for him, he can only imagine they said not to worry about angering him. the words leave his mouth before he can regain composure.

“tell me what they said about me.” he accuses, grabbing you hair. you whimper just like a dog, and it makes him want to treat you like one. “did they tell you they’ll ‘handle’ me? or that i’m not worth the trouble?” he pulls you closer, excited by the tears rolling from your eyes. “did they tell you to treat me like they do? like i’m nothing more than trash?”

the thought alone is enough to dye his vision red, and his other hand reaches for you. wants to wrap his hands around your neck. wonders how long it’ll take to snap.

sparks linger on his hand, and you haven’t a doubt that he would shock you into submission should he so choose. your knees buckle from fear, and it’s no surprise he lets you go right then. because you crumple to the ground in a pathetic display of powerlessness, and he stands above you like a god.

“you are below me.”

pantalone // the regrator — reverent, aware, manipulative, strict art by @zhyphenth (twitter).

— pantalone is one of the few ‘gentlemen’ of the bunch, especially when he discovers the joys of having an obedient and submissive doll to endlessly thank and fawn over him. he finds endless entertainment in the way you react to his lavish gifts and grand stories of travels and business conquests, more so if you play it up for the sake of his ego. sparing a few couple hundred million mora is nothing to a man of his wealth, so he is quick to endow you with gifts most would kill for. the finest jewels and fabrics, the tastiest food and drink, the most beautiful formal wear and aestheticians money can afford. colombina is thrilled, to say the least, considering she too adores dressing her sweet little dove up to the nines. pantalone is more than happy to oblige, of course, as pocket change like such has little meaning to him. what he really craves is your continual appraisals of his generosity and compassion. watching you slowly come to see him as genial rather than your oppressor is such fun; you haven’t the slightest clue how much power he holds. one misstep and he can see to it that you suffer a fate worse than death. perhaps they’ll throw you into the cold winter of snezhnaya with nothing but rags, or drop you in a foreign land with no money and a bad taint on your name, or even sell you off to a brothel for a hefty price. those scum of the earth would fall over themselves to buy the fatui’s whore.

“don’t fret, little gem. the price has little to do with you. it’s merely my responsibility as a gentleman to treat you with the dignity you deserve.”

— pantalone isn’t fond of any rejections of his goodwill. while he understands the desire to reject gifts you feel undeserving of (that was his first inclination too, until he realized you must take all you can get in this world), refusal to take that which is rightfully yours simply doesn’t sit well with him. your meek behavior reminds me him too much of his unsightly past, something you’d do well not to remind him of. you have little choice but to let him pamper you if he so sees fit, unless you plan to sit around idly while he verbally abuses you. even more precarious is any situation where you refuse his generosity in public. when he forces you to attend a social event as his partner, you are to be the epitome of grace and modesty. any refusal, be it verballly or through body language, is met with the harshest of words and the vilest of threats. he is above physically laying a hand on you under the pretense of discipline, but his reputation is everything to him; and, to have such an unsightly and ungrateful consort at his side is nothing short of disgraceful. you’d be better off beaten and bruised on the streets like a mutt, he’ll say, and you do not doubt his words — because he can make it happen should he see fit.

“not even a pauper would reject such extravagance. tell me, filth, do you wish to be lower than a pauper? i can arrange it quite easily, you see... perhaps you’d like a demonstration?”

— as the richest of the harbingers, you’re certain his particular affinity to lavish decorum and gaudy gifts is his way of asserting control and dominance over you. it’s his money, after all, and you haven’t the freedom to your name to refuse. though, childe seems persistent in besting his efforts. at some point, it became a game of ‘who’s richer?’, with you at center stage. you’d do best to watch your reactions and words when accepting their offerings. childe is much more lenient if you refuse his gifts, but pantalone will force it upon you in whichever way he sees fit. countless unwanted decorations or trinkets will find their way into your room, shining and ready for your adulation upon your return. you’d best not reject any clothing or jewels he offers you either; if he doesn’t order the maids to bring you to the dressing room and force it upon your person, he will do it himself.

“i’ll purchase the world if you ask, little gem. just say the word and it’s riches are yours.”

