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The amber smolder of another Autumn sunset pulled the early hours of Halloween over the atelier. Moonlight swam on the surface of the lake, rippling molten silver in the breeze that whispered across the hills. Tasselmice scurried from their hiding places, thriving under the cozy blanket of darkness that bathed the sky in ink.
Inside the warmth of the atelier’s stone walls, apprentices had long since crept to bed with yawned excitement for the morning to come. Brushbug curled by the hearth, basking in the tranquil heat of the flames as it napped. The wind tapped against their windows and blew the night’s sweet slumber through the cracks, sending blissful dreams to those who’d let rest encompass them.
Olruggio bit back a yawn as he pushed needle through fabric for the thousandth time that night.
Next to him, Qifrey dozed with a book pressed open on his chest. Soft snores disturbed the quiet; they kept Olruggio company as his eyes blurred and focussed on the fine details of his craft. When he needed to give them a break from the strain, he shifted his gaze to the slope of Qifrey’s jaw, of his nose, settled on the way his mouth hung open so charmingly before sighing and jabbing his needle through again.
“Ouch!” Olruggio hissed, wedging his finger into his mouth in a futile attempt to ease the sting where he’d sewn skin rather than cotton. “Goddamnit, how many more times am I gonna do that I swear to-”
“Olly,” a tired groan cut his solitude.
When he turned his head to apologize, Qifrey’s half-lidded exhaustion greeted him. He scrubbed a hand over his eye to shoo away the heavy pull that tempted to drag him back to sleep, groaning as his attempts to sit up were met with a click in his shoulders. Olruggio rubbed his calf in sympathy.
“Sorry, I’ll keep it down,” he mumbled. “Go back to sleep.”
“No, it’s quite alright.” Qifrey stretched his arms behind his head. He spoke through a yawn “I’m up now. If I wanted peace I’d have slept in my room. Besides, you’re still up for the girls’ sake right?"
Olruggio rubbed his neck.
“Yeah, still got a couple more costumes left to finish,” he yawned. Qifrey’s had been contagious, and had reminded him of just how exhausted he felt. “It’s alright, ‘m almost done.”
“I suppose if you’re still busy then I’ll make a start on their treats.” Qifrey pulled his legs from Olruggio’s lap, who immediately missed their weight and warmth. “I rather enjoy cooking this late, anyway.”
“Qifrey, just get some rest. They won’t be needin’ any sugar until the evening anyway, I’ll look after them at lunch so just sort it out then,” Olruggio said.
Ignoring him, Qifrey pushed up from the couch. A swift kiss was pressed to his temple, the small laugh that huffed through Qifrey’s nose rustling his hair. He shot Olruggio a playful smile and hopped down the stairs to the kitchen.
“If I make a start now I’ll be able to make a greater assortment of foods for the girls, which I’m certain they'll be pleased with. I’ll be much more content relaxing at lunch tomorrow rather than fretting over some apple tarts,” he chuckled.
A yawn trembled from Qifrey’s lips, unfairly melodic compared to Olruggio’s gruff gasps that shook his entire body. The sleeves of his robe already hung low around his hips, a fact that had escaped the attention of Qifrey who pawed at his shoulders, eyebrows twisted downward in the soft lamplight of the kitchen. Exhaustion forced him to roll back his shoulders, tight in the confines of his turtleneck. He tugged open the leather straps that cradled the skin of his neck and indulged in an exhale when he could breathe without their firm press. Olruggio watched the rise and fall of his chest through tired eyes.
Eventually, he pulled his eyes away from Qifrey. A groan threatened to break at the sight of the unfinished garment in his lap, but he pushed through for the sake of protecting the youthful joy of the girls that currently slept in eager anticipation of their costumes. He listened to the sounds of Qifrey moving around the kitchen, felt a sigh enfold his chest with a gentle serenity and smiled.
Soft clacks rang in the silence as cookware met the countertop. It harmonized with the crackle of the firewood, performing the melody of their domesticity even at such an early hour. Olruggio passed his needle through Tetia’s costume to every other rhythmic fall of Qifrey’s knife against the chopping board.
