The Noon Witch
By now, Addam was well used to the crackling of a campfire. It was a simple, wholesome sound - half the warmth really was in the wood popping from steam pockets buried deep within. Oh, and that was probably true for some chemical reason or other, but he really didn't feel like asking Brighid or, Architect forbid, Aegaeon about it. No, the superstition of it all suited Addam just fine.
He could drift off quicker than was admirable, with a delicious meal in his stomach and a wealth of gratitude in his heart, lulled to sleep by the irregular rhythm of the fire.
But recently, the fire had started talking back a little more than usual. It was so fleeting as to make Addam think he'd imagined it, but every now and then there'd be a sharper crack, much closer than the rest. Sometimes there were fizzing noises, too. However, whenever Addam attempted to inspect the source of the disturbance, he saw no splashed water or disfigured logs taking a final tumble toward the heart of the blaze.
It was only when the noise made an appearance in the morning, when the pit was little more than sand and embers, that Addam figured it out.
"Must you?" he groaned, turning on Minoth with eyes that rolled with a greater viscereality than anyone could ever have expected from the peaceable golden prince.
"What, snore? Think that's your department, Prince."
"No!" Addam wailed. "You're cracking your knuckles so loud Indol can hear it!"
Blinking, Minoth took a step back. "Woah there. I don't even have a comeback for that. You okay, Addam?"
"I suppose it's still up for debate..."
"Well, far be it from me to cause you any further agitation. I'll stop."
"Thank you," Addam muttered. "It's just that I'm practically hearing it in my sleep, it took me so long to figure out what it was."
"Oh, trust me, there are a lot of things for you to hear in your sleep."
"Huh?"
Suddenly Minoth took an equally uncharacteristically sheepish look. "Oh, nothing."
"No, no, spit it out. I want to know what it is I do that annoys you."
"It's not me-"
"Enough vascillating. What is it?"
Minoth sighed, hanging his head in defeat. "Look. I crack my knuckles, my wrists clack like a skeleton's, my leg bounces whenever I sit down and sometimes even when I'm standing up."
(In fact, it had just assumed the position.)
"But you...you just make a lot of...extraneous sounds."
"In my sleep?" Addam frowned, hand on chin. "I thought snoring was a forgivable sin."
Another sigh. "Not just snoring. You say things."
"What things?" Addam's tone sharpened considerably through the question.
"...don't worry about it."
But Addam worried.