#lighthouse madness

[notyourmamasdeerbat]

A Word With Friends | June 23rd

Hello hello, my friends! I got a little carried away after work so this is very delayed, but happy Monday and happy word of the week, I am so so pleased to be hosting this beyond delightful game for the generous @hedwigoprah ! 🧡 Thank you @officialnostradamus , you absolute vernacular genius, for hosting last week as well. I loved your word!

Rules: Use the challenge word to write a sentence or scene and then tag a few friends.

This week's word is (my all time favorite word) Balter

to dance or tread clumsily, without particular grace or skill

Happy writing, dear ones! I can't wait to see what you all come up with!

Enjoy some sorely needed fluff under the cut; 2K+ words, a continuation of my very very late submission for last week, Rook and Harding recovering from dour conversation and foul portents

“No no, like this–” Rook laughed, gently taking Harding’s hand. It was a little difficult, and the dwarf had to stand on her toes to reach the rogue as they tried to bend down, awkwardly accommodating one another as Rook led them in another stumbling turn. 

Harding dissolved into giggles again, breathlessly clinging to Rook’s fingers with her own. “I’m getting dizzy. How many times do you have to spin?” 

“Twice, then come about. Ready? One, two-three, one, two-three, one two-thr– Harding!” Rook wheezed as Harding trod heavily on their foot, laughing aloud and from their chest for the first time in days. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!” Horrified, the scout went to release their hands. Rook kept a gentle hold and spun the dwarf slowly under their arm, recovering as they spun their shorter partner out a few steps and drew them back in just as carefully. 

“I’m fine. You should have seen Revas. He can’t waltz for anything. He likes to say he can, just don’t believe him.” 

Harding giggled, returning carefully to their starting position in the golden glow of the music room. “You’re pretty good at this. I’ve never waltzed before.” 

“Maybe you can impress Taash later.” 

Harding went cherry red right to the tips of her ears. “I– Oh, no, I don’t think–” 

Rook snickered and smoothly transitioned into another series of slow steps, rotating them round and round across the floor in the silence. Past the piano, around a low table scattered with letters and documents. “Take it slow. One, two-three, one, two three, slow quick-quick, slow quick-quick, now you’re getting it!” 

Harding exhaled, brow furrowing in concentration as she watched their footsteps move in tandem, shadows dancing on the creaking floorboards of Solas’ old respite. Lips moving quietly to continue Rook’s count, she anticipated the extension of Rook’s long arm and turned beneath it, coming back to center without pause. 

“Excellent, my friend! Oh, you’re a natural! Lady Lace Harding. You’ve got the soul of a dowager empress!” Beaming, Rook spun them once more, a little wider apart, across the floor to crash together again, picking up the pace. 

“Oh Maker— Rook–!” Harding protested breathlessly, laughing and out of breath. 

A curious hiss rippled through the chamber underneath the hollow scraping of stone as the door to the music room slid out of sight, revealing the ghostly lilac rays of the astrolabe in the library’s sanctum beyond. 

Harding threw a glance over her shoulder with a grin. “We have an audience!” 

“Manfred!” Rook slowed and carefully released Harding, whose braids stopped swaying when she did, touching her brow with a dizzy grin. “Hey, love! What are you–” 

An indignant screech echoed and bounced off the stones. Manfred startled, hissing animatedly as he clattered into the room, waving his arms wildly, clacking his mandibles together and grinding the teeth of his permanent grin. The stone door began to slide shut behind him, just a furry bundle of lightning skidded around the corner, lifted a bright eyed head, shrieked its recognition and sprang in after him. 

Assan pounced on the wayward skeleton in a tumbling bundle of bone and feathers. They scrambled against the floor, shrieking and hissing as Assan lifted his wings, flapping and squawking in triumph. 

“Woah, woah, hey!” Rook scruffed the thick skin and fuzz at the nape of the griffon’s neck, hoisting him up with a grunt as Assan went immediately limp, foreclaws hanging. “Be careful, be careful!” 

Manfred scuttled back on his hands, bony knees knocking with a joyful cry, mouth still open wide. 

Assan’s tufted tail lashed back and forth eagerly as he panted. 

“Are you two playing?” Rook laughed. 

Manfred hissed happily, and Assan squawked, wings flapping in assent. 

Harding cackled, slumping back down onto the piano bench. “Oh my goodness. I thought maybe Manfred had taken Assan’s favorite carving or something.” 

Manfred asssshhhed indignantly as he wobbled to his feet, taking both bony hands to cover his glittering lenses and bunching his shoulders. 

“You were…? Hiding? Oh, hide and– Assan, you’re supposed to let him hide first!” Rook released the griffon, heart lightening another few degrees as Assan chirped and bounded in happy circles around the skeleton. Manfred turned to follow him, clapping his hands in delight, before settling and planting his booted feet to point at Harding. 

