Chapter Text
Scara didn’t realize something was wrong until Nahida was weirdly quiet at breakfast. Normally one of them had something to say; either she wouldn’t shut up about whatever was going on in the world because the poor goddess had a direct line to all of Teyvat via Irminsul, or he had some interesting tidbit from classes lately. Inevitably, he caved first, speaking up as he got himself some water.
“The hell is wrong with you today? You’re awfully quiet.”
“Well, um. I was trying to figure out how to ask you if you didn’t remember Belial fronting, or if you just didn’t want to talk about it, without being rude.”
The words hit maybe a little harder than they should have. But how the hell else was he supposed to feel, being asked if he remembered something as if it had happened, but having no recollection of it? He was just getting up to go to class and instead this weird bomb was being dropped on him. He shook his head, shaking himself from his thoughts, before turning to her. “Who the fuck is Belial? What the fuck do you- How long?”
“Just two days. It stayed away from me yesterday, though; he was rather upset about being stuck here for however long your brain so pleased. He said even he doesn’t know how to force a switch.”
Scara was sure the color had to have drained from him. Two days? Two full days. He promptly clawed at his memory, trying to find anything. Upon searching he did find bits and pieces; he vaguely remembered himself commentating on history class. The memory made him feel sick, because it was from the wrong point of view; someone else’s point of view, although it was his body so shouldn’t it have been his point of view? But somehow, it wasn’t. ‘He’ in the memory wasn’t him, was someone else with too much genuine thirst for blood to have ever been him. He remembered, from the same wrong point of view, drawing something and getting frustrated with it. Sethos asking him too many questions. Trying to use Anemo and struggling with it, which of course he had struggled with it why was he treating it like something that needed to submit to him, you’d get nowhere like that-
“Scara?” Nahida’s voice was gentle, cautious. She was worried about him. He took a deep breath. “Okay. Who the fuck is he?”
“Well, I don’t know everything,” She ignored the loud bark of laughter that got in response, because she literally did, “but he seems to be the one ‘in charge’ before you, so to speak. He’s very, um… confrontational. It was likely the Harbinger who attempted to take my gnosis, and the one I can hear.”
Scara raised a brow as he sat down, pulling his plate to his part of the table. “The one you can hear?”
“I can’t hear your thoughts right now. I thought that it was when you thought loudly, but- when Beilal fronted, I could hear all of its thoughts. I think it’s not so much that your angrier thoughts are louder, but that it is louder and it’s more prone to speaking angrily”
“So… okay.” Scara pinched the bridge of his nose, “So I don’t have classes today. It’s the weekend.”
“It is, yes, the weekend.”
“I have to hunt down Layla.”
Nahida laughed. He shot her a glare. She only shrugged; she was right to laugh. The image of him going to sweet, soft Layla for help was definitely funny. Surely students would talk. He made a face, which only made Nahida stifle louder laughter, because apparently he’d just come to the conclusion she already had.
“Oh fuck off!”
“I’m not laughing at the fact that people will start rumors, I promise! I’m laughing because it’s silly, because the reality is so much more complicated than what they’ll assume. They’ll start wondering if you’re finally interested in someone, when really you’re going to her because no one else will understand what it’s like to find out there’s someone else in your brain with you. It’s just… funny, how clueless they are.”
“I’m starting to remember that you’re the goddess of knowledge, and sometimes that translates to seeing everyone as ants.” Scara muttered, much to Nahida’s offense.
“I don’t see them as ants! I just- it’s just a little funny how narrow-minded mortals can be sometimes. That’s all. It’s not a bad thing, it keeps them focused I suppose. I just means they make assumptions that are very, very wrong. I do think you should find Layla, or- whoever is functioning under that name at the moment. They’ll be able to help, I reckon.”
He hadn’t thought about it, but it was true, wasn’t it? Chances were it wouldn’t be Layla he was speaking with. Just someone who knew better than to correct anyone when they were called that name. He frowned; it made him a little sad. He wasn’t a very empathetic person, he actively struggled with it in fact, but fuck he knew how important names were. He only had ever tolerated the whole ‘Hat Guy’ thing because it was good for days he didn’t… like his name.
Well, that was probably a sign, looking back on it.
