Don't we all! (some previous kid rumi thoughts here!)
There are two things that immediately come to mind when I think about a rumi who grew up loved and protected and in such a wide, open space.
the first being kid rumi who knows about demon hunters. of course she does: every night celine tells her a story before bed, and they're almost always about previous hunters.
(except the one about a hunter beating demons by eating her vegetables. rumi doesn't quiet think that one is true.)
(... probably. better to not chance it, actually. even if they are gross.)
but what this means is rumi's imaginary friends tend to be battle-ready, badass ladies. ones who are strong and smart and fast and kind. and kid rumi narrates their epic battles as she pretend fights, her stuffed animals and dolls all dressed in beautiful and cool outfits, holding sticks and wooden shields colored a bright blue-purple-pink to match the 'honeymoon'
that's usually where celine ends up finding rumi on those days she's allowed to run around and play outside: at the base of their spirit tree, surrounded by her stuffies and fellow hunters.
(it's a sweet thing and it breaks celine's heart every time: because rumi is kind and brave and fiercely protective --- and being a hunter asks you to give up so much of yourself. it will take and take and take. and it has already stolen too much from rumi)
(she should protect rumi better, celine knows. hide her from the world as long as she can so she can keep that spark alive. before the world takes everything from this little girl)
the second, though, is something kid rumi struggles to understand: pain. but not in the way you'd first think
there's this (imo) wholesome and sweetly empathic way of thinking in small children where they believe you're able to feel their bruises; that, if you were to touch those spots that hurt, then you'll hurt too.
and so celine gets worries when rumi suddenly turns away from her when she scrapes her knees, when she plays a little too rough and her palms gets splinters and cuts. she refuses to let celine clean her wounds or even put bandaids on them anymore. even after she caught rumi surrounded by empty boxes and open wrappers, covered from head to toe in bandages.
('rumi? are you hurt? here --- let me help you.' 'no! imma big kid, celine. i got it')
even if rumi bangs her shin on one of her staffs, she simply puts on the biggest, saddest brave face and walks it off.
but it's when rumi starts to seriously hide her patterns, even from celine, that the woman gets concerned.
'i don't want you to touch them, celine.'
(and the fear the heartbreak the guilt is hot as it pierces through celine.)
'why not?'
'... i don't want you to get hurt... i don't want you to catch 'em'
and it takes a while before rumi is willing to accept the fact she won't hurt celine if celine touches her bruises or helps her up after she falls down, or if her hands brush down rumi's arms and over her patterns --- if she holds her, cradled against her chest like she used to do when rumi was small so very small.
(it takes a while, too, for celine to fall asleep that night, if she manages to at all. she lets rumi have a sleepover in her room with her, and for hours she just watches her sleep. knowing that she's okay. that she's safe.)
(knowing that maybe celine is taking something from her too.)