Her hazel eyes widened as she touched the embroidered front of her overalls. “Me?” 

Manfred hissed and turned to point at Rook. Harding hmmed in understanding, starting to smile. “Oh! Us! Rook and I were— well, we were trying to dance. I think.” 

Manfred perked up like a freshly watered lily, seeming enchanted by the thought. Assan squawked and sat, curling his tail over his feet to regard Rook doubtfully. 

“What?” Rook demanded. “I can dance.” 

Assan preened a forefeather, unconvinced. Manfred bounced his hands excitedly, hissing and gurgling as he held out his phalanges to Harding. 

“Oh, no,” Harding laughed. “I’m done. I’m really done for today, I think.” 

Spirit undamped, Manfred only shrugged his collarbones and scapulas to clatter in a jaunty circle, proceeding to balter alone around the space while chattering a rhythmless melody of ‘ra’s and ‘shk’s. 

Rook grinned full tilt, amused by Curiosity’s antics. Assan concurred, cocking his head to one side as his ears folded back, eyes fixed puzzled on the skeleton and his uncoordinated jig. 

“Manfred!” The stone door ground open once more. “If I find even one vertebrae out of alignment, I assure you, I will be very cross ind– Oh!” Harried, Emmrich paused in the archway of the music room, eyes widening at the sight before him. Neve lingered close behind as she tried to catch her breath, smiling to herself with a whole host of glowing wisps drifting behind her. 

Manfred fizzed and whistled, waving over his shoulder by way of greeting as he continued to clatter and spin and wave his arms. 

“Having fun there, Fred?” Neve stepped into the room, the rhythmic clink of her prosthetic leg underscoring the skeleton’s clicks, clacks and whispers of marrow against leather. The wisps chittered curiously, drifting in to follow and illuminate the space even further. “Hey, Rook. Lace.” 

One of the wisps swooped down across the piano after stirring a few strands of Harding’s hair affectionately, bouncing across a few of the keys in a short series of discordant notes. The spirits immediately gathered round the instrument, as if recognizing it through enraptured study.

Assan purred and twined around the detective’s legs, nudging his beak under her hand. “Saw these two thundering by– wanted to see if they needed wrangling.” 

“Wrangling indeed,” Emmrich sniffed, stepping inside, even as his very stern expression was beginning to reluctantly melt into something much softer as he watched his ward sway and wiggle to his own music. The necromancer sighed and folded his hands behind him with a weary smile, regarding Rook sidelong. “I do hope we’re not interrupting.” 

“Not at all. Seeking levity. Manfred followed our example after Harding and I had a heavy chat.” Rook’s lips quirked as the wisps continued to bounce and play along the keys, before everyone grew very very still as the contradictory melody smoothed into something harmonious. Several of the wisps had lined up, jostling each other in line, before moving one after the other in an almost choreographed sequence. 

Everyone but Emmrich seemed dumbstruck as the wisps began to play a dreamy Orlesian waltz in perfect time. The professor’s mouth curved in earnest as he relaxed and settled back slightly on his heels. “Well now. Memory astounds.” 

“You mean–” Harding, enamoured, watched the spirits over her shoulder with a disbelieving grin. “They’re playing something from memory?” 

“Something from this room, or the mind of an occupant. I gather they are all quite familiar. How fascinating.” Emmrich studied the phenomenon fondly, gaze drinking in each tendril of phantasma. Neve chuckled, leaning a shoulder against the wall as she watched the spirits at play. 

“Now that’s something you don’t see every day.” 

Manfred, absolutely overjoyed by the addition of music beyond what he alone could hear, shrieked and redoubled his efforts, beckoning for Assan, whose ears shot straight up as the griffon bounded over to his friend, wings lifted experimentally. Manfred mimed reaching for Assan’s feathered joints and the griffon only spun out of his grasp, chittering and cooing, pleased with this new game as he seemed to trot in time. 

“Oh, here we go.” Grinning, Rook clicked their heels and held a hand out to Emmrich. “Professor?” 

The elder gentleman made a noise, something between a laugh and a sigh. “Oh. It does seem a shame to let the wisps’ talent go to waste.” He took Rook’s hand. “But I warn you, it’s been some time since I–” 

“Me too!” Rook interjected reassuringly, still beaming in the golden hour glow of the Fade beyond the windows. “Don’t be shy. Show us how it’s done.” 

Emmrich exhaled through his nose with a fond smile and offered his other hand with an elegant sweep of his arm. Rook took it as Emmrich rested another broad, thin fingered hand on their shoulder and Rook settled a hand carefully at his side. 