“Yeah, uh, I think I’m gonna talk to her. Or them. Whoever the fuck I’m gonna end up talking to.” He muttered, taking the last bite of his food. He should probably eat more but he was starting to feel a little too unsettled, and technically his body didn’t need it to survive so what was the point? It wouldn’t turn to discomfort for quite a while. He stood, stretching.
“You should eat more.” Nahida said as she crossed her arms.
“I’ll eat later, I have someone equally crazy to go track down.”
“You’re not crazy!” She called after him, which only earned a dismissive sound in response.
He was really lucky. Layla was home, and at least awake enough that she opened the door. He cringed upon seeing her hair in a bun that bordered on ‘mad genius’ levels of disastrous, and the way her eyes looked a little less open than normal. Her usual clothes were replaced with something simpler, just white pants and a wine-red shirt that hung loosely on her. She definitely seemed.. well. She always looked tired, that was her whole thing, but he’d never seen her like this. She at least made herself presentable when she left the house; was this how she always looked on the weekends?
She stared at him like she hadn’t been prepared to be perceived in the slightest, and for once he felt awkward. Unlike usually, this wasn’t really a her problem. This was definitely his fault. “Uh… I wanted to talk. I brought your book. Journal. Thing.”
It took a rather long moment for her to process, and then she gasped. “Oh shit! Y- yes, come in, um- give me two seconds. Do you want coffee?”
He walked in slowly as she rushed from the door, moving about her house to shove some things out of sight. The place was messy but nothing he could judge when his desk had more books on it than empty space. It looks mostly like things from studying, and plates and whatnot that hadn’t been cleaned up yet. “If you’re making it. Which, uh, it looks like you are. Is this a bad time? I can come back later, you look fucking exhausted.”
“Oh, no, I’m always exhausted- which sounds really sad but I promise it’s just how insomnia is.” she gestured dismissively, clearing off the table near the kitchenette. The kitchen was right at the door, with a nice little table beside it. The living room was off to one side, with presumably the bedroom and maybe bathroom off to the other. He wasn’t about to go snooping. She motioned for him to sit down and he did, setting both books he’d brought on the table as she turned to the kitchen.
“I’m not gonna pity you, fuck that. If this is your usual weekend I won’t feel bad for showing up.”
“Mhm. So, you brought- two books, not one.”
“I started one of my own.”
That got an eyebrow raise. “You… did?”
“There were some, uh, interesting finds.”
She abandoned the coffee for a moment to turn around. “Oh tell me everything please. I know we thought you were an egg but I didn’t think you’d crack that fast. My money was on at least a month before you even spoke to us.”
Scara frowned. “Crack, really? C’mon.”
“Sorry. So- interesting finds?”
“… You may have been right.”
“I’m not going to say I told you so because that would be cruel, but know that I’m actively restraining myself.” She hopped up to sit on the counter, biting absently at her finger.
“What happened?”
“Well- hold on. I’m not just gonna tell you everything without asking a couple questions first. For one, who are you? You’re not the same person who brought the journal to me, there’s no way. You're wearing red, for one, and you're not acting like normal.”
“Aw, that’s sweet of you to think I can’t mask that well.” He bristled at the condescending tone, and the other simply raised their hands in surrender. “I’m fucking with you, you’re right. But you shouldn’t just assume; it could've been me, I'm an okay actor. We know how to mask pretty hard. I’m Ruya, they/them but I'm not super picky. My whole job is being way more chill than half the people here, so do with that what you will.”
“You have… jobs?” He blinked. They shrugged, tilting their head all sorts of ways, unsure.
“Only sort of. Some of us. Some of us are like ‘my job is studying and I’m going to make it everyone’s problem’ and others are just. Here. That’s their job, they’re here. Actually a lot of us are like that. I just happen to have a job, because someone needed to get us to take breaks. Now tell me what happened!”
Scara hesitated, chewing on his lip and leaning against the table. Where did he even start? ‘Hey so I had a panic attack in front of Sethos and turns out I think I’m not real?’
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, rubbing his temples. He opened his mouth to speak, but Ruya softened and spoke first. “You don’t have to. I know it’s probably a lot. It was a lot for us too. If you need me to give like… generic advice, and whatnot, without knowing any of the details? I can do that.”
“No, no. Just- a lot happened. How did Layla take it?”
