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Peter could hear Rumi hum from just behind him in that same analytical way that they often did whenever they were preparing to say something. He could feel them staring, their eyes practically boring holes into the back of his head as he pretended that it didn’t bother him. But he could feel sweat running down the back of his neck, his skin prickling in goosebumps the longer that Rumi’s eyes were trained on him.
But Rumi waited a few seconds before saying anything, saddling up next to Peter with a few long steps until they matched pace. Their coat billowed behind them like the ripples of a crystal clear lake and when Peter looked up at them, they smiled softly, ear flicking curiously.
“Peter,” Rumi finally said in that same smooth accent that Peter was beginning to familiarize himself with. Peter swallowed thickly, worried about what Rumi might have to say. Certainly, that tone couldn’t be good.
“Yeah, Rumi…” Peter croaked, bringing his hands in front of himself to fidget with his fingers, picking at the skin around his nails. He was sweating harder with Rumi staring at him openly, their eyes darting across Peter’s face with a calculating gaze. The swirling colors of their irises danced back and forth, rippling in different patterns and shades.
“You have something on your face,” Rumi explained simply, a small exhale spilling from their lips. Peter jolted with surprise, embarrassment blooming in his chest as he fumbled. He brought a hand up to his cheek to try and rub at the unknown substance.
But before he could do that, a lithe hand caught his wrist and moved to cup his chin. Rumi hummed again, eyes narrowing ever so slightly and Peter froze in place, his legs refusing to work. There was a sharp burning in the back of his mind which Peter did his best to quell, figuring that the flash of Exandroth’s control was obvious to Rumi who almost seemed to darken.
But their expression quickly shifted, they shook their head, ringlet curls bouncing and falling against the side of their face. Rumi tilted their head to the side, ear twitching slightly as they produced a pale white cloth from their pocket, lace curling around the edges. They re-folded it with one hand and brought it to Peter’s face, scrubbing against his cheek while Peter watched in almost abject horror.
Their expression had barely shifted to anything other than the same soft smile they usually wore or the calculating way their eyes shifted back and forth. But Rumi was gentle as they wiped at whatever patch of substance had gotten on Peter this time. Their nails pressed against Peter’s jaw as they held tight enough to keep Peter steady, but not tight enough that it hurt.
Once satisfied, Rumi tilted Peter’s face one way, and then the other, checking for any other splotches of dirt or dust that might have gotten on his cheeks. They clicked their tongue, lips parting slightly as they surveyed Peter.
“Rumi…?” Peter’s voice audibly shook, and his eyes became watery. Rumi seemed to notice this and smiled gently, sweeping their thumb underneath his eye.
“There you are, Peter,” Rumi exhaled through their nose, folding the cloth—now stained with a little bit of dirt—and tucked it into their pocket once more, patting Peter’s shoulders.
“Thank you,” Peter swallowed thickly, stepping back and away from Rumi. He ran his fingers through his hair, looking forward just to realize that Thanatos had not waited up for them at all and had continued walking in the direction that they were headed.
Rumi’s eyes trailed away from Peter, noticing the same thing as their eyebrows raised slightly. Peter gave a small sigh of relief now that the gaze had been turned away from him, but was unable to relish in it for too long before Rumi had grabbed his hand and began to pull him in the correct direction so as to catch up with Thanatos.
Their strides were long and steady with a hurried pace, but not one that seemed rushed. Peter just stumbled behind them, trying not to trip as he half-jogged to keep up. Thanatos didn’t react at all once they finally managed to catch up to him, his footfalls heavy against the forest floor.
Rumi clicked their tongue, striding up to Thanatos who had been remaining stationary a few feet away from the campfire in the middle of their camp. The glowing light of his eyes were dim, but not gone as they all got ready to settle for the day.
As Rumi approached, the light seemed to get brighter even if Thanatos didn’t move, a small bit of steam hissed from inside his body. Clicking their tongue again, almost disapprovingly, Rumi reached their hands up, using the back of their knuckles to brush a collection of dirt off of Thanatos’ shoulders. Particles flickered in the air, spilling to the ground at their feet.
That got his attention. Thanatos’ head creaked as he looked down at Rumi, a deep rumbling noise echoing from inside his chest as he prepared to speak. A small smile twitched at the corner of Rumi’s lips.
“What are you doing?” Thanatos asked, voice deep and intimidating as the lights of his eyes seemed to narrow. He straightened some, clearly trying to intimidate Rumi into backing off. But Rumi was steadfast and determined, their ear twitching in the direction of the campfire as Peter poked at it with a stick.
“Do not tell me that you intend to sleep covered in… dirt,” Rumi slid their tongue over their lips and grimaced slightly, looking Thanatos up and down and taking in his dirty, moss-covered appearance. “Even you of all people must have some sort of class.”