Comfort nestled into his chest, bloomed like the meadows in spring at the first rays of sun.
Olruggio weaved clouds of cotton until a dress fit for a brushbug princess sat completed in his lap. He sank with relief and bit the thread, muscle memory looping it through the final stitch and pulling with all the strength he could muster under the moon’s sluggish weight. Just one more costume remained. Thankfully, it was for his smallest client.
“Brushbug, c’mere,” Olruggio slumped into the couch, lazily beckoning to the sleeping creature with a slow wave of his hand. It continued to nap, blissfully unaware and basking in the warmth of the fire. Soft snores hid beneath the flickering flames. “Oi, it’s measuring time. I promised Tetia you’d be dressed like her tomorrow, you can go back to sleep after. Qifrey an’ I are sufferin’ for it too.”
Usually, Olruggio could summon the creature to his side with even the smallest of breaths. Yet, not even he could override the pleasant grip of sleep in the warmth of the hearth’s glow. He knew the depth of such a sleep intimately. He often napped there too.
Indeed, he was going to have to tempt the brushbug with something stronger.
The floorboards groaned under the heavy clamor of Olruggio’s hands across the hardwood. His body remained twisted on the couch, his face creased with the pained expression of a man who knew he was far too old to be contorting his body this much. Grunting, he swept his hand across the floor until his fingers met the familiar chill of an ink bottle.
“Goddamnit,” Olruggio near whined as he tried to grip the glass between his fingers. He’d stretched as far as he could possibly go, his spine writhing beneath his skin, the bones of his wrist cracking in protest. He snatched the bottle and darted back to the couch like a released spring.
Even through his struggle, brushbug continued to snooze.
“C’mon, I’ll let you get at the ink,” Olruggio yawned. He rubbed his shoulder and pulled the lid from the bottle. “I know you can smell it, you little devil. The girls’ll be upset with me if I don’t get you measured for this costume.”
Again, there was no response. Olruggio screamed soundlessly into his hands and moved to his final, last-ditch effort.
“Pspsps.” Face flush red, Olruggio recalled the sounds he often heard the girls making when they tried, and often failed, to get the creature's attention. “Pspspsps.”
No movement.
“P-Pspsps..psps.”
Not even a twitch.
It seemed Olruggio was going to have to risk its wrath by measuring it while it slept. A few bite marks would have to be worth it.
He heard a snort from the kitchen and longed to seep into the cushions like goo.
“Puffpuff,” Qifrey called from the kitchen.
Brushbug bolted up in protest.
“You’ve gotta be kiddin’ me.”
“It works,” Qifrey hummed. Olruggio could picture the aggravatingly sweet smile on his face.
With that image in mind, Olruggio figured it was time to move to the kitchen. Just to make sure he was picturing it correctly, naturally.
He heaved himself to his feet. A hissed curse accompanied the movement, as did the sleepy patter of claws which culminated in a pair of beady eyes begging for a lift. The glow of the moon crept high enough to shine through the atelier’s skylight, a visual reminder that Olruggio was working against an ever-ticking clock. If he didn’t want to experience horrors worse than any other Halloween, namely the disappointed pouts of four young children who weren’t afraid of dragging him by the cloak, then he'd best swallow his yawns and finish his sewing.
Brushbug scampered up Olruggio’s offered arm and settled around his shoulders. The warm weight of it snuggling into his neck told that the creature was dangerously close to snoozing again if he wasn’t fast. Once he’d stumbled down the stairs, fabric thrown over his shoulder and his sewing needle pressed between his teeth, Olruggio squeezed Qifrey’s hip as he passed him and slumped down at the table.
“Dare I ask what costume the girls have asked you to make for the poor thing?” Qifrey asked. Apples sizzled in the pan as it danced above a pyreball, spilling the sweet scent of an Autumn orchard into the cozy air. It filled the room like a hug, warm and comfortable.
“Well, since Tetia is gonna be a brushbug princess they insisted that I made it a Tetia costume.” He remembered their big, pleading eyes with a sigh. “The cloak’s gonna be a nightmare. I’m just glad I already made it a hat after the girls begged me a couple months back.”
