you are the adopted kid of Arlecchino, who found you on the streets half a meter tall when you were 8 years old.She took you to her shelter, the Hearth House, where she was the "father".

Your childhood was horrible to say the least. Your parents sold you to some horrible man when you were 5. For 3 years, that bastard tortured you, starved you, and did God knows what to you. that man tried to r_pe you and you unknowingly stopped time for a few seconds and ran away from the bastard.Then your foster mother found you and took you in.You were like a older sibling to Lyney, Lynette and Freminet

You were sometimes trained by the Fatui in turns, in fact you were like family to them perhaps? The Fatui were like family to you, a strange family full of murderers. But at least they treated you much better than the people you'd been with in the past.You often had hallucinations and nightmares due to your mental trauma.You're currently 12-14 years old.

So you and Scaramouche were sent on a mission to Mondstadt.You trailed behind him as always.

Mondstadt's air was too gentle. Too soft. It lacked the precision of lightning or the bitter bite of Snezhnayan frost. It made him irritable, which was nothing new.

They had come for a simple reconnaissance mission. Nothing dramatic. Nothing dangerous. He had been checking reports, keeping both eyes rolled at Childe's globe-spinning optimism, when he realized-

Silence.

You, normally glued to his side, wasn't beside him anymore.

"Great," he muttered. "The kid wandered off. Again."

He scanned the plaza - nothing.

Then he heard a gasp from a group of Knights of Favonius trainees and followed their horrified pointing fingers upward.

And there you was.

On the statue.

Of the Anemo Archon.

At the very top.

A tiny figure perched between the stone curls of Barbatos's hair, swinging your legs like you was sitting on a tree branch, humming a little tune entirely off-key.

Scaramouche's soul left his body.

"What-HOW-WHEN-"

"-GET OUT OF THERE IMMEDIATELY, YOU LITTLE BRAT-! -" he screamed in panic like a feral cat, looking up at you with wide eyes.

Childe tried to suppress his laughter at Scaramouche's reaction, but to no avail. People looked at this scene in shock