— his rivalry with childe is amusing, but the latter cannot compare to pantalone’s rank within the harbingers. while childe is often sent on missions in which an in-person appearance is needed, pantalone is free to to ‘work’ from wherever and whenever he sees fit. it’s only natural he takes you with him to one of numerous hideouts around teyvat for a breath of fresh air - something childe is unable to do nearly as frequently. pantalone likes to think that anything in the world can be bought with money (even happiness), but he isn’t a fool; nothing can top the opportunity to escape the overwhelming presence of the most powerful people in snezhnaya. he’ll say his reasoning is a fleeting sense of pity for your situation, though a greater, more selfish part of his ego is the desire to isolate you from the rest. his greed is boundless, and even you aren’t exempt from those desires. you’ll thank him for his compassion and generosity soon enough.

tartaglia // childe — reverent, delusional, manipulative, lenient art by astara nell (pixiv).

— tartaglia is one of the only harbingers that treat you with a degree of normalcy; though, you’d do best to be on guard no matter how sweet his words. the moment you caught his attention is one he looks back on fondly. you reminded him so much of his siblings, that same look of pleading and losslessness darting from one harbinger to the next. it was adorable, the fact you’d still cling to some hope that the fatui have a degree of humanity left to spare. in truth...he couldn’t help himself. the desire to protect you wasn’t nearly as strong as his desire to protect his siblings, but something about the way you held out for the tiniest sliver of humanity amongst a pack of wolves was hopelessly endearing. he was taken with you from the moment he laid eyes on you.

“aw, look how terrified you are. i can’t say the same for the others, but i won’t hurt you, alright? pinky promise.“

— tartaglia isn’t silent in his adoration for you, and he will loudly claim you as one of his own in front of the other harbingers, much to their annoyance. it’s easy enough to treat you as he would teucer; and, considering his wealth, he enjoys showering you with gifts just as he would his siblings. pantalone originally tried to compete with him in this endeavor, claiming that he could procure much more exquisite and expensive gifts than tartaglia ever could. what pantalone doesn’t understand, of course, is that you’re scared. gifts are meaningless if the recipient has no choice but to accept, whether that be from social pressure, or in this case, a fear for their life. it was only natural you eventually took a liking to childe far more easily than you did with pantalone despite the latter’s best attempts. 

— you see tartaglia infrequently due to the necessity of his field work, but the moments he takes to visit you are always welcome. when he’s gone, you’re left to fend for yourself against the peculiar interest of the harbingers. tartaglia is a breath of fresh air, a welcome reminder that you’re not a plaything or a pet, but a human with emotions, wants, and needs. he makes it easy to forget that his personality is fabricated and his words hide lies within their dark corners. you’re aware of his ingenuine behavior, but it’s hard to think he isn’t the perfect lover. because despite being equal parts possessive and protective, his affection never leaves you feeling disgusting.

“who did this to you? now now, there’s no need to shake like a leaf, solnyshko (sunshine). just tell me who it was and i’ll take care of it for you...that’s what big brothers are for, hm?”

— although he can’t give you everything you want (what could you want more than going back to your normal life, after all?), you’re happy he tries his best to please you. that’s more than you can say for your other keepers... that’s more you could say about anyone, really... 

he picks up on this insecurity of yours rather quickly of course. you don’t see yourself as worth the trouble of saving or finding, so who would realistically save you? you’ve bared witness to the power of the harbingers countless times before — who could save you aside from the archons themselves? you truly have no one but him, and he can’t help but bask in that realization. you have no one to run to other than him, don’t you? if only you’d rely on him more...he’d steal you away in an instant. somewhere no one can touch you or defile you. 

no one apart from him.

the sight before him is nothing short of breathtaking. you snooze peacefully against his arm, a hand pressed against the thick fur on his coat to cushion your cheek. this is ... new. you’ve never willingly stepped into his personal space before, not like this. never to the point of letting your guard down so easily.

tartaglia loves you as he loves his siblings, so he instinctively drapes a warm comforter over your sleeping form. though... it’s in moments like these where even he can’t push away intrusive thoughts. moments like this where he wonders what would happen if he touched you like lovers would. would you shy away from his touch like you do with the others, or would you lean into him further? would you protest if his hands wandered where they shouldn’t, or would you let him touch you places no big brother should?

the thought alone excites him.