Olruggio deposited the sleepy brushbug onto the table, still sleepy but sniffing curiously at the delicious scent. The soft length of its fur tickled Olruggio’s fingertip as he traced it down its back. Truthfully, he did feel bad for waking it from its nap when Olruggio himself wished he was curled in his own bed, preferably with his nose pressed to skin rather than his pillow.
Qifrey undoing his neck straps.. certainly hadn’t helped.
If they were lucky, they’d get at least an hour by the time they finished before the girls came rushing down in their excitement. Just enough time to tangle his feet with Qifrey’s to rid them of their chill. Nowhere near enough to get his fix of the earthy scent that clung to his neck.
For now, the closest he’d get to that fantasy was the split second his eyes closed every time he blinked. So, he got to work with wrapping the measuring tape loosely around Brushbug, his consideration for the animal’s natural hatred for being constricted by clothing reminding him to leave plenty of room for movement. If the poor thing didn’t want the cloak on, it would have enough space to wiggle out of it with ease. And, if he knew the creature as well as he thought he did, that tolerance wouldn’t last longer than five minutes.
Which was a relief, because the effort he needed to put into the execution and accuracy depleted with the knowledge that it would be crumpled and kicked beneath the sofa before the other girls could even finish admiring their own costumes.
A sufficiently cloak-shaped cut of fabric and some ink for the collar and buttons should do the trick.
It was late. If the girls noted that he’d slacked on Brushbug’s costume then he’d be glad to deal with that after he’d slept.
“Here, a peace offering.” Qifrey walked over to the table with a small chunk of apple pinched between his fingertips. For a moment, through his exhaustion, Olruggio thought that it was for him. Blessedly, Brushbug was faster at snatching the fruit from his hand and scarfing it down as though it had been starved for months.
“Ack!” Qifrey hissed and clutched his finger. Betrayal flashed his eye for one brief, pitiful moment. He spoke through a winced smile. “I should’ve known that you’d bite me.. again. Dear me, is the nickname really that bad?”
It was impossible to hold back laughter after the resolute noise Brushbug made in response.
That comfortable, cheerful atmosphere dragged them deeper into the night.
Tart crusts were baked as stitches were sewn, filled with a decadent apple jam as pen nib seared details into seafoam blue fabric. A collar and buttons permanently etched into the finished cloak as Qifrey took up his knife again to decorate the snacks with fresh apple slices. Fire seals used to simmer and cook crackled to a stop as Olruggio dropped his needle with a final sigh.
“Done,” he wheezed. A thud echoed when he slumped his cheek onto the table.
Qifrey laughed. His thumbs found Olruggio’s shoulders to ease the tight knots that permanently took residence in them. A pot of caramel bubbled a few feet away.
“Good job,” he soothed. “Now you can help me with the caramel apples.”
“Huh?”
“Two hands make lighter work, my dear.” Qifrey swatted him gently with a tea towel. “We’ll finish a lot quicker if you handle the caramel apples while I pipe the meringues.”
Olruggio whined but nonetheless resigned himself to his fate. He enjoyed cooking with Qifrey enough to find the energy, and he certainly wasn’t going to bed without him. “Fine, what’re you wanting me to decorate ‘em with?”
“I’ve got some white chocolate and liquorice, I thought the girls would enjoy it if they looked like ghosts,” Qifrey mumbled into his hair.
“Not brushbugs?”
“That’s what the meringues are for,” Qifrey sang. Smug, he traipsed over to the countertop and picked up a cloth bag filled with meringue. A raised eyebrow shot a challenging look back to Olruggio. “The chocolate is melted and the caramel should be ready by now. I already poked the sticks into the apples.”
Well. Olruggio couldn’t really protest; he did think the girls would enjoy some ghost apples.
Or, at least three of them would.
In fact, the thought gave Olruggio pause for a moment. He couldn’t imagine Qifrey forgetting such an important detail about one of his apprentices, yet four apples were indeed lined up before him making it undeniable that he intended one to be made for all of them.
Qifrey must’ve noticed his confusion, his laugh came low and charming. “I’ll cut up Richeh’s into smaller slices for her and let her decide whether she wants to eat it. Even if she only eats the chocolate and caramel, I at least want to give her the freedom to make that choice herself instead of leaving her out.”
