Chapter Text
Rook unceremonisouly opened the flaps to the necromancer's tent.
"Emmrich we're leaving so-"
She stopped mid sentence, surprised to find her most recently recruited companion standing before a foldable table full of cosmetic products, holding a mirror with one hand and his cheeks lathered with shaving cream.
Emmrich turned to her, holding up his shaving brush.
"Ah Rook, apologies. It seems I am getting a bit tardy"
Rook froze. Oddly she felt like she just interrupted an intimate moment. Emmrich was dressed in his usual flanel pants and a cream undershirt. His crisp fancy white shirt and his green vest were neatly folded on a wooden stool. She never saw him in such a state of undress and given how many layers he usually wore, she almost felt as if she was intruding on him completely naked.
"I usually manage to be done before you wake. It seems I miscalculated today. I'll be quick, I promise" Emmrich told her before getting back to his previous occupation.
It never occurred to her that he shaved every day. Which was really silly of her obviously; he didn’t magically end up looking dashing and fresh when running around in the wilderness. Despite how he seemed to make everything look simple, it took work, even for him. His camp habits clashed with those of companions like Harding and Taash but Lucanis and Neve liked a bit more comfort in camp.
Rivain’s sun was up early and blazing hot, which explained why Rook didn’t sleep in today. But oh was she grateful it allowed her to see Emmrich grooming.
Despite her urge to stayed focused on Emmrich, Rook’s attention was suddenly drawn to a moving form to her side. She soon spotted Manfred running towards Emmrich with a razor, like a disaster waiting to happen.
"Manfred shaves you?" She asked alarmingly.
"Of course not. Manfred is my assistant not my manservant" Emmrich replied, more amused than offended. He wipped his hands clean on a towel and took the razor from Manfred with a small "thank you" and an approving nod of his head.
"Right. I guess I wouldn't let him near my throat with those sharp blades either..." Rook commented, but her humour didn't seem to perturb Emmrich.
"Oh but you'd be surprised with how dexterous he is ! And everyday he makes progress. He's capable of serving tea without spilling a drop now!" Emmrich praised, visibly proud of his spirit protégé.
The necromancer turned to the mirror, which Manfred now held, and started angling the blade towards his cheek the second he stopped talking. Rook watched mesmerized as he shaved a first stripe and elegantly rinced the blade before he continued. Talking about being dexterous… The precisison of his movements, the way his long and elegant fingers, yet to be adorned with his numerous rings, handled the dangerous object near his adam apple, made something stirr inside her. Something warm and improper.
She watced the lean muscles of his arms flex, seeing them free of a shirt for the first time. Her eyes traveled down irresistibly, and below the upper part of his undershirt, she could spot the birth of a small patch of dark chest hair.
"Did you need something else Rook?" Emmrich's voice startled her. His tone was lower than she ever heard it and it made her stomach flip. She looked up to find his brown gaze on her, and it felt oddly intense in the dim light of the tent.
"No. We'll leave when you're done" She hastily declared, internally cursing herself for stuttering.
Emmrich smiled kindly, but there was a mysterious glint in his usually soft eyes. "I won't be long, I promise. I've got practice"
The way he said those last words shouldn't make her feel how she felt.
Once out of the tent, Rook flopped beside the dying campfire with an annoyed groan, burrying her face in her hands in embarassement. Shit. She knew him for a few days and already she was crushing on Professor Volkarin so hard it made her act stupid.
She told herself she would get a grip, but later that day, when she walked alongside him, enamored with the way he talked about studying the flora of Rivain, she caught wafts of the scent of his after shave, a citrussy but rich smell that she instantly wanted to breathe more of. She lost track of what he was saying as she though about caressing the smooth skin of his perfectly shaven cheeks, and inhale his cologne just under his ear where it would mix with a scent that was only his and that she longed to discover. She wondered how his well kept mustache would feel scratching her skin an-
He asked her a question then, and she had no clue what he just said so she only smiled like an idiot. He forgave her with a small chuckle, blaming it on the scorching sun, and repeated his inquiry like the kind gentleman he was.
Her heart fluttered in her chest. Damn she had it bad.