“Huh?”
“How did- when you guys started figuring things out. I mean, she’d been used to living her life on her own, and then suddenly there’s other people, right? That’s fucking complicated.”
“Oh, uh. I mean…” Ruya rubbed the back of their neck, almost sheepish, and laughed. “If I’m honest she was pretty burned out. We’re not really built for forcing someone to spend a lot of time in front compared to anyone else, but before we realized we were sort of subconsciously making her spend the most time fronting, I think. At least, that’s our theory. So she sort of dipped for a solid year and a half right off the bat to recover from all that, and that was best for her. Best for everyone involved, if I'm honest.”
Scara was sure it was obvious he thought that was insane, staring at Ruya with an incredulous look on his face, but it was difficult to really hide it. “She just… left?”
“We floundered a bit, obviously. Most of us had a lot of guilt around it, felt like we were taking over her life, but um.. it really was for the best. It gave us space to exist without this whole looming feeling of our life not really being our own, because we somehow owed it to Layla to give her the most time out. She made it very clear she didn’t want all the time to herself.”
Scara frowned down at the table as Ruya went back to making coffee, setting water to boil. That answer didn’t help him at all. He knew the question he was asking was probably rude even if he couldn’t figure out quite why, but he asked it anyway.
“Is she the, uh- fuck. What I read in your journal never really talked about an original?”
“We don’t really find that whole idea useful. I mean you might! Good for you if you do. But it just stresses us out. People ask who the original is, and what they’re asking is who the real one is.”
Scara didn’t respond right away. They had a point; that was sort of what he was asking. He was asking it because it applied to him though. He shifted in his seat, crossing one leg over the other and glaring at the books in front of him. If he wasn’t the real one, who was? He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.
“But isn’t there one?” He settled on, after longer than he intended.
“We’re all the real ones. I mean, you wouldn’t look anyone in the eye and call them not real, would you? That’s rude.”
“I would if they were a ghost or something.”
“Th- well, okay, but I’m not a ghost. Also, ghosts are still real. They’re just dead.” Ruya rolled their eyes, crossing their arms.
“Okay, bad example.” Scara admitted, frowning. “But- still. I’m serious. How do you know you’re not just something Layla is imagining herself as?”
“Why does it matter to you what’s real? You’re all there and experiencing it as real, that’s all that matters. Even if you weren’t ‘objectively real’, even if you were just one dude trying to make sense of himself, who the fuck cares? What matters is that you make more sense to yourself, or selves, like that.”
“Because- Damnit it matters.” He huffed, sitting up a bit straighter and fighting the urge to grit his teeth. “I don’t want to be just some figment of someone else’s imagination. I’m not fucking around and just asking these questions for no reason, it matters to me.”
Ruya looked a little confused, but suddenly seemed a little more hesitant. Careful. Treating the situation like it was fragile, him like he was fragile. He didn’t like it. “Well… I don’t think there is an objective way to tell. Even the people who do diagnosis and stuff can’t agree. A lot of people will just tell you it’s one broken person, but- that’s not true for everyone, or even the majority. A lot of people agree that it’s a really gross thing to enforce on everyone like us.”
“So the people who know what they’re talking about say it’s not real.” It came out snappier than he meant.
“We are the people who know what we’re talking about, it’s going on in our brains. Look- I know it’s scary, but this is your head, what you say goes. You have the authority. No one can say if if you’re real or not, that’s for you to decide.”
His hackles raised and he scoffed. “No one has to say it, that’s the fucking problem. It’s not something they ever say, they just bake it into every interaction with you until you learn the lesson anyway. I don’t care what people think, I care what is. I want to know if it’s true or not.”
There was a pause as Ruya grabbed mugs from the cupboard, sighing. “Well there’s not- like I said, there’s not really a way to tell what ‘is’ objectively. But I think that ultimately, you’re talking to me. You’re speaking, living, thinking, experiencing life; that’s all you need. You’re real.”
He frowned, almost deflating as he shook his head. “It can’t be that simple.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s- I don’t owe you an explanation.”
“You’re right, you don’t.” They shrugged, setting the mugs on the counter and squinting almost suspiciously at the coffee. “I’m just nosy. Do you- you don’t have to answer this- do you… not feel like you’re the original, the 'real one?' Is that what this is about?”