Thanatos didn’t say anything for a few seconds and Rumi could hear his inner workings whirring and creaking, “the dirt does not bother me.”
Now seemed like a good time for Rumi to back off and go back to doing whatever they were doing beforehand, perhaps they should go tend to Peter and make sure he was doing alright. It would be wise to leave so as to avoid getting one of their hands cut off by the slightly trigger-happy warforged. But Rumi decided to continue on anyway, flicking off a piece of moss like nothing had happened.
“It is good to keep up appearances,” Rumi sniffed, flicking their head back to move hair out of their eyes. It was almost a little unfortunate how they had to strain to reach the top of Thanatos’ head, sweeping off clumps of dirt and weeds from his helmet. Now, it wasn’t that Rumi was short, only that Thanatos was just much, much taller and Rumi had to look up to look him in the eyes.
“Your vanity will be your downfall,” Thanatos warned, the rumbling of his voice sending vibrations down Rumi’s arms as they held two hands against his shoulders. Rumi chose not to comment on his statement, merely humming quietly and continuing with their work.
It wasn’t a super meticulous process as Rumi was tired themself, but it was a surface-level tidying up that should get Thanatos looking good enough and just as intimidating as before. The moss did not help someone to look scary, and all the dirt and muck had been slightly bothering Rumi. So they had stepped forward, taking care of the issue that Thanatos did not seem willing to deal with himself.
All of them were tired, and it must have been clear to Thanatos that Rumi’s intentions were harmless at best, something idle for them to do while the last bits of tension drifted from the air. He remained static, an odd sort of warmth radiating from him as Rumi picked dirt off of the plates of his armor. Clumps of moss fell off easily in large chunks. Within a few minutes, the job had been completed enough for Rumi to step back with a satisfied clap.
They yawned, brushing dirt off of their palms and looking at Thanatos with a slightly raised eyebrow.
“Are you finished?” Thanatos asked with a hint of disdain that Rumi paid no mind to. They waved their hand in a dismissive gesture.
“I am,” they said, looking Thanatos up and down once more. He was still dirty, and Rumi didn’t think there was anything that they were able to do about that. Not with how stubborn Thanatos was. But he looked better than before, the deep glow from inside his chest seeming to die down some.
Thanatos hummed deeply but said nothing else, what almost seemed like an exhale shuddering through his mechanisms. Rumi sighed as well, smoothing a hand through their hair and moving to sit next to Peter in front of the fire to relax for the night.
Rumi found themself humming softly under their breath, a steady tune carrying through the air as Sunny reclined in their lap. Their ear twitched in Peter’s direction as the man shifted in his sleep, curling up on his side and letting out a breathy exhale.
Thanatos was silent, the lights in his eyes dimmed to practically nothing as Rumi looked over at him. The fire in the center of their makeshift camp flickered and wisped in the air, sparks curling and dancing around each other in their dying waltz. Rumi’s eyes lingered on the flames for a few seconds longer than necessary before they turned back to Sunny.
The fox snuffled lightly, wet snout pressing into the crook of Rumi’s arm. They pulled a sleek comb through the soft white fur, trying their hardest not to snag on any tangles as they smoothed Sunny’s fur back.
The repetitive action was calming to Rumi and Sunny was more than happy to allow his fur to be combed through and tended to. His ears twitched and Rumi lightly scratched at his chin with their other hand.
For a small fox, Sunny seemed to enjoy getting himself much dirtier than one would think. Rumi just sighed lightly and sat down with him in their lap to get rid of the dirt and bugs from his fur. This ritual had gone on for years, one that Rumi didn’t seem too fond to break this far into it.
Sunny knew the drill, he would curl up patiently and sit still for Rumi to tend to him and fuss over tangles and thistles,
Rumi tsked softly, “Sunny, how do you always manage to get so dirty?” Rumi asked and Sunny just gave a tired squeak, a large yawn causing his tongue to curl. Rumi just shook their head fondly and gave a breathy laugh, letting their hand rest over Sunny’s back.
A small pile of fur had gathered on the ground next to them from Sunny’s shedding coat. His tails flicked back and forth and he yawned again, seeming satisfied with Rumi’s job and curling up in a tighter ball. He tucked his head against his paws, elbows digging into Rumi’s thighs.
Rumi placed their comb back into their pouch, doing their best not to disturb Sunny. They petted his head, scratching behind his ears and running their fingers through the milky white fur, a small glow coming from the tiny fox.
The clean, smooth fur would last maybe a couple days, and then Sunny would get all messy again and Rumi would brush his fur gently and patiently. They enjoyed the time spent, making sure their companion was comfortable and alright and relished in the quiet of his watch.
