Manfred would love sand mixing ASMR tbh.
Rook wakes up in the middle of the night and hears what appears to be a man in boots stomping through snow.
"Emmrich. Emmrich. There's a yeti in the living room."
"Shh." Emmrich presses two fingers to their mouth and purses his lips and does not open his eyes. He's very dedicated to beauty sleep. When he found out Lucanis routinely stays up for 72 consecutive hours, he stared blankly at a wall for four straight minutes. "My love. It's far too early."
Rook swats his arm. "Yeti! In! The living room!"
"Darling, yetis haven't been seen since the Steel Age, and they were native to the Frostback--"
"Why do you know this?" Rook hisses. The evil snowman noises are intensifying. They flop around with the pillows for a moment and eventually succeed in locating their mage knife wedged beside the headboard. When they turn back over, Emmrich grabs their wrist and neatly twists the knife out of their hand--which just proves that he's never quite as asleep as he seems, and also that Rook needs to goad him into holding them down more often.
Thoughts for another time.
"It's Manfred," Emmrich sighs, long suffering, and drops the mage knife over the side of the bed.
"Shh," Emmrich says again. The fingers are back. Rook bites one of them and Emmrich doesn't even react, just waits patiently like the owner of a particularly troublesome cat. He says, "Manfred has a bauble--a small sphere--that can show certain sounds and images. He enjoys ones involving sand. Also water, and occassionally nugs."
There's a lot to unpack here, though the one that Rook chooses is, "Nugs?" Emmrich's fingertip in their mouth makes it sound like 'nng?' but Emmrich is, it has to be said, an extremely clever man, so he gets the jist.
"Yes. He finds them funny and cute, I think. There's a particular very clumsy nug living in a defunct Thaig in northern Ferelden that he enjoys watching."
"And the sphere accesses these images by...?"
"Manipulating certain benign energies in the Veil." Emmrich lifts a hand, spreads his fingers and sends little aesthetic swirls of magic puffing up from his fingers. One of them is shaped like a heart. He says, "It's magic, my dear." It's a move he's used before. It's a really good move that he will continue to use because Rook loves it so fucking much and it works every damn time.
"Why is he playing with his orb at Fade o'clock at night?" It's daylight outside, as it always is, but Rook feels in their bones that it's the witching hour. Very late or very early and very liminal in nature.
Emmrich shifts very close to them, bringing his warmth and his sweetness, and traces the pad of his thumb over their cheek. "Manfred does not sleep, and nights are very long. It's easy for a spirit with such a sociable personality to feel lonely in the dark and stillness. He needed something to...help him pass the time, and remind him of all the little, wonderful things he might see in this world."
"Emmrich," Rook whispers, quietly delighted. "You gave him dreams."
"That's...quite astute of you, darling. I suppose, if one looks at it in that way--"
A blast of chaotic sound echoes from the living area. They shoot up as one, and Rook is already halfway through a vault over Emmrich's knees to get their forsaken knife when a sort of apologetic hissing issues frantically from the bottom of the stairs.
"The volume," Emmrich sighs, palm on his face, "is touchy."
Rook can do very little but laugh.