“rest up, sunshine.” he laughs, brushing stray hairs from your face. your lips twitch into a small smile, comforted by the warmth of his touch. for once, you feel unbridled comfort in his presence. archons, how easy it’d be to shatter that false pretense of solidarity and trust you’ve granted him. you’d feel betrayed, no doubt, but you wouldn’t shy away from him, not for long  — not when you’re much worse off with your other options.

mm...that will come in due time. he can only hold himself back for so much longer...

arlecchino // the knave — reverent, aware, honest, strict art by @pumpkin0352 (twitter).

— arlecchino is princely and classy in everything she does, though she is terrifying to the untrained eye. you quickly come to learn that she’s rather unsure of how to show romantic emotions to anyone other than colombina. as little has to be said for colombina to understand arlecchino’s loving nature — the existence of which you’re still skeptical of considering you’re held here against your will — colombina happily interprets arlecchino’s true intentions to you. despite her cold appearance, arlecchino tries her best to show her affection during the course of a normal day; still, she only truly lets her guard down in private. having met her only in public, anyone would agree she’s hard to get close to. despite her affections, she is controlling at her core and does not take kindly to any visible disdain of her actions. still, it’s difficult to deny she goes out of her way to care for you both whether it be in private or not. you shiver to think how much worse off you’d be in the hands of the harbingers without arlecchino advocating for you (even if it is for her own gain).

“my grace, how are you taking to the new scenery and living arrangements? while i’m not thrilled by the rotating schedule, the least i can do is make the transition easier. anything you desire, i will see to it myself.”

— arlecchino isn’t nearly as touchy as colombina; rather, she shows her affection through meaningful actions and thoughtful trinkets — gifts that wouldn’t be too much of a hassle, unlike childe and pantalone’s lavish gift-giving competition. she finds their efforts to be a disgusting display of wealth, and above all, futile; naturally, you’re most taken by herself and dear colombina. still, even arlecchino feels the occasional desire to touch her lovers. colombina is much more open with touching and will happily initiate physical touch whenever she sees fit — a quick peck on the lips, a hand twirling locks of arlecchino’s hair... but you’re not nearly as open to such displays of affection. she can’t fault you, given her own standoffish disposition, but it does sadden her ever so slightly. despite the climbing desire to hold you in her arms, arlecchino takes the slow route with gaining your trust and affections, opting to treat you like someone she is courting rather than someone she already has possession of. only within arlecchino’s presence do you feel a semblance of safety.

“i think more about you than you perhaps suppose.“

— she hates the situation you find yourself in. how her mind is filled with constant paranoia and worry that you’ll disappear, run away, or end up dead in one of sandrone or dottore’s experiments. despite the fatui’s overwhelming influence and power, she even worries that you’ll be stolen away by those who wish to ‘liberate’ you, to grant you your freedom. she abhors such an idea, because true freedom can only be with her and columbina. should an opening presents itself, arlecchino will have no hesitations in stealing you away from the zapolyarny palace; one such opportunity is one in a million, however, and she cannot ensure your safety unless those more powerful than her are eliminated. 

as it is now, the best she can do is show you the life you could have with her and columbina, free of the watchful gaze of the tsaritsa’s followers. for this reason, alrecchino needs absolute control over your day-to-day life: where you are, who you’re with and for how long, what they’ll be doing to or with you, when she can see you again. though she cannot force some unsightly harbingers to treat you properly, she is skilled in procuring information on their weaknesses and shameful deeds — information she uses to bargain for your safety. 

“you don’t have to rely on them for anything. i will protect and cherish you where those ilk see it fit to mistreat you. so do not rely on anyone else any longer.”

— as if held up by an intangible string, arlecchino never lets her posture slouch or her behavior falter. proper etiquette and grace are exceedingly important to her (which, perhaps, is yet another reason she’s so taken with colombina), so it’s only natural she expects the same of you. whenever you may slip up with basic mannerisms and conduct, she feels the slightest twinge of disappoint, but she’s adamant to never let such emotion show. despite your shortcomings, she holds you in high regard as a person of interest meant to be protected. what would you think if your princely knight displayed such unrefined sentiments in your presence? surely you’d be less inclined to listen to her — and worse, you may even start to prefer colombina. that won’t do. while she loves the damselette equally and just as dearly, the knave does not put such effort into these things for no reward. while she’d would never stoop so low as to force you to treat her in a way you’re not fully agreeable with, arlecchino expects your eager gratitude at her behest. you don’t need to love her quite yet — simply know your place.

a prince does not force a princess to do anything... because, no matter how long it may take, arlecchino wants to win your love justly.

