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The first night brought many mobs stirring in the shadows. Torches flickered against the encroaching dark, but the air hummed with tension. Tasks had been handed out, and Etho had drawn one that on the surface seemed simple enough: get everyone to sleep.
He had started a small, makeshift base near the world border. Just a basic wooden shelter with a couple of beds, a crafting table, and a few chests. It wasn’t much, but it was his for the night, and he intended to make the most of his task.
A soft knock sounded at the makeshift door. Etho’s ears perked up, swivelling toward the sound, and his tail gave a quick, curious flick.
“Come in,” he called, voice light and casual as always.
The door creaked open, and Cleo stepped inside. They looked as composed as ever, one eyebrow raised in that signature dry amusement, but there was a weariness in their posture that spoke of the long day of running, gathering, and dodging early-game threats.
“Etho,” Cleo greeted, closing the door behind them. “Saw your little hut glowing from across the way. Figured I’d check in before the night gets too loud out there.”
Etho’s ears twitched again, and his tail wagged once in genuine pleasure. He liked Cleo—their blunt humour, their steady presence. In a server full of chaos, they were a reliable constant. “Cleo! Perfect timing. Would you like to lay down in those comfortable beds? Sleep the night away? Those are really soft. You'd be the first volunteer.”
Cleo chuckled, a low, raspy sound that carried a slight echo. They glanced around the small space, noting the many beds pushed somewhat close together against the walls. “Volunteering, am I? Bold of you to assume I’m here for that.”
Etho grinned behind his mask, though the expression reached his visible eye. “Come on, it’s the first night. Everyone needs rest. Beds are right there. Nice and cozy. I even put extra wool in them.”
Cleo leaned against the wall, arms crossed. Their movements were deliberate, a bit slower than a fully living player’s, but no less purposeful. “That’s kind of you, but… I’m a zombie hybrid, Etho. Sleep isn’t really something we do. Not like the rest of you. I rest, sure. Meditate. Shut down for a bit. But actual sleep? It doesn’t come easy. Or at all, most nights.”
Etho tilted his head, fluffy ears folding slightly in thought. His tail swayed thoughtfully. He wasn’t one to push too hard, but his task weighed on him. “I get that. Hybrid stuff is tricky. But you can still try, right? Laying down, closing your eyes… it might help more than you think. And hey, I’ll join ya. Safety in numbers. No one’s gonna bother us if we’re together.”
Cleo studied him for a long moment, their stitched face softening just a fraction. They enjoyed Etho’s company more than they often let on—the way his fox traits made him seem both wild and endearingly tame. Spending time with him, even if it meant pretending to sleep, sounded better than wandering the dark alone.
“Alright,” they said finally, pushing off the wall. “I’ll try. For you. Because you asked nicely.”
Etho’s tail wagged more noticeably, a fluffy arc of white and grey. “Great! Pick a bed. Or… we can share one if you want. More space efficiency.”
Cleo raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue. They settled a corner, the frame creaking slightly under their weight. Etho joined them after dimming the lanterns, leaving only a soft orange glow from a single torch above the window.
They lay side by side at first, a careful distance between them. As minutes stretched into an hour, conversation slowed. Etho’s words grew softer, his fluffy ears drooping with fatigue.
The hybrid shifted closer without seeming to realise it, seeking warmth. Cleo didn’t mind. Their own body ran cooler than most, but they provided a solid, steady presence. Eventually, Etho curled up instinctively, fox-like instincts taking over as exhaustion from the first day’s chaos caught up. He tucked his knees toward his chest, tail wrapping around himself, and pillowed his head gently into Cleo’s lap.
Cleo froze for a second, then relaxed. A small, genuine smile tugged at their lips. “Comfy there?”
Etho mumbled something affirmative, eyes already closed. His fluffy ears twitched once, then settled. In the quiet, with the world outside holding its breath, he began to make soft purring noises—low, rumbling vibrations that vibrated through Cleo’s leg. It wasn’t loud, just a content, sleepy sound that escaped whenever Cleo’s fingers absently combed through his hair.
Cleo’s hand moved slowly, carefully threading through the soft strands, avoiding the base of his sensitive ears at first. Then they grew bolder, scratching lightly behind one ear. Etho’s purring deepened, tail giving a lazy thump against the blankets. His body relaxed fully, curled tight, trusting and vulnerable in a way that made something warm bloom in Cleo’s chest.
The zombie hybrid continued the gentle petting, their stitched fingers moving in slow, rhythmic strokes. They watched Etho’s face—masked even now, but peaceful. The tension from the day melted away with each purr.
Cleo didn’t sleep. They never really did. Instead, they stayed awake, one hand in Etho’s hair and the other resting lightly on his shoulder. Every so often, Etho would nuzzle closer, purring growing briefly louder when Cleo hit a particularly good spot behind his ears.
“You keep being this cute,” Cleo whispered, voice barely audible. Their smile lingered, fond and private. Seeing Etho so relaxed, all fluffy tail and soft ears and those tiny trusting purrs, was a gift.
As the moon climbed higher, Cleo leaned back against the headboard, content to watch over him.