Sharp as ever. Attentive of his girls down to the smallest of details. Olruggio relaxed into a smile and got to work dipping and decorating the apples.
Beside him, Qifrey swirled his piping bag in small circles, building and building until they stood to a short peak. Olruggio could see the shape of a curled up brushbug that he’d created, though the actual creature was too busy snoozing to bristle at their likeness. Though he was tempted to continue to watch him, Olruggio peeled his eyes away from Qifrey’s delicate fingers as they clutched the piping bag and focussed on his own work.
For another thirty or so minutes, they worked in tandem with practiced hands. Each apple was dipped and cooled with a quick efficiency, decorated finally with the spooky eyes that Olruggio had cut from the liquorice. A tray of sweet brushbugs sat in front of Qifrey, who dropped his piping bag with a yawned groan.
“These will take a while to bake, so I’ll just put them under a repetition seal until the morning,” Qifrey sighed in relief.
With the end finally in sight they made quick work of the clean up. Sluggish bodies shuffled around the kitchen, trying their hardest not to stumble and crash into anything that would make too much noise.
Eventually, though it felt like they’d been awake for days, the couple collapsed onto the sofa.
“Perhaps we got a little bit carried away,” Qifrey scratched his cheek sheepishly, both of their gazes quivering in mild horror as they noticed the sun peeking over the horizon.
Oh, how Olruggio craved his bed.
“I just hope the girls like it,” he groaned.
“Mm, I rather think they will. They’re good kids, I’m certain they’ll be pleased we made the effort.”
Olruggio slumped his head against the back of the sofa and thought of all the sleep he wouldn’t have missed had he simply started the Halloween prep sooner. Not that he’d had the time to do that either.
Sluggish, Qifrey curled his legs onto the couch. The heavy fall of his head against Olruggio’s shoulder stunned his drooping eyes from succumbing to slumber. Both of their bodies sunk comfortably into the cushion, wrapped in the delightful air that their cooking and the dying fire had created. Olruggio knew they couldn’t sleep here, but he felt as though gravity had pinned him to his spot in exasperation of his exhaustion.
He yawned and nudged Qifrey.
“We should go to bed.”
“We should.”
Qifrey’s voice came low, testament to his sleepiness. He rarely lasted longer than five minutes when he spoke like that. Usually, Olruggio took that as a warning to move them to a bed as soon as possible, but he could hardly even blink for the effort.
“Qifrey,” he groaned. “I don’t think I can get up.”
Silence sung sweetly in his ear.
Olruggio whined. “Qifrey.”
A response eluded him once more. Only the sound of quiet, steady breaths seemed to permeate the quiet.
It came as no surprise, when he turned to look at Qifrey, that he found him fast asleep.
The warmth in his chest stoked into a flame. A chuckle peeled from his lips, the image of Qifrey blurring as his eyes sealed shut with his own fatigue. Instead of disturbing the pocket of rest that Qifrey had created for himself, Olruggio readjusted their bodies so that they were snuggled more comfortably together. His nose burrowed deep into Qifrey’s neck, inhaled the scent of pastry and earth, then exhaled to ebb the chill on the skin.
Five minutes.
Then he’d wake him up.
Yeah. That sounded reasonable.
It wasn’t until the distant sound of birdsong flittered into his ears that he understood that no, it very much was not reasonable. He should’ve known he’d fall asleep just as fast as Qifrey had. Or, more accurately, he had known, but had chosen to ignore it in his exhaustion.
Half-conscious, Olruggio focussed on the crisp air that bit at his cheeks; the hearth had long since snuffed. Sunlight filtered through his eyelids, not enough to dazzle him but a calming wake-up call with nature’s harmonic song as accompaniment. Sleep still had a loose grip on him, leaving him drowsy as he became more aware of the body that pressed blissfully to his.
Olruggio rubbed his cheek against Qifrey’s scalp. He hummed a low, content sigh.
He blamed his sleepiness on his inability to brace himself when he heard the vague sound of four young children inhaling breath. Giddy.
“BOO!”
