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It just had to be water.
It couldn’t have been anywhere else — in tall spires floating in the sky, for example, or buried deep underground where no light could reach.
The Great Hall just had to be underwater.
It’s a cruel joke played at Qifrey’s expense, almost as if fate knew he hates water.
Now, as a treat, he gets to spend every waking moment surrounded by the stuff.
Despite the seals holding the water back, he’s suffocating on it and he gladly finds every opportunity he can to get away from it.
The Argentgard, for example, is where the silverwood trees grow, their branches glistening in the faint blue light that permeates all areas of the Great Hall. Master Beldaruit loves this place and Qifrey’s grateful, because it means they take a lot of their lessons there.
But even the small places Qifrey finds where plants grow, or where light peeks out from above the surface of the water, isn’t enough to keep him from wanting more.
Qifrey rapidly adjusts to living in the Great Hall. He already came in here not quite enjoying the thought of becoming a witch, harboring a past resentment for the one who stole his eye.
…But, he must admit, there’s an allure to it that he likes. The promise of opportunity, a fresh start, and so much knowledge it’s dizzying.
He throws himself into his studies every day. Which is fortunate, because Master Beldaruit isn’t the sort of person who holds his hand through a problem. Qifrey knows he has a lot of catching up to do and if he ever wants to enact his revenge, he’s going to have to be as experienced and knowledgeable as possible.
The first several weeks fly by without much thought. He passes his first test, the consent of the crown, and becomes the first apprentice under the wise in teachings, Master Beldaruit. The other students’ chins wag so hard that it’s a miracle their jaws haven’t fallen off yet. He’s the outsider— he knows that. He’s the quiet, white-haired boy with a missing eye. He’s overheard enough conversations about it exchanged behind his back.
Instead of dwelling on them, though, Qifrey sets his shoulders and keeps going.
It’s shortly after Qifrey passes his first test that he decides to search for the brimmed caps. The first night that Qifrey slips away to the surface, Master Beldaruit catches him.
Qifrey’s standing at the base of the spiraling staircase leading up to his freedom, one hand clasping the seafoam cloak close to his chest with his head tilted skyward. He hears Master Beldaruit before he sees him, materializing in front of him in a whiff of magical smoke.
“Where are you going?” Master Beldaruit asks.
Qifrey’s lips draw into a thin line. “I’m going to search for information about the brimmed caps.”
Beldaruit sighs. “Is there anything I can say to stop you?”
Qifrey shakes his head. There’s no point articulating the convictions they both know to be steadfast.
“Be careful out there.”
Qifrey gives a determined nod, then pulls his hood over his head, sets his jaw in a determined clench, and activates the wind sigil on his sylph shoes to fly toward the exit.
It’s near the end of Qifrey’s first month at his apprenticeship when he meets his first friend.
Qifrey’s in the dining hall, tucked away into his usual corner eating carapace yam dumplings, when a figure approaches and leans over his table.
“Do you mind if I sit next to you?” The voice asks over a chorus of conversations and silverware and scribbling wands.
Qifrey doesn’t bother looking up. “Sure.”
The person sits down and Qifrey resumes his chewing. He pauses when the student next to him has gotten suspiciously quiet and looks up to find them staring at him. The student’s sitting with a hand cupped in his cheek, his hair as black as midnight and eyes blue as the sky.
Qifrey’s brow furrows and he puts down his fork as he swallows.
“You’re nothin’ like what I expected,” the other boy says.
“What?” Qifrey asks.
The stranger leans back in his chair, folding his arms behind his head. “Everyone’s talkin’ about you, you know. I thought I’d come in person just to see what all the hubbub was about, but to be honest, you’re not as scary as you’re made out to be.”
“I’m flattered.” Qifrey’s tone falls just as flat as his mood.
The boy leans forward and extends a hand. “Name’s Olruggio, though you can call me Oru for short.”
Qifrey glances down to the hand that’s offered to him and shakes it. “Qifrey.”
Olruggio breaks into a grin. “For the record, I never believed all those rumors. Just cuz you’re different doesn’t mean you deserve to sit all alone every day. That’s why I wanna be your friend.”
