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New Draconic Scrabble was an easy enough game to pick up--it had the same rules as the modern English original, same point spaces, same disputes over what a word meant, and even if it was a word at all. However, in order to play New Draconic Scrabble, one had to both speak and read New Draconic, and also be able to write in it. After all, the Scrabble that lined the shelves of toy stores and supermarkets the world over had not been constructed with the knowledge of another world inside of it, beside it, above and beneath it. So, several days ago, Douxie had brought home a Scrabble board, and both Nari and Archie agreed to make some extra challenging, yet nostalgic, modifications. Given that Douxie habitually stayed about six feet away from anything harder to read than his sci-fi novels, he’d given the game a wide berth. New Draconic Scrabble quickly became a nightly tradition while the familiar and the sister waited for Douxie to return home from his increasingly late shifts.
Nari pinched a tile between delicate fingers and considered. Earlier in the game, she’d set up a foundation for shulmaka , one of her favorite Draconic words meaning “apple tree,” but in the clever, intuitive way that Archie always did things, he’d pushed tiles toward her word and made shulatan , meaning “apple pie.” With the tiles available to her, Nari took the “n” at the end of the word and made it into nitullu . Archie hummed as she rifled through the pouch to replenish her supply.
“Whitefish!” he said. “One of my father’s favorites.”
“Oh?”
“Yes.” Archie’s tone turned wistful as his tail twitched. “When I was younger, he would make it with butter-lemon-dill sauce. Whitefish is so sturdy that way--it can handle a sauce like that.” He paused, rearranging the tiles on his own holder. “Perhaps I can convince Douxie to bring some home for us. I think I remember the recipe well enough to--”
The door to the shoebox studio apartment opened behind them. Nari couldn’t help but be relieved every time Douxie came home each night, not only for his own safety, but simply so that he could finally rest. And tonight, the dark circles under his eyes were more obvious than they had been in previous days.
“Welcome home, brother!” Nari cheerfully greeted, turning in her chair and narrowly missing Archie with her antlers. “How was work tonight?”
Douxie opened his mouth as he
“Ach! Wass getéored dægweorc!”
Slowly, Nari turned back to Archie, who mischievously flicked his tail. Subtitles appeared beneath Douxie, and, as was always the case when the game started, Douxie was far too tired to notice. The game was simple: when Douxie became so tired he reverted to his native Old English, Nari and Archie would bet on how long it would be until he noticed. Nari had a standard bet of five minutes; Archie usually bet an hour. Whoever got closest got to choose the next place they ordered from for dinner.
“Oh?” Archie asked innocently enough as Douxie stumbled into the kitchenette and rifled through the fridge. “What was so tiring about it?”
“Eh, Þá bryðenna wass manigfealdu. Hwa bitst for sum Þré-shot caramel macchiato eac monegum scota swéte sēaw in Þá fám æt middelniht?” Eh, their orders were complicated. Who asks for a triple-shot caramel macchiato with extra shots of chocolate syrup in their cold foam at midnight?
Nari bit her lip. There was a reason she was almost always victorious--she always let Douxie in on the game by bursting into laughter. Archie was much better at keeping his poker face steady.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Archie suggested, “maybe a college student?”
“Næ!” Douxie exclaimed as he opened the milk carton and took a sniff. He cringed. “Archie, ģemandamé afran scoppa morgenlic.” Archie, remind me to stop at the store tomorrow.
“Will do,” Archie said, never losing composure. “Now, who was it that ordered that drink?”
“Ach!” Douxie slammed the milk carton back into the fridge with disdain. He put his hands on his hips. “Wass sum Karen!” It was a Karen!
Nari lost it. Her giggles tinkled through the air, and, to Archie’s relief, Douxie thought that she was laughing at his story. It was about time he scored a win.
“Gea!” Douxie continued. “Sum Karen! Hwa Karen wass út æt middelniht, ic i becnǡwe ne!” Yeah! A Karen! What a Karen was doing out at midnight, I don’t know!
“Ac,” he said as he pulled a chair from the rickety dining table and plunked down in it, “héo oþíewede efenlæ sum. Héo feax wass wætergefeall en foreweard, igil en bæc!” She looked just like one. Her hair was waterfall in the front, porcupine in the back!
Nari wheezed--honest to Deya, wheezed. Archie hardly thought it was possible, but was so surprised to be proven wrong, that he let out a laugh as well. Douxie looked between the two of them.
“I... hwæt no bréostgehygd i wass swá ċeahheteþ-wirþe…” I...didn’t know it was that funny...
And slowly, a light dawned in Douxie’s exhausted, narrow face.
“...Fuzzbuckets.”
Nari continued her spasming laughter, and Archie rolled his eyes.
“All right, fine, Nari,” the cat-dragon grumbled, “You win. Again.”
Douxie groaned and ran a hand down his face.
“That’s the third time this week,” he groaned. Archie put a tiny, soft paw over Douxie’s unoccupied hand.
“You need sleep, Douxie. Otherwise,” he glanced over at Nari, crystal tears streaming down her green cheeks, “we’ll be eating from Delia’s Salads every night for the next month.”
Nari recovered enough to put a shaking hand on Douxie’s shoulder.
“I agree with Archie. Even if it means we don’t play our little game, I think you need more rest than you’re giving yourself.”
With a heavy sigh, Douxie shrugged.
“What else am I supposed to do? Gotta have money for rent, food--you know, things necessary to live. And I never was very good with alchemy.”
Archie cringed--last time Douxie had attempted the transformation of coal to gold, the smoke could be seen for miles into the forest. Merlin had been most displeased, and they had spent hours cleaning out the study.
“That you weren’t. But Douxie,” Archie said, “you’re no use dead, either. You can’t give from what you don’t have.”
A faint glow to Douxie’s right. Nari’s tiny hand was clenched around Douxie’s wrist, and it was emitting a warm, yellow glow--almost like sunlight. Douxie found his body straightening, and his mind clearing.
“There,” Nari said as the glowing faded. “Just enough energy to go put on pajamas and get into bed. Surely, you can call in and take one day off.”
With a heavy, conceding sigh, Douxie rolled his shoulders and stood from the table.
“Fine.” He turned toward the cramped bedroom, shrugging off his hoodie. Before he could enter, though, he turned over his shoulder.
“Maybe you could teach me that new Scrabble.”
Archie’s whiskers curled. He knew that Douxie was only being polite--he’d never taken to learning ancient languages. But the fact that he was suggesting that he would try, and in an effort to actually take a break for once, warmed him right to his little heart.
“Sleep well, brother,” Nari called after him, her voice still musical with mirth. The bedroom door shut, and Nari could sense through her aura that Douxie hadn’t even undressed before collapsing into his mattress and falling asleep.