If Olruggio hadn’t bit his tongue, he worried he may have yelled a word that no respectful adult would ever yell at a child. Biting back a curse, quite literally, had saved their poor girls from that experience.
Thankfully, Qifrey had only screamed.
“Good heavens, girls!” Qifrey groaned and rubbed his head from where it had launched into Olruggio’s chin.
“Morning professors,” Tetia ignored him. Her smile was wide with excitement.
“You slept on the couch again, even though you could catch a cold,” Agott scolded. It seemed she was holding a slight grudge for the many times Olruggio and Qifrey had shooed the girls upstairs even though they were cozily napping by the hearth.
Though, he supposed it wasn’t unlike the pair of them to lead the girls by bad example when it came to sleeping habits.
“Doesn’t explain the yellin’” Olruggio grumbled. Exhaustion crept over him now that the shock had worn off.
Tetia bounced on her heels, her hands clasped together in wonder. “We saw all the treats in the kitchen and got too excited!”
“The ghost candy apples are so cute!” Coco giggled.
As though he wasn’t running on a measly couple of hours of sleep, Qifrey grinned at the girls. When he spoke, it was with a lively clarity that Olruggio would never be awake enough to achieve.
“I’m glad you like them girls, but they’re for later,” he chuckled.
“Richeh already ate one.”
Ah. They should’ve anticipated that one.
Qifrey’s jaw nearly hit the floor, regardless. “Richeh?!”
Olruggio groaned. “This is why I told you to make them this afternoon, Qifrey.”
Now they’d have to handle a sugar-fuelled Richeh for the entire morning. Not that they particularly minded. Olruggio supposed it was only fair to let the sugar before breakfast rule slide, especially on the holiday specifically designed for children to indulge in all the sugar they could possibly find.
He might regret that later.
“Nevermind,” Qifrey laughed. “The costumes look wonderful girls. Olruggio put a lot of effort into them, I’m pleased they turned out well.”
Now that Qifrey had mentioned it, Olruggio realized that in the commotion he hadn’t actually processed that they’d already changed into them. Coco’s myrphon costume appeared to fit well, as did Agott’s owlcat one. When his eyes found Tetia, the girl was twisting and turning in her brushbug princess dress, all seams seemingly accounted for and sewn properly. Finally, Richeh stood quietly with a beaming grin and a wild sugar-fuelled look in her eyes, apparently content in her scalewolf costume.
Even Brushbug looked comfy with its cloak, hat and stuffed pigtails.
Regardless. He wouldn’t relax until he was certain that he hadn’t forgotten anything. Just because the girls looked happy, it didn’t mean he was certain that he hadn’t forgotten to remove a pin or sew a seam somewhere.
“Are the costumes all okay, girls?” Olruggio asked. He yawned and grabbed the sewing kit he’d left next to the couch. “Everything fit comfortably?”
“Mine’s okay Master Olruggio,” Coco smiled. She seemed a little distracted by the winter plumage on Agott’s costume, if the way her eyes glittered at the fluffy fabric was anything to go by.
“Mine is fine, too,” Agott confirmed, tolerantly letting Coco run her hand over the soft shoulder of her outfit.
Tetia spun again and posed. “It’s so cute, I love it! Thanks Master Olly!”
“Richeh’s sleeves are too long.”
Olruggio beckoned her forward with a gentle smile. “C’mere.”
He felt Qifrey stand from beside him, presumably to make a start on breakfast, as he rolled Richeh’s sleeve higher until she gave him a small nod to stop. The ache in his fingers was difficult to ignore after all the sewing he’d done the night before, but he attentively added a few stitches to the new hem as a quick fix. It didn’t need to be perfect, so long as it fixed Richeh’s sleeve problem long enough to last the day.
He’d make new costumes next year, anyway.
He’d make new costumes, at the earliest of hours, on the smallest amount of sleep, for as many years as they asked. Especially if it meant he got to see their girls’ faces light up with excitement like this again.
As he watched Richeh bounce away to join the other girls, he felt his chest swell with something he found difficult to name. It overwhelmed him, made a grin split his cheeks.
Whatever it was, he simply hoped the girls had a happy Halloween.