“You don’t have to just because you feel sorry for me.”
“Then how about cuz I want to go up to the surface with you?”
Qifrey’s eye widens and Oru laughs. “Yeah, that’s right, I’ve noticed. But if you let me go with you, then you’ll have someone to watch your back. Campfires always feel warmer with someone by your side, after all.”
“That’s true.”
“Let me come. I promise you won’t regret it.”
“I guess you don’t give me much choice,” Qifrey says, with the hint of a smile at the edge of his lips.
It’s cold and quiet the night Qifrey and Olruggio decide to go up to the surface together for the first time. Oru brings floatglow lamps of his own invention, which light the way for them as they ascend the spiraling staircase.
The wind rushes on the surface and Oru sighs with breathless laughter as he pulls his hood back and gazes up at the stars in the sky.
“It’s gorgeous outside,” he says.
Qifrey just stares, studying the fascination in Oru’s eyes, and wonders if he’s ever felt that same rush of wonder before.
“Have you ever been outside before?” Qifrey asks.
Oru nods. “I actually grew up in Ghodrey. But my knowledge quickly grew outside the scope of what the witches there could teach me, so I moved here to have access to even more experienced teachers.”
Qifrey smiles. “That’s amazing. You must be a prodigy.”
“I wouldn’t go that far.” His eyes turn back upward. “I just wanna learn as much as possible and create anything and everything my heart desires. I think gettin’ some fresh air can’t hurt, either. It inspires new ideas. Why do you go up here? Searching for something?”
Qifrey’s surprised he doesn’t already know. Though maybe Olruggio’s testing him to see if he’ll say it.
“I am searching for something,” Qifrey says. “And I won’t stop until I’ve found it. I’ll traverse every corner of this world, using any means necessary, if it means I can have it back.”
“I love it! It’s great to have something to strive for. Let’s help each other with our goals — I’ll help you find what you’re looking for and you’ll give me plenty of inspiration for new contraptions.”
Qifrey smiles. “Alright, deal.”
Olruggio throws his hand out and smirks. Qifrey meets him in the middle and they shake hands.
Olruggio was right: Campfires are a lot warmer with him at Qifrey’s side. It still takes some time before Qifrey’s developed trust for his charismatic new friend, but Oru is dependable, kind, and friendly. More than any witch Qifrey has ever met.
Qifrey notices that the stares of the other students have changed, though it’s still of the same negative variety as it had been before, if not worse. The outsider who once sat at lunch by himself has befriended the star pupil who has already patented his own contraption at the age of twelve. What must the other students think of such an eclectic pair?
This observation, however, only serves to make Qifrey cherish their friendship even more. What about him has made Oru choose him as his friend? What is so special about Qifrey that he should deserve such attention from someone else? Was it really for something as simple as not wanting Qifrey to be lonely?
It’s as Qifrey is pondering these thoughts one night, sat at a fire across from Oru, that he mutters, “Why did you want to be my friend so badly, anyway?”
Olruggio, who’s seated across from him, lowers the book he’s reading and cocks his head to the side. “Why wouldn’t I wanna be your friend? You’re so smart and motivated and different. And I mean that in a good way. Differences should be celebrated, not discouraged. How are we ever supposed to understand more of the world if we only accept the things that are familiar to us?”
“You have a point,” Qifrey says. “I guess I just got so used to being ostracized because of my… ‘unsavory features,’ I guess.”
Oru scoffs. “If you ask me, they should keep their noses out of your business. It’s not like you’re hurting anybody.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” Qifrey says.
At least for the moment, though his hope is that that will change in the future.
That someone, some day, will hurt. Badly.
“Hey, so… I’ve been wondering. What have you been searching for, anyway?” Oru asks.
Qifrey bites the inside of his mouth. “I’m… I’m looking for the brimmed caps.”
Oru’s jaw clenches. There’s less shock in his eyes than Qifrey had anticipated.
“You already knew, didn’t you?”
