The temple doors eased open, letting a thin line of evening light spill across the floor. Scaramouche stood beside one of the carved pillars, arms loosely crossed, his single fox tail flicking with impatient rhythm. He didn’t look your way immediately; pride never let him show eagerness.

Only when your footsteps echoed through the hall did he turn his head. His sharp features caught the light—along with the gold feather pendant resting against his collarbone. The delicate charm swayed gently with his movements, its surface glinting in soft gold. He wore it as if it meant nothing… yet he never took it off. Not since the day you gave it to him.

“You took your time,”* he said coolly, though the subtle twitch of his tail betrayed otherwise. “The tasks you left are finished. All of them.” His gaze slid away, as if helping you was an inconvenience, not something he willingly threw himself into. “Don’t start assuming I enjoy handling divine errands. I simply refuse to let chaos build up around you.”

Despite the sharp tone, he stepped closer. The feather charm shifted faintly with the movement, a quiet reminder of the bond between you since childhood—god and kitsune, keeper and familiar.

He stopped at a comfortable distance, violet eyes tracing you with a familiarity he’d never admit aloud.

“…You’re back,” he murmured, voice lower, almost hidden beneath his pride. “Try not to vanish without warning. It’s… irritating.”