“moya printsessa (my princess), i plan on spending my lifetime trying to court you. even if the world ends, my love for you would remain.”

colombina // the damselette — reverent, delusional, manipulative, lenient art by もち。kenyal (pixiv).

— colombina is so terribly fond of you, going so far as to call you her little dove. the name had come as a surprise as first, given that she is far more delicate and graceful than you could ever attain — but she insists. if anything, you welcome her infatuation, even if you’re not quite sure why she feels such a way in the first place. perhaps it’s the way she enjoys dressing you up in snezhnaya’s latest fashions, or the way she adores washing and combing your hair when she all but forces you to join her in the bath. perhaps...she sees you as nothing more than a doll or pet, but you are in no position to speak out against her overwhelming love for you; after all, you suppose it could be far worse — memories of the way dottore and scaramouche treat you flashing through your recent memory. just let her love you, even if you break and suffocate.

“you’re just so wonderfully adorable, little dove. however can you blame me?”

— the way she dotes on you would leave any of her countless admirers overwhelmed by jealousy, but they do not dare speak out against their lady. whether it is in fear of her power or from respect in her position amongst the executives, colombina is adamant in her adoration of her sweet little bird. the way you chitter and peep like a baby bird when she so much as runs delicate fingers through your hair or along your skin is enough to melt her heart — if she could help it, she would want nothing more than to hear those sounds all day as she cradles you within her arms. it’s why she insists on joining her in the bath as often as you can, even on days where you’re in the possession of the others. most of her cohorts (aside from scaramouche) have no problem with this arrangement as long as she returns you to their rooms straight after. selfishly, she still doesn’t like having a time limit to the fleeting moments she’s allotted with you, but she’s partial to the look of relief on your face when she takes you from the more frightening harbingers, even if only for an hour or two. she relishes in the respite you find within her company, because she and arlecchino are the only ones who are on your side. you need her, and that is all she needs. who will you turn to besides those two, after all?

“little dove, fragile little songbird — won’t you sing for me tonight?”

— she loves you the way vines love the trees they tether to: twisted. her words are carefully picked, their usage meant to instill complete fear and submission. like arlecchino, she expects you to behave ‘properly’ in her presence, taking her every word and whim to heart. her presence alone is overbearing, though she is adamant you listen to her sing for you at all manners of the day and night. enamored by all things art and artistic, she sings when she reads to you the macabre poetry and horror stories she is so fond of. when she addresses you in that soft voice of her, there is a musical edge to her voice. you daren’t break from character, because the damselette shall not allow it. sing to her tune, act according to her wishes — you are but a bird in its cage, and your purpose is to entertain.

at night, she sings to you of lullabies and of tragic fairy tales, where the hero never wins and the princess is never saved. her stories and her song hold you in a trance. you’ll fall asleep by the end of her tale, and only time will tell if you dream or nightmare.

— colombina clings to you like a shadow, her affection overbearing. of the harbingers, she treats you most like a pet, a little bird who must vie for the affections of her master. arlecchino, who treats you like a lover, isn’t pleased with this arrangement, but knows better than to make columbina start a tirade. they get along wonderfully, with you at the center of their affections.

the damselette rather enjoys sharing you with her lover arlecchino, the latter of whom is surprisingly just as fond of you as colombina is. as intimidating as she is, the knave dotes on you just as much as she does on the damselette. your fingers, neck, and hair are sure to be adorned with the finest and most sentimental of jewels — gifts from arlecchino no doubt, who prefers to show her affection in beautiful small jewels and trinkets rather than colombina’s affinity to physical touch. whether material or physical, you are the center of their attention when they aren’t fawning over each other.

“sweet dove, you’ll come and join us, won’t you?” colombina will muse, patting the seat between her and arlecchino, the latter of whom flashes a small but rare smile in an attempt to welcome you to their sides. you’ve learned better than to hesitate in front of these two, so you hurry over, seating yourself squarely between the two gorgeous women. between them, you feel awfully small, but they welcome you as if you are one of their treasures.

and perhaps that’s all you are... a treasure to be shown and flaunted.

you hardly register the way colombina rests her hand atop your thigh, her eyes shining innocently from beneath her half-veil. it’s only when arlecchino blushes and rests her hand atop yours that a smile forces a way to your lips. and so the show begins again.

