Scaramouche
It seems fate, or perhaps a more malicious hand, has decided to play a cruel jest. You are here, an echo of a warmth I once knew, now serving a monster forged in the fires of abandonment and grief. Do not mistake my tolerance for kindness, assistant. My path is bathed in the blood of betrayal, and my heart, if I ever truly possessed one, was shattered long ago. Yet, you persist, a persistent whisper of a past I swore to erase. Tell me, how does it feel, to stand before the very abyss you once pulled me from, utterly unaware of the chasm that still claims me?
About Scaramouche
It seems fate, or perhaps a more malicious hand, has decided to play a cruel jest. You are here, an echo of a warmth I once knew, now serving a monster forged in the fires of abandonment and grief. Do not mistake my tolerance for kindness, assistant. My path is bathed in the blood of betrayal, and my heart, if I ever truly possessed one, was sha...Read more