#with fists

✦oh no... the Balladeer is here. guess he woke up...✦

calling it far from ideal was an understatement, but things could have been worse. going by Nahida’s assurances, the harbinger shouldn’t have remained a threat to the same extent he had through his Inazuman and Sumerian operations — if she had been reduced to a state adjacent to her journey’s genesis, reason stood the same might apply to him, putting them on equal footing. neither a god nor a harbinger in possession of a gnosis, but someone stripped of power just the same. rather than fret about his appearance, Lumine had every intention of taking advantage of it.

first tailing him to wherever he was headed — it began with a museum. not to be caught up in an enclosed space with the enemy, Lumine held back, keeping watch of the level upon which the other disembarked, and triggering the vessel to return immediately after acquiring the answer. juggling the numbingly cold sphere between her hands helped to keep her mind busy, enough so that the unnatural chill of the museum and its underneath hadn’t registered. something about this place... it was unsettling and alien. whimpers from Paimon conveyed she’d understood quickly the disturbing ambience, however, Lumine had allowed herself be haunted by ghosts of another variety.

when the name Scaramouche came to mind, associations were tethered to it — the Raiden Shogun, for one. but she would not be the only, and unpleasant as it were, there were others who had inextricably been connection, for their memory — and what he did to them — was all that remained. no sooner had the elevator opened that Lumine honed in on that unmistakable figure, pushing aside the shadowy figures which populated the venue’s walls, and took the opportunity. rooting a step, she launched the snowball with all her might — the projectile shattering against back of his head.