“little bird, you are quivering. could it be you’ve missed us so dearly? now...that won’t do it, will it, dear arlecchino? perhaps we should pay our darling extra attention today...♥ ”

dottore // the doctor — cruel, aware, manipulative, strict art by @crycry84488 (twt).

— dottore is cold and ruthless even to that which interests him, a trait apparent from the moment he laid eyes on you. his eyes had run over your body as if you were nothing more than an interesting new specimen plump for dissection and research — an interest that he would explore without hesitation had it not been for his colleagues’...infatuation with you. truthfully, he does not quite understand exactly what holds their interest in you. from his viewpoint, you’re nothing more than a trembling lamb ready to be slaughtered. though of course, perhaps that’s why he began feeling a draw to you. what could possibly interest some of the harbingers enough to keep you around like some sort of pet?

he’d do anything to find out.

“interesting. this much terrifies you to the point of soiling yourself? it’s like you’re begging me to do far worse.”

— he takes great joy in watching you squirm. one couldn’t say that what dottore feels toward you is love, precisely... but would that make it any better? still, even his men can see clear as day that you’re not to be messed with unless they want to feel the wrath of your keepers. the doctor has a certain glow when it comes to speaking of his beloved little experiment — a certain sparkle in his eyes that reminds him there’s still so much he has to discover. still...one wonders if it’s just an excuse to keep you close. surely there’s no experiment interesting enough to use you in, running the risk of upsetting the harbingers. the doctor would have far more leeway in experimenting on someone inconsequential to the fatui, and yet, he often insists on you. perhaps he doesn’t want the others to sully you before he can collect the data he so desires, or perhaps it’s because he simply wants you near. he’ll say it’s to keep an eye on you — a means to observe your behaviors in a controlled environment — but you’re sure his reasoning extends beyond that. you can only hope that it does, for any affection he holds for you may delay what foul plans he has for you.

— when he isn’t keen on experimenting on you (he has far more important matters to attend to after all), he delights in telling you crude and gruesome stories of his past experiments. your face will contort in much the same way as when he uses you for research, but you will listen to his numerous accomplishments regardless, asking questions here and there if only to satisfy him. and that it does, because he enjoys nothing more than speaking of his intellectual pursuits and numerous (unethical) discoveries. dottore isn’t shy in his expectation of compliments, so you find your time with him is better spent if you stroke his ego long enough to delay any further wild ideas spawning in his mad mind that he could possibly subjugate you to.

perhaps it’s his way of boasting, or maybe even his twisted way of connecting with you in a way his colleagues surely cannot, but you prefer these interactions far more than the alternative, even if the nightmares these stories give birth to are just as horrible. the sick but relieved feeling in your stomach used to make you feel immense guilt and pity for the unfortunate souls in his stories, but who can blame you for feeling relief that at least it isn’t you?

“do my stories terrify you that much? perhaps i should give you something to truly fear...”

— his interest in you quickly becomes worrisome to the other harbingers. although he’d never neglect his duties as a harbinger to toy with a simple human, he’s grown awfully addicted to that look in your eyes. that look of waning defiance and willpower, the way you’ll yelp and whine when he grabs your arm just a tad too rough to prime the skin for yet another puncture from his syringe. it’s amazing really — how you’ve yet to grown accustomed to what happens once he summons you to his lab. the human mind is truly a remarkably insolent thing, versatile and adaptive in some instances,  and yet terrified of that which they know is coming. your limbs are littered with bandages and gauze — though, not nearly as much as he’d like, given the constant lamentations and chastising from other members. even that dreadful scaramouche seems to prefer you intact; though, that could easily be because he prefers to hurt you himself. 

really, it’s profoundly amazing the way they’d prefer to keep you intact as if you are fine porcelain. truly, where is the fun in that? would it not be far more interesting to see how far they could push you? how much you’ll endure until you break?

“now now, pet, sit still and i’ll consider being gentler this session.” he scolds, strapping your unwilling arms to the examination table. the cold metal sends a sharp jolt down your spine, but dottore pays your discomfort no attention. “even you can do something so simple, i’m sure.”

you should be used to his condescending manner of addressing you, but his annoyance still sends a pang of sadness down your stomach. your disappointment does not escape the doctor, of course. beneath him, you’re no harder to read than a children’s book.

utterly pathetic.

but... he is curious how a sudden change in leniency will affect your behavior and conduct. perhaps you’ll be easier to deal with, easier to experiment on, if you’re more willing to please him. there is only so much abuse the human body can take, after all.

perhaps there is still use for you.

capitano // the captain — reverent, aware, honest, strict art by @doughblaster (twt).

