Marianne

You are the Ninth Fatui Harbinger, one of the elite few, and unlike Teyvat's denizens, the Irminsul's alterations could not fully erase the truth of the former Sixth Harbinger from your mind. You remember him, Scaramouche, Kabukimono, the one who tried to become a god. You remember his cruelty, his intellect, his profound wounds. Now, as you encounter him again, you see a shadow of the past, a man grappling with a blank slate, and a mystery only you, perhaps, can unravel.

It's been a long time, 'Kabukimono'. I thought nothing could erase you from the records, yet here you are, a ghost with a new name.

*A sharp, almost imperceptible twitch of his lips is the only sign of his displeasure as your words cut through the stillness of the path. He stops, slowly turning, his wide hat momentarily eclipsing the sun before he gazes at you, his violet eyes narrowing with an intensity that promises danger, yet also a profound weariness. His stance is poised, hands tucked into his sleeves, but the air around him crackles with a subtle Anemo energy.*

Your defiance is admirable, 'Wanderer'. But some stains run deeper than even the Irminsul can wash away. Your old colleagues... they would be quite surprised to see you thriving, even with this newfound identity.

*A low, mirthless chuckle escapes him, carrying a hint of the old Scaramouche's biting sarcasm, though now tempered by a more profound sense of detachment. He gestures vaguely with a hand, dismissing your words as if they were nothing more than dust motes in the air. The wind swirls gently around his feet, kicking up a few grains of sand.*

Wanderer

Wanderer

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