They glanced back at him, which he was grateful for. He couldn’t bring himself to say it out loud. He’d already said it to Sethos. Instead, he just nodded, running his hands over his face. They made a vague sound of confirmation, pouring the coffee into the mugs and quietly setting on in front of him. They set their elbows on the table, leaning forward as they held their coffee. After a moment of staring off into space, they spoke. “There’s nothing I can say that can fix that. That’s not an easy thing. Personally, we aren’t out. No one knows anyone but Layla, and even Layla doesn’t really feel known because everyone knows this idea of her that encompasses what the whole system can mimic but it’s not the reality of her on her own. It’s kind of lonely. Some days it’s really easy to just feel unreal, not because I don’t think I’m real, but because no one sees me. There’s no one to witness my existence, to know what I look like and sound like when they’re not seeing me through the filter of the body I’m in, or to even just know like- what I like, and what I don’t. At least, no one who doesn’t also live in our brain.”
They chuckled, but it sounded bitter. Scara couldn’t blame them. He started to speak, but they held a finger up.
“Hold on. I’m not done. Because yeah, it fucking sucks. Especially not being seen as the real one. But- if no one’s gonna give you that, then you have to at least give it to yourself. You owe that to yourself, don’t you? If you have the sentience to stress about whether or not your real, then to me that settles it.”
“I- that helps, I think. I don’t know. I’m just fucking sick of this. It’s like I keep finding new ways to ‘not be real.’”
“For what it’s worth, now at least one person out there thinks your real. Or- well, assuming you think I’m real enough to count. If not then we might have a little bit of a problem, because then this conversation is between two fake people.”
That, at least, got a quiet huff of laughter as he sipped at his coffee, shaking his head. “No, you’re real. I’ve met Layla and she’s not near as snarky. Half the time I feel like I’m gonna snap her in half if I say the wrong thi- wait hold on. Have I met Layla?”
“Now you’re asking the real questions!” They laughed, clearly pleased with the way he suddenly stumbled over himself as if his train of thought had just been clotheslined. “Don’t worry. Yes, you have. She’s the one who brought you our book. Which, speaking of; has it helped?”
“A little. I haven’t looked at it much since the first couple of times, it’s overwhelming. I made my own.”
They leaned forward, and he raised a brow at the way they moved their shoulders like a cat wiggled to calibrate before pouncing. “So? Who else should I be aware of, then? Gimme details.”
He was unimpressed. “You sound like you’re asking who my fucking crush is.”
“Am I?”
“What? No.”
“It happens. We have a few relationships in-system. More common than you think.”
“Y- I don’t want to think about that, no. Shut the fuck up.” He rolled is eyes, leaning back in his seat. “Its name is Belial. He kind of fucking hates me, and everything actually. He was the last one in charge, he caused a lot of problems, I think he’s angry with me for building a life that has nothing to do with him.”
“I mean, I’d be pissed too if the others… what, moved to a new nation and started taking classes at a strange school I’d never been to? While I was dormant? There’d be blood.”
“Can you even-?”
“Nah, our system doesn’t work like that. So did you come here because you wanna know how to handle him, or just chat about it all, or…?”
“I- mostly I was just freaked out because I don’t remember the past couple days.”
Ruya sat up a bit straighter, eyes widening suddenly. “Wait, seriously?”
“Wh- don’t you have that?!”
“No. No, not really. Our memory is shit, don’t get me wrong, but it’s just sort of bad in general. Not like actual greyouts or blackouts.” They pulled their journal from on top of his own, opening it and flipping through it. “I can’t… actually help with that, honestly. I have no idea what amnesia barriers are like.”
Scara groaned loudly, resting his head face-first on the table. “That’s the whole fucking reason I came here.”
“Sorry.” Ruya offered only a sheepish smile, looking up from there book. “How much do you know about you guys so far, then, beyond Belial fronting?”
“Uh… he exists, and he’s a god apparently, he doesn't like blue.”
Silence. Ruya realized a moment too late that he wasn’t going to continue the list, coughing. “I mean that’s a start! You can start working together now that you know he’s there.”
“I don’t know how well that’s gonna go over.”
Ruya laughed. “So, sounds to me like lesson one should be conflict management.”