“I think so, yes.” the halfling answered, following the other’s lead in an effortless synchronization. “One asks me questions, another puts me to test. They defend each other like family. I suppose that is common.” Brendan’s accent was heavy in his solitude, the lone alteraci content to indulge a tongue often concealed. A wide step, and a pull close.
“An’? Tha’ be somethin’ mutual?”
“You think me soft so quick?” Brendan snorted, resolving into a short chuckle. “I know nothing beyond names, no? You have watched me dismiss.”
“Aye, I ‘ave. But they ain’t the usuals. Freaks o’their own, ain’t they?”
The medium’s foot landed a purposeful kick against the other’s ankle, forcing his rhythm back to that of four steps instead of three. “Maybe. Freaks live just the same, and they die the same too. Some of them know about the line we walk, it could be help.”
“Ah, thas’ it.” droned the deeper timbre, a hum of disapproval sounding soon after. “Y’ain’t e’er question ‘em before. Yer f’gettin’, Brenny.”
“Then quit actin’ like this ain’t what it gotta be. They ain’t no help. What they gon’ do when they decide they dun’ like me?”
“I do not like you. If I cannot rid of you, I do not see how they can.” Brendan kicked his foot forward in mimic, assaulting the other’s shin for a second reminder.
“Quit kickin’ the shit outta me, y’know how to waltz. Three steps, it ain’t four.”
“A box step has four. You turn with waltz, box step come back to first spot. It is the same every time.”
The dance’s leader grinned wide, his lips ladled with a content malice. “Knew I could count on ya’ t’get back.”
The halfling sighed, his shoulders falling with the exhale before lofting back to proper posture. “Do not speak to me like apprentice, Crow. You are comrade, not superior.”
The spirit’s smile lingered, his visage pressing forward to press an incorporeal kiss against the medium’s cheek that passed only as a warm wind. “An’ ain’t we lucky?”
A gravekeeper making his typically quiet nightly rounds watched from afar, cowering behind one of the many tombstones in fear he would need his own should the strange man dancing at its center take notice. He saw nothing but the deranged, a lost halfblood grasping onto the hollow night’s air for a dance that he both entertained and spoke to alone. It wasn’t much longer until the gravekeeper lofted his lantern and turned to flee, refusing to glance back.
He would skip tonight’s rounds.
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