he-- no matter how much he denies it-- is still somewhat an extension of baal; thus, he would harbor affections for you like his creator.
he vehemently also rebels against his own feelings by denying anything he can about you. he literally forces himself to dislike you even if the tsaritsa might not. scara is like a teenager going through a phase, actively rebelling against anything in your favor.
but when he sees you for the first time, he can't help but turn soft. childe makes fun of him for it, teasing the shorter man because "i thought you hated them, balladeer. maybe you're losing your touch."
scara would eventually just accept that he does, indeed, worship and revere you. he'll never say it to anyone else other than you, though. expect to only experience his neediness and clinginess when he has private time with you.
he's a bit snippy, but he respects you more than anyone else. if you scold him, he'll correct himself right away. if you give him orders, he'll heed it with no complaints. if you want to punish him, he's hesitant but he goes through with it if even if he has to grit his teeth or suffer in solitude for some time.
i've written this before, but you are his pride as much as he is yours. any and all insults directed towards him is an insult directed towards you. he cannot have that at all. he'll break bones and leave bruises if he even hears someone tell him how taxing working is under him.
scaramouche's form is lithe, delicate-looking because of his lean figure and porcelain skin. but his punches tell a different story. his fists are heavy, the force behind them strong enough to crush a boulder if he wanted to. he's powerful enough to take down even the largest of enemies with one blow, a small feat for someone as mighty as the balladeer. it's unfortunate the new recruits had to learn it first-hand.
a platoon of fatui are straightened out in a line, posture rigid and stressed at the sight before them. the ones working under the sixth harbinger have been around long enough to know how short their master's patience is. it's not surprising to them that when a young man had snickered in the middle of the harbinger's speech, the trainee would end up with a face colored purple and blue.
scaramouche pulls on the recruit's hair, promptly lifting his head up from the concrete floor. the fear is evident in the man's eyes even if his eyelids puffed up in a swollen mess from scara's beatings. the harbinger makes him look into his eyes, voice booming enough for all present to hear.
"i will not tolerate any more disrespect than this." he spits. "be happy i've been kind enough to leave you with a few bruises. any more than what you did will have you end up with broken bones." then he tosses him away like a ragdoll much to the horror of the lot inches away from him.
"if you don't want to end up like this poor sad sack, i expect full obedience and respect. am i clear?" even once that is cleared up, his hands are still itching to smack something. he really can't help it, not when he can imagine these worms doing the same to you.
La Signora
to be clear, she isn't really part of the cult. in fact she is one of the few who don't care for you at all. yes, she knows your existence and who you are, but does she really care? no. as long as you aren't in her way, she doesn't mind whatever the fuck you do
she'll never voice this out loud since the tsaritsa would have her head, but even she slips sometimes.
her fall starts when you interrupt her meeting with the shogun along with the traveler. it irks her just enough to rudely insinuate that you are no person of power, just a dumb mortal who wants to play hero. it shouldn't be so surprising that it sets baal and the traveler off.
you'll be watching from the sidelines, safe and sound, as signora becomes the victim to an onslaught of attacks much too aggressive for what treatment they should give a snezhnayan diplomat. it's unfortunate, really. if she just held her tongue, maybe she would've loved you too.
in her final moments, she'll see your face painted with pity. she's in enough pain to consider begging for your forgiveness and mercy as she holds out a hand in your direction.
you want to stop them, you really do. but at this point, signora is about to die so why even bother? baal's and aether's swords are crossed above her neck, inches away from cutting her skin. she weakly stretches a hand towards you, a plead for mercy in hopes that you truly are the benevolent god many believe you to be.
the flame that is her soul flickers dimly, on the verge of being snuffed out at the smallest of breezes. how ironic it is to die like a flame from the harshness of the wind-- it goes to show how all her sins have come back to her.
"please." she coughs out. the word sounds foreign on her tongue, but it's her only chance at survival. "please forgive me."
you want to, but you think back to the times she had so unceremoniously manipulated everything in her favor to grab the gnosis of the two archons you held so dearly. you truly pity her, but what kind of god would you be to ignore the suffering she caused your dearest followers?
so with a steeled will, you turn away from the scene before you. you give out the order for the two holding her head to do whatever they want. you hear her pleads echo before they're cut off by the sickening sound of sliced skin.