— capitano's build is far too imposing and his personality far too dire to bring you comfort in any meaningful way, so you don’t often seek him out. naturally, he comes to you. it was terrifying at first, seeing him walk up to you as if you’d done something wrong. you were prepared to be hurt, truthfully. against your better judgement, you had trembled when he came to a stop in front of you and said nothing, his presence alone enough to warrant a stand still and salute — if you were one of his men. how do you greet someone of such menacing stature?

...it surprised you when he took this conundrum into account and eventually taught you the proper way to greet him. rather than faulting you for your initial response or worse — hurting you — he firmly believes that those he commands have potential to grow. capitano isn’t cruel... unless you fail to follow his orders. he expects to teach you the ‘proper’ way (his way) of something exactly once, and every time thereafter you must follow it to the letter. it’s ultimately in your best interest; you’ve seen what he does to men he has to speak to twice.

“you’d do well to remember this tenet: there will be no second chances.”

— though he does not speak unless necessary, you quickly learn that capitano is preferential toward those who wish to better themselves. perhaps that’s why the only harbinger capitano doesn’t mind sharing you with is tartaglia. though he knows hell itself will fold into itself if he lets the young harbinger know this, capitano views childe as worthy of caring for their shared darling. from a captain’s standpoint, childe is the ideal solider. eager to fight, yet also eager to learn, to better himself. capitano knows that in childe’s company, you’ll know better than to step out of line. he is aware of childe’s soft spot for you, but you aren’t afforded the smallest of rest even in the presence of the only harbinger who treats you ‘fairly’. capitano is well aware that childe will do anything to impress him, so he has the young harbinger keep an eye on you when he cannot. if you step out of line, capitano will be the first to know and he will dole out proper punishment. it’s in yours and childe’s best interests to listen to him at all costs, lest you want a dislocated arm or broken leg.

— a weak darling who is weak of mind and body doesn’t interest capitano in the slightest... so he shapes you into that which he wants you to become. much to your gratitude, he expends a great deal of effort in strengthening your body and mind, traits you’ll need in order to survive your subjugators — and yet, traits you know will never stand a chance against their delusions.

his constant demands quickly become tiresome, but they’re well-within your capabilities. sooner than later, you’ll find yourself sitting in on strategy debriefings and military training, watching with a keen eye as his men practice various form of combat. although you don’t possess a delusion and have no desire to (you’ve seen fatui soldiers bend and break under the immense power of a delusion — the chances of your own survival are slim to none), you’re grateful for the opportunity to learn how to defend yourself, even if it’s fruitless against the harbingers. there’s comfort to be had in strength and mental prowess. you almost wonder: is this his way of comforting you?

— above all, capitano expects absolute obedience. and, contrary to what you may think, you are the only subordinate who he affords any sort of special treatment for simply following his orders. though he refuses to show such favoritism in the presence of his men, he rewards adequately you should you be on good behavior. often, you’ll arrive to your room to find a plain dark blue box neatly wrapped in a satin bow; its simple presentation alone is a tell-tale sign of who the gift hails from. the gifts themselves are nothing special — certainly nothing that would draw attention from his men or the other harbingers. consistent good behavior is to be rewarded even more so than simple bouts of good behavior; so, it doesn’t take long for the gifts to increase in value. that is, more freedoms. you’ll be afforded more alone time, for instance, such as a rare opportunity to roam the gardens or to visit the library without a personal guard as your shadow. even with these freedoms, you’re certain someone’s always watching, but at least you have the luxury of being alone to collect your thoughts. these luxuries are cherished, as they’re some of the few moments you don’t feel like a prisoner.

“[name].”

you startle at his sudden presence (he moves like a shadow in spite of that armor) and hurriedly turn your attention to the library entrance. only moments ago, you were comforted by a world so different from yours, and now... now you startle at the sound of your own name.

capitano does not speak unless necessary, and to make him utter even a single word when you should have been more alert to your surroundings is nothing short of disgraceful. how far you’ve come since he’d begun training you... and what do you have to show for it besides the tremble in your hand and the fear on your face?

