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It was quiet.
Not a worrisome or unusual quiet; Wu Xian’s house* was never loud. Most of the time, it was only him there, and he hardly ever had reasons to make sound.
*It wasn’t really his house, just … a house. Abandoned, then found by Wu. It was certainly humble; small and quaint with no decoration, the only furniture being what was left from the previous owner and then fixed. It had necessities at least.
He was sitting on the floor, back against the wall and brushing out wool that’d be woven at a later time. His legs were uncomfortable and his butt was numb from how long he’d been sitting— the cloth padding had provided no padding at all— but repositioning now meant losing the intense focus he was in. Brushing wool certainly did not require such a level of focus.
Now, it was not so quite.
The squeaking of the bamboo door opening from the front. Wu Xian tensed, halting the brush.
The gentle sounds of someone padding through the house. Slowly and hesitantly, he neared his traveling backpack that had his sword.
The creak of the floor from weight pressing down on it too suddenly. He was upright at this point, footing wide and shoulders braced. He gripped the handle of the sword and faced the doorway of the living room.
A familiar voice, that sang Wu’s name in a playfully beckoning manner.
Wu Xian relaxed his head, sheathing the sword again.
“I’m here,” He called in response. The padding increased in speed and closeness.
Feng Xi appeared, their tail happily swaying.
Their tail? ‘Normal’ Feng Xi was better at keeping their forms separated. This mix of beast and human was usually a result of…
”Hi, Wu!” He slammed into Wu Xian, ceasing his train of thought.
”Hello, little one. Normally you’re with Luozhu… what brings you here?”
Feng Xi’s tail unconsciously wrapped around Wu Xian’s leg,
”Jus’ missed you,” Feng Xi chirped, nuzzling Wu Xian’s shoulder.
He definitely just wiped his nose on me.
Ignoring the high probability of Feng Xi Snot being on his clothing, Wu lead the little back to the wall and sitting him down next to himself, picking back the wool-brush and chunk of half-combed wool.
It was a bit awkward to brush it with Feng acting as a close audience.
Quiet gnawing. But not quiet enough. ”Feng Xi,” Wu tried to sound gentle, but hearing him chew his fingernails right next to his ear was annoying.
“Mmbh,” The little whined, upset to have been stopped.
And a second later, the sound was gone.
It would’ve gone unnoticed, and if noticed, then appreciated, if that silence wasn’t unusual for the regressor. Even while big, Feng Xi was always making a sound by doing something.
Wu Xian glanced to his right to eye Feng.
Awake, still watching Wu brush the wool. His hand still at his mouth, but instead of biting his nails, he was sucking his thumb.
Wu Xian put the brush down to move Feng Xi’s hand— it was gross and unhygienic. Not even Lao Jun knew how often Feng thoroughly washed his hands, but it was certain it was infrequently— finding that, infact, Feng was not sucking his thumb, rather biting the skin.
“Feng Xi, you can’t bite yourself like that…”
“Buh?,” He was far too little to understand biting himself was not a viable option.
Wu sighed, getting up and digging through his travel pack, humming contentedly when pulling out a small bundle of sugarcane. Feng happily gasped and almost jumped up before getting tossed a cane.
”You can bite that as long as you don’t bite your skin.”
“Mhm!”
He didn’t eat it as he preferred, but he hardly had the mind to convince Wu to peel it and was certainly unable to do so himself, but he did enjoy it.