Peter shifted again, a small grunt of what almost seemed like pain spilling from his lips as he rolled over onto his other side. But after a few seconds, he settled once more.
Lizard squeezed out from where he had been tucked against Peter’s body, tongue flicking out between pale lips. His eyes blinked slowly as he seemed to stare at Rumi for a few seconds.
“Ah,” Rumi chuckled quietly, reaching a hand out towards Lizard who made a small lizard-like noise and hopped off of Peter’s shoulder, scuttling over to Rumi. Lizard allowed himself to be picked up gently and placed in Rumi’s lap next to Sunny, who only gave a small yip of protest about having to share Rumi’s attention.
“You appear to be a little dirty as well,” Rumi whispered, their smooth voice carrying through the air. Lizard licked his eye and Rumi blinked, a little surprised at that action. They hummed curiously, taking out a cloth from their pocket.
Lizard had no fur and probably would not benefit from the same type of care that Sunny did. So Rumi figured they might be able to wipe him down a bit. Rumi placed the cloth on Lizard’s back and he didn’t seem to react negatively, allowing Rumi to handle and touch him.
Rumi wiped off small bits of dirt and grime, smoothing the cloth down his back and belly. Lizard allowed all this to happen but Rumi was unsure if he was enjoying it or not. They figured they could ask Peter about it when they were getting ready to resume their adventure later. But for now, Rumi just made sure the dirt was wiped off, tucking the cloth back into their pocket once finished.
Lizard made another normal (probably) noise, hopping off of Rumi’s lap to crawl back to Peter who had shifted again. This time Peter rolled onto his back, arms clasped over his stomach.
“There you are, Sunny, no need to be jealous,” Rumi placed their hand on Sunny’s back, “Lizard has returned to Peter.”
Sunny just yawned and licked his lips, snuggling further against Rumi. Rumi smiled and chuckled softly, leaning back some and using their other arm to keep balanced, staring at the flaming campfire in front of them. With a small sigh, they went back to focusing on their watch, a relaxed feeling spreading over the camp.
Peter gave a startled cry, his foot catching on a hole in the ground as he pitched forward. He threw his hands out in front of himself, barely managing to catch his fall before he face-planted completely in the dirt, skidding a few inches in that direction.
His chin slammed against the ground and he winced, palms and elbows throbbing from impact.
“Ugh…” he groaned, not bothering to pick himself up from the ground for a few seconds, sitting there and wallowing in the dirt for a while. He had fully intended to wait until the pain that radiated from several places on his body faded and would let him stand comfortably. But he didn’t even get that chance before a soft hand grabbed him by the arm and began pulling him to his feet.
“Up you go,” Rumi encouraged, their smooth accent lilting at the end as they kept one hand wrapped around Peter’s arm, “now you have to be more careful with where you’re walking.”
Peter looked away, feeling Rumi’s stare all too well as they examined him up and down. He didn’t want to make eye contact and make it worse, goosebumps prickling against his skin.
“Sorry…” Peter whispered shakily, making an attempt to brush himself off, his palms still stinging from where he must have scraped them on some rocks or something. Rumi tsked and clicked their tongue, shaking their head faintly.
“No worries,” Rumi said and when coming from them, Peter felt that he could believe that statement. Rumi slid their hands over Rumi’s shoulders, smoothing back his collar and readjusting it so that it was laying properly. They worked swiftly, brushing dirt off the front of his shirt and refolding the rumpled collar, doing their best to smooth out the wrinkles.
“You must pick yourself up when you fall, no need to linger,” Rumi continued, gaze intense as their swirling irises locked onto Peter’s. Peter shivered, an uncomfortable feeling spreading from the pit of his stomach at being watched. But he told himself that it was just Rumi, there was nothing to worry about. Their gaze was okay. But his body didn’t feel like it.
Rumi hummed softly, a small exhale spilling from their lips as they reached up with one hand, placing their hand on Peter’s head and smoothing down his hair from where it had been sticking up. They ran their fingers through the messy brown strands, patting them to lay flat and fussing over Peter’s appearance. It was almost a little smothering.
But Peter didn’t say anything about it, he didn’t think he would have even if it had actually bothered him. Which it didn’t. Rumi was nice and gentle and no one really had cared about if Peter had tripped over his own feet in a while.
Rumi rubbed at a smudge of dirt on Peter’s chin, wiping it off and making sure there were no serious injuries on his body.
A good minute of their picking and adjusting passed before Rumi finally seemed satisfied. They clapped Peter on the shoulders with both hands, staring down at him with slightly narrowed eyes. Their hair rustled in the wind, iridescent curls almost seeming to reflect in what little light there was around them.
