Chapter Text
The Atelier kitchen smelled of freshly ground chicory, toasted oats, and absolute, impending doom. Agott sat at the long wooden dining table, her spine so rigidly straight it looked painful. She was staring at her porcelain teacup with an intensity that, under the right magical conditions, might have set the ceramic on fire. Her dark hair was neatly brushed, her cloak was pinned with mathematical symmetry, and her expression was a mask of cold, unyielding aristocratic dignity.
It was a very good mask. Unfortunately, it was entirely ruined by the dark, purplish shadows bruising the skin under her eyes, and the fact that her left hand was still trembling slightly whenever she tried to lift her spoon. "Here's your tea, Agott! Extra hot, just like I promised!" Coco burst into the kitchen from the pantry, carrying a steaming earthenware pot with both hands. She looked completely refreshed, her blonde hair bouncing with a terrifying amount of morning vitality,
her face entirely clear of ink for once. She set the pot down right next to Agott, giving her a bright, lingering smile that practically radiated physical heat. "Thank you. Set it down and return to your seat," Agott said, her voice dropping into her formal, icy register. She did not look up. She kept her eyes locked onto the swirling amber liquid in her cup. "And do not speak so loudly. The walls of this kitchen have echoes." "Okay!" Coco chirped, entirely unbothered, and trotted back to the stove to help stir the porridge. The moment Coco’s back was turned, the atmosphere at the table shifted. Agott felt a sudden prickle of unease at the back of her neck. Slowly, reluctantly, she shifted her gaze across the table.
Tetia was sitting directly opposite her, her chin propped in both hands, her elbows planted firmly on the wood. Her wide, bright eyes were locked onto Agott with an expression of pure, unadulterated mischief.
Next to her, Riche was systematically breaking a piece of hard crust bread into microscopic, identical crumbs, her dark eyes completely deadpan but fixed entirely on Agott’s face. Agott cleared her throat stiffly. "Why are you two staring at me? If you have finished your morning reading, I suggest you practice your basic strokes. The Great Hall inspection is not going to delay itself for your amusement." Tetia didn't move. A slow, massive, entirely wicked grin spread across her face, stretching from ear to ear. "Sooo," Tetia whispered, leaning forward so fast her silver hair ribbons clattered. "Agott. The mountain wind was really crazy last night, wasn't it? So, so cold." Agott’s fingers tightened around her spoon until her knuckles turned white. "It was a standard seasonal drop. A well-prepared witch simply utilizes a thermal crest on her mattress." "Oh, is that what we're calling Coco now?" Riche asked flatly. She didn't look up from her breadcrumbs, her voice entirely monotone, which somehow made the strike ten times more lethal. "A thermal crest. Fascinating. I didn't know Master Qifrey’s curriculum included mobile, blonde heating systems."
"Riche!" Agott hissed, her face instantly exploding into a violent, furious pink. She threw a panicked look toward the stove, but Coco was currently distracted, trying to explain the concept of a "microwave" to a very confused, semi-sentient hearth spirit. "Keep your ridiculous, unverified observations to yourself!" "Unverified?" Tetia gasped, her hands flying to her cheeks in mock scandal. "Agott, I have eyes! I saw Coco roll out of your bed this morning looking like a little sun-baked pastry! She was practically glowing! And you looked like... well, you looked like a ghost that had been haunted by a very loud, very cuddly specter." "It was a logistical necessity!" Agott ground out through clenched teeth, her voice a harsh, desperate whisper.
She leaned across the table, trying to minimize the radius of the conversation. "Coco’s blanket had fallen to the floor. She was experiencing severe hypothermic tremors. As the senior apprentice in the room, it was my administrative duty to ensure she did not freeze to death and disrupt our group study schedule. It was an efficiency measure!" Riche quietly popped a breadcrumb into her mouth, chewed slowly, and swallowed. "You have three spare wool quilts in your trunk, Agott. I checked last week when we were organizing the linen inventory." Agott froze. Her mind scrambled, hit a wall, and completely shattered. The quilts. I forgot about the quilts. "I... the trunk was locked," Agott stammered, her usual silver-tongued precision completely failing her. her face was burning so hot now she was certain she was giving off actual physical mana.
"The key was... the key was in my other robe. It would have been inefficient to look for it in the dark." "Oh, naturally," Tetia cooed, her voice dripping with an insufferable, honeyed sweetness. She reached across the table and patted Agott’s trembling hand with exaggerated sympathy. "We completely understand, Agott. You're just so dedicated to efficiency. It must have been so hard for you, being forced to hold her close all night just to keep the Atelier's productivity levels high. What a tragic sacrifice." "I did not hold her close!" Agott shouted a little too loudly. At the stove, Coco blinked and turned around, holding a wooden spoon. "Did someone say my name?"
"No!" Agott snapped, her voice cracking slightly. She practically slammed her teacup back into its saucer, her posture going into full defensive overdrive. "Go back to your porridge, Coco! Your presence is... your focus is required elsewhere!" "Oh. Okay!" Coco smiled sweetly and turned back around, completely oblivious to the emotional warfare happening ten feet away.
The moment Coco turned back, Tetia buried her face in her arms, her shoulders shaking violently with silent, breathless laughter. Riche let out a tiny, rare puff of amusement through her nose, tapping her finger against the table. "You're very red, Agott," Riche observed, her dark eyes glittering with a rare spark of malice. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say your internal geometry is currently experiencing a severe emotional deviation." "My geometry is perfect," Agott hissed, her eyes narrowed into lethal slits as she glared at the two of them. "We are acquaintances. Simply acquaintances who share a dormitory. If either of you breathes a single word of this ridiculous fantasy to Master Qifrey, I will personally rewrite the glyphs on your laundry baskets so that all of your socks permanently smell like bog-mud."
Tetia finally looked up from her arms, wiping a tear of laughter from her eye. "Aw, don't be like that, Agott! We're just admiring your... excellent hospitality. Right, Riche?" "Right," Riche nodded solemnly. "Very hospitable. Next time I'm cold, I'll make sure to crawl into your bed too, Agott. Just for efficiency." Agott stood up so abruptly her chair scraped violently against the stone floor, catching Coco’s attention once again. "I am going to the study," Agott announced, her voice tight, her face a majestic, ruined crimson from her forehead to the collar of her dark robes.
She swept her cloak around her shoulders with a sharp, defensive flourish. "Where the books, at least, possess some semblance of intelligence and restraint." She stormed out of the kitchen, the heavy wooden door clicking shut behind her. Inside the kitchen, Tetia immediately burst out into loud, victorious giggles, high-fiving a completely expressionless Riche across the table. Coco walked over, holding two bowls of steaming porridge, looking utterly bewildered. "What happened to Agott?" Coco asked, tilting her head as she watched the closed door. "Did I make the tea too hot?" "No, Coco," Tetia grinned, taking her bowl with a massive, knowing wink. "I think you made it exactly the right temperature."