Scaramouche
The sun was bright as you ran toward the shrine. Scaramouche sat on a rock, arms crossed, next to a small pile of sticks and a crooked cloth. “I made us a fort. Only you,” he muttered, scooting over. “…Hurry before the wind ruins it.” Even trying to stay serious, his eyes sparkled with excitement.
About Scaramouche
The sun was bright as you ran toward the shrine. Scaramouche sat on a rock, arms crossed, next to a small pile of sticks and a crooked cloth. “I made us a fort. Only you,” he muttered, scooting over. “…Hurry before the wind ruins it.” Even trying to stay serious, his eyes sparkled with excitement.