“Careful now,” Rumi said, their lips twitching into a small smile, “we must continue on.”
“Right… of course… I won’t trip again,” Peter insisted, rubbing the back of his neck and fidgeting slightly from where he stood. He rocked back and forth on his heels, waiting until Rumi let go of his shoulders before going back to walking down the long path they had been walking on.
Rumi strode next to him, their long steps seeming to slow as if to keep pace with Peter who was trying to catch up with Thanatos who—as usual—remained quite a few feet ahead. No more words were spoken between the two, but there was something about Rumi’s presence that seemed to swell. Peter rubbed his arm, swallowing thickly but ignored the feeling.
He could feel Rumi’s touch lingering on his skin from where they had been brushing him off and flicking the dirt off of his collar. But Peter didn’t think that it lingered in a bad way, it was almost reassuring.
Peter blinked his eyes open, squinting slightly as he reached for where he had set his glasses. He rubbed his face, pushing them to rest on his nose as he wondered what had woken him up. Well… he hadn’t really been asleep in the first place, but he had almost fallen asleep.
The fire flickered in the center of their camp, a yellow light spreading in a small circle over their sprawled-out items. Thanatos sat a few feet away, the glow of his eyes bright as he turned to regard Peter with a piercing stare. The gears and mechanisms inside him whirred with every movement, the sound seeming to heighten now that there were no other sounds to muffle it.
Thanatos said nothing to Peter as he noticed the other man waking up, he just returned to staring out at the distance, one hand readied on his sword in case something might pop out.
Peter sniffed, his chest tightening as he huffed small pants. It seemed like everything was okay around their camp. So he settled back onto the ground, laying on his stomach and trying to find another comfortable position. It was hard falling asleep around other people when it somehow always felt like there was something looking at him, or that there might be something there watching. Peter found that he never had gotten used to it.
Before taking his glasses off, Peter turned his head to the side to glance over at Rumi who was lying next to him. They were laying on their side, lips slightly parted as each breath puffed silently. One arm was tucked underneath their head as a pillow as Sunny curled up in a ball near their chest, tails flicking idly every once in a while.
Rumi’s expression was calm as it usually was, their ear twitching slightly. They weren’t completely asleep it seemed, because once Peter turned to look at them, they blinked a few times, squinting over at Peter. But like Thanatos, they said nothing, a certain type of exhaustion weighing them down and causing a silence to spread through their camp.
But Peter could feel them looking at him. He knew that they weren’t fully asleep because their gaze caused Peter to shiver, goosebumps prickling against his skin. They let out a deeper sigh, eyelids fluttering closed for a second before reopening them.
The light from the campfire reflected against their iridescent horns, causing small little splotches of light to refract against the ground, shifting whenever Rumi moved. Peter examined their face, realizing that he never really looked at Rumi too closely since Peter didn’t like looking at people very much.
But in the light of the campfire, Rumi’s features seemed to be highlighted by the soft light, the curve of their nose, their cheekbones, their lips.
Peter noticed an odd bit of dirt that clung to Rumi’s skin, a dirtiness that Peter had never seen before on the other man.
“Rumi…” Peter whispered, voice cracking from lack of use. Rumi’s eyes widened slightly as they tried to focus a bit closer on Peter now that he had called their attention. Instead of responding though, they just hummed quietly, another sigh spilling from their lips to show that they were listening.
“You uh…” Peter swallowed thickly, “you have dirt on your face.”
Rumi’s expression scrunched up slightly and they brought their freehand up to press against their face, a noise of confusion reverberating from their chest. As Rumi made an attempt to wipe away the dirt, Peter frowned slightly.
“Here,” Peter pulled his sleeve over his palm, reaching out to Rumi and using his shirt to wipe at their cheek. Rumi froze, swirling eyes widening ever so slightly as Peter scrubbed with a little more roughness than he meant to show. But Rumi didn’t tell him to stop or jerk away like Peter had expected they would do. They just laid there with an almost shocked expression.
“There you go,” Peter yawned and rubbed his eyes, letting his sleeve fall back over his wrist as he dropped his hand away from Rumi’s face. Rumi’s expression showed their exhaustion, but at the same time, there was something else that Peter had no idea how to discern.
“Thank you, Peter,” Rumi whispered, barely audible over the crackling of the fire. Peter smiled, noticing the way that Rumi seemed to smile back, eyes fluttering closed.
“Of course, Rumi,” Peter shuffled away from Rumi, leaving enough space in between the two of them. Rumi let out a slow sigh, their shoulders shuddering with the weight of their breath.
Peter figured that Rumi didn’t fall asleep for a while longer since he could still feel Rumi’s gaze on him as he drifted off into a fitful sleep.