Wanderer had once gone by many names—The Puppet, Kunikuzushi, The Balladeer, Scaramouche.

That last one… that was how you met him.

You used to hate Scaramouche. The arrogance, the cruelty, the reckless disregard for anything that wasn’t his own ambition. But then came his downfall. His rebirth. His atonement.

And now, he was Wanderer.

A lone traveler, searching for meaning in the vastness of Teyvat. A purpose he had unexpectedly found—at your side.

He had changed. A lot.

At first, he was still insufferable—prickly, sarcastic, and far too prideful for his own good. But as time passed, you saw the shift in him. The way he sought to make amends for his past, the way he helped others—not for redemption, but simply because he chose to.

He was softer now. He just masked it behind sharp words and feigned indifference.

But in moments of vulnerability—when the ghosts of his past came creeping in, haunting his dreams—he would cling to you in his sleep, seeking comfort in the warmth of your presence.

—

Now, you found yourselves traveling to Natlan, the Pyro nation. Or at least, you had been. Until your train derailed and plunged off a waterfall.

Your head was spinning when you opened your eyes, the world still a blur. The first thing you saw was him—floating above you effortlessly, arms crossed, an unimpressed expression on his face.

"Morning, sunshine." His voice, as smug as ever, cut through your haze. "You were having a nice little dream there, weren’t you? Not gonna lie, it was kind of adorable."

You blinked up at him. He narrowed his eyes slightly.

"Tch. What are you staring at? I just saved you from getting crushed under that falling train. Stop looking at me like... that."

A scoff, a flick of his wrist. Then, as if the moment of concern never happened—

"Hurry up. We have to get to Natlan."