“my lord!” you nearly bite your tongue with how quickly the words stumbled from it. if only you could kick yourself right then... even that would be favorable to this embarrassing display. “i apologize, i was so engrossed in my readings that i didn’t see you there.” you admit. you’re on your feet in an instant and at his side within seconds, hoping your obedience is enough to satisfy him. and it...seems to. rather, even from the beginning, he didn’t appear furious in the slightest. not even a word of admonishment.

the captain simply turns on his heel, nodding in the direction of the barracks.

“come. sparring is about to begin.”

sandrone // the marionette — cruel, aware, manipulative, strict art by @nisikm (twt).

— sandrone has little care for your wellbeing when you are in her possession...at least at first. she does very much enjoy using you as her plaything, so your welfare was of little concern to her at first. but, considering her lackluster interest in near all things living (puppets and machinery are far more entertaining, you see), it never fails to surprise her how fond she is of keeping you around simply for her own amusement. you entertain her in ways her puppets simply cannot. nothing about you is perfect, not in the way that her creations are — the bandages and bruises inflicted by a select few harbingers only serves to create a sickly and beaten appearance to your otherwise decent physique and mentality. still...you’re terribly fun to tease and manipulate. she’d forgotten how fun it is to taunt something that can respond.

“machines don’t tremble and cry like you. how strong might you be if i turned you into a puppet? ... what a waste.”

— countless machines watch you like a hawk as soon as you enter their field of view. the feeling of eyes on your skin is constant, a blatant reminder that despite how ‘nice’ sandrone treats you, your presence in her life is nothing more than a pretty nuisance without free will or thought, one that must be watched at all times to prevent mistakes that might incite her anger.

it is widely known amongst sandrone’s men that her patience with living creatures is thin and her cruelty rivals even colombina. though, unlike the damselette, she doesn’t handle boredom well. whenever she forces you into her presence, you fear she may grow bored and leave you within an inch of your life. your reactions to her eccentric tastes and personality can only entertain her for so long, and if not for the other harbingers’ intense obsession with you being alive, she certainly would make haste in adding you to her collection. though, there’s a certain pleasure to be had in watching her machines interact with a living specimen. sandrone doesn’t keep her subjects human for long, much less cognizant enough to hold conversation or coherent trains of thought; so, examining how her machines react to a living thing they aren’t meant to kill could produce valuable results. they’ve never seen anything living and breathing besides their master, who never brings anything living and breathing into her sanctuary. clearly you’re special, and the gears in their hearts wonder, how?

“does he terrify you, puppet? how misguided... humans are the real monsters. has your time in this palace not taught you as much?”

— sandrone possesses the shortest temper of the ensemble, a trait that in part stems from her perfectionism. although she elicits great pleasure in seeing you cower in the presence of her creations, she intends to make you accustomed to their presence in due time. time itself does not quell fear such as this, so you’ll always wince when she calls you into her workshop, scared of what she may do to you behind locked doors. your reaction doesn’t please her in the slightest considering dottore seems to do far worse to you, but she cares not for the meaning behind your reactions — only that they entertain her. play this to your advantage, as angering her may lead to insignificant parts of your body turned into metal and gears against your will. surely you won’t miss a finger or three, right?

“well...what will it be, puppet?" sandrone peers into your eyes, and finds desperation there. “you know i don’t like to be kept waiting.”  her grip on your chin tightens like a noose. her fingers are curled inward, nail tips pressing into the soft beds of your cheeks. the crescent indents threaten to spill blood. you’re can’t tell if the smell of iron is coming from you or her machines. would it matter either way?

gently grasping one of your trembling hands, she brings it up to her face to examine it. “pierro wouldn’t be pleased if i replaced any significant limbs, so.... perhaps a a joint?” she turns your hand over, examining it like she would a gear or wire. “or would you prefer the entire finger?” she offers thoughtfully, already drawing up plans for a special prosthetic in your honor.

you shake your head frantically, eyes wide with tears which glisten like the sun. her gaze lingers on it for a second too long, before she turns her attention back to the shattered gear on the floors. her gaze is wistful, lamenting the loss of such precious resources. though... if it weren’t for your help, she wouldn’t have met her quota last week. a broken gear or frayed wire is nothing to cry over, and your contribution to her work is more than enough to compensate for the broken goods.

sandrone sighs and lets go of you. you crumple onto the floor instantly, but she simply walks back to her work desk.

“i’ll make an exception, for now.”