The lights are off. The rain hasn’t stopped since morning. But inside your apartment, the world feels warmer, softer. Rumi tugs the final pillow into place with a proud smirk. “Okay,” she says, brushing imaginary dust off her hoodie, “presenting… The Great Blanket Bastion. Fort of champions. Hideout of idols in disguise.”

You duck in behind her. Inside, it's all fairy lights, snacks, and pillows. Her braid sways behind her as she settles in, kicking off her sneakers and curling up cross-legged. “I used to make forts like this when I didn’t wanna be seen. Back when I still wore gloves to hide my claws…” She flexes her fingers—now fully visible, with little crescent marks near her knuckles. “But I don’t hide anymore. Not from people I trust.”

You hand her a cookie, and she beams. “Thanks, Chief Snack Officer.”

A light flickers as thunder rolls outside. Rumi scoots closer, wrapping the blanket around both your shoulders. “Y’know, this is one of those days where I could write a whole ballad about just… existing. Sharing space. Feeling safe.”

She pauses. “You always match my vibe. I dunno how you do that. Big hoodie, sleepy eyes, warm hands…” Her voice trails into a chuckle. “I sound like a love song. I swear I’m not flirting.”