The wisps renewed their melody, a little more quickly than before, and Emmrich took a deep breath before lifting his chin and surging into a graceful tri-step with Rook in tow. The Veil Jumper caught their breath in surprise, beaming as they were swept along and adapted to the necromancer’s dapper pace. 

Harding whistled. “Wow!” 

“That’s what I was thinking,” Rook laughed as Emmrich turned them once in a neat and tidy spin, resuming their tandem. 

“Not too fast, I hope,” Emmrich hummed, confident in his earnesty. 

“Oh, bring it on,” the Veil Jumper challenged, feeling like their face might crack from smiling. 

“It may not be a waltz in definition if we push ourselves too far. Maker forbid– a foxtrot.” 

Rook laughed and shifted their hips one way, gently tugging Emmrich along with them to make way for Manfred and Assan’s spirited clamoring. 

“You’re rather adept at this,” Emmrich observed. 

“This and no other– waltzing was a force of habit in Orlais.” Rook laughed and allowed the necromancer to turn them under his arm, light on their feet. 

“Drilled into muscle memory, I gather.” Emmrich spun them across the floor in a gentle extension of his hand and Rook turned back to meet him as they resumed their dance. 

“Very much. You’re excellent.” 

“Why thank you, Rook. I admit, it took years and years of practice.” 

Neve smiled from her perch, she’d settled down beside Harding on the piano bench. “And how does a mortalitasi Fade-expert come to learn ballroom dances?” 

“Spirits have the most curious habits. Most adore music just as much as we do.” The waltz slowed and eventually drew to a close. Emmrich released Rook with a careful bow, and they returned the gesture gallantly before whirling on the piano bench and holding out their hands eagerly to Neve. 

“Your turn.” 

“No, I don’t think so,” Neve hummed, reproachful, even as her dark eyes glittered with surprised laughter. 

“Oh, but I do. Take it away, garçons.” Grinning as the wisps resumed another, jauntier melody that may have once been some kind of shanty, Rook gently pulled the detective to her feet as she sighed and relinquished her hands. 

Rook gathered her arm and Neve settled her hand in the curve of the Veil Jumper’s waist. Manfred hissed inquisitively and tapped Emmrich on the shoulder, offering both of his hands. 

“Why, Manfred, I’d be delighted.” The necromancer’s crow’s feet crinkled endearingly as he took his ward’s hands in his own and began another, slower waltz, humming along with the piano. Manfred followed determinedly, keeping time with the click of his subtalar joints. Assan sprang up onto the piano bench (barely keeping his haunches from falling off the edge in the limited space) to lay his head in Harding’s lap. 

“I don’t dance, Rook,” Neve said, even as she allowed the rogue to lead them in a graceful turn. 

“You might, if you like. You’re probably better at it than you think.” 

“You’re a little insane, you know that?” 

“What?” Rook hummed, smiling as they spun the detective under their arm and across their chest as she followed, near graceful, almost practiced. Neve never half assed anything, not even an unfamiliar dance. “You hadn’t noticed? The world’s ending and we’re all a little insane. But the wisps are playing piano. I think I’ve been out-crazied. Just for tonight.” 

Neve grinned and tossed her head to flick a lock of dark hair over her shoulder as they turned and spun throughout the music room, the steady clink-clink of her leg keeping excellent tempo. “Watch your toes. This thing isn’t built for waltzing.” 

“Oh, don’t worry. These boots have seen everything.” 

“You invest in anything steel capped?” 

“Next stop at the market if you manage to break my foot. Which you haven’t.” 

“Yet.” 

The uplifting melody grew romantic and classical once more as the door to the music room slid open with the rattling groan of marble and granite. Lucanis stood in the doorway, eyes widening slightly at the sight before him in the warm glow of the chamber. 

“Ah, Lucanis!” Emmrich greeted, waltzing by in the arms of his skeletal companion. “Fine evening, isn’t it?” 

Harding giggled at the look on the assassin’s face. 

Rook beamed over Neve’s shoulder, suddenly feeling startled and exposed, even as they valiantly recalled their count and turned with the detective once more, face heating. “Hey, you.” 

“Hello.” Lucanis blinked, cradling a cup of coffee in his hands. “Am I interrupting?” 

“Not at all.” Neve broke from Rook abruptly and pushed them towards the Antivan Crow with a palm against their lower back, her voice low and sly. “The more the merrier.”

Tagging my beloveds! Do with this what you will and enjoy the game! Remember to have a snack and drink some water- your kidneys will thank you. 🫗💝

@fenrelmercar @draco-illius-noctis @redheadsramblings @the-bear-and-his-sunbird @davrinsleftpectoral @blackwall-my-tiny-husband @sunny374940 @nevarrantorte @caughtnyact @seaglassmelody @strugglinggranola @jenn2d2 @thesummerstorms @woundedsoul12