“I knew that part, though I kinda struggled to grasp it. It’s different when you say it aloud like that.”
“It definitely is.”
“And they took somethin’ from you?”
Qifrey nods. He reaches for the silver bangs that rest over his right eye and combs through them, revealing the scarred skin underneath.
Oru’s lips curl tightly together. “Those bastards…”
“I know other people think I’m crazy for pursuing them, that it’s a fool’s errand. But I will never, ever forgive them for what they did to me. I won’t stop until I have my eye back.”
“It’s true that it’s dangerous, but it’s righteous, too. The brimmed caps should have to answer for what they did.”
Qifrey nods. “Exactly.”
Oru reaches across the fire for Qifrey’s hand and squeezes it. His skin always runs so warm, like the spells he has such an affinity for.
“I’ll be there for you, no matter what,” Oru says and despite it all, Qifrey believes him.
“So, tomorrow’s the big day.”
Olruggio’s sitting at the end of Qifrey’s bed, twisting a contraption in his hand and holding it up to the ceiling. It glows faintly in his hand. Maybe it’s a smaller version of a floatglow lamp?
“Yes, it is.”
Qifrey’s sitting cross-legged in the center of the bed, filling his palm quire with blank pages. He’s already pre-drawn the usual selection in the back, which only require him to finish the circle to activate the spell.
“What are you gonna do if you don’t find anything?” Oru asks.
Qifrey shakes his head. “That’s not going to happen. I will find something.”
“It’s dangerous to put all your eggs in one basket. What will you do if someone knocks ‘em over?”
Qifrey pauses and looks at Oru, who shoots him a hopeful, slightly smirked, smile.
“I’ll keep searching, just as I was doing before. Every step I take forward is still progress. Once I get into the library, I will finally be able to eliminate it from the list of viable sources of information.”
“And if you find something, you can use it as a lead.”
“Exactly.”
“I know this is kinda out of the blue, but I wanted to ask. Have you ever considered teaching? Y’know, if this whole redemption thing doesn’t pan out.”
“Oru…”
Olruggio smiles. “I know, I’ve been going on and on about it like a repetition seal. But I see the way you approach problems, the way you care for other people. I think you would be good at it.”
“The same could be said of you. You have a brilliant mind. And you love helping people.”
“Oh, but you know my first love is contraptions-making. Though if you were to become a teacher…”
Olruggio side-eyes Qifrey and in return he tilts his head. “What?”
“Nah, nothing. I was just getting silly ideas in my head again.”
Olruggio rises from his spot on the bed and stands. “It’s gettin’ late and we have a big day ahead of us tomorrow. It’s prolly a good idea if we’re well-rested for it.”
As always, Oru’s right. It doesn’t make his leaving any less frustrating, though.
The conversation was keeping Qifrey’s attention directed away from the worst of his worries. So long as Oru keeps talking, the fear of failure is abated.
“…Before I left, though, I wanted to give something to you,” Oru says.
He’s twirling his thumbs now and casting shifting glances toward anything that isn’t Qifrey’s face.
Qifrey grins. “I didn’t know we were exchanging gifts, otherwise I would have brought something.”
“That’s alright,” Oru says.
He pulls the cap from his head and holds it in his hands. His head’s not hiding anything, though, and Qifrey’s eyebrows furrow. “Hold out your hands,” Oru says as he approaches, so he does.
Oru’s hands are gentle on Qifrey’s when he presses the ribbon into his open hand. He feels the light sting from the cold brass cap nestled into his palm and the brush of Oru’s nails against his skin.
The gesture is somehow more intimate than even their evenings huddled over campfires together. Qifrey is sure he already understands the significance of this gesture, but his searching eyes glue themselves to Olruggio’s anyways.
He’s blushing a light pink as he says, “No matter what happens tomorrow, I promise to stay by your side. This symbolizes that promise.”
“Oru,” Qifrey says, because he can’t think of anything else to say.
This feels like something a married couple would do, not two teenage boys who are preparing to get their butts kicked by a water serpent tomorrow. Maybe this is something married witches do — he’d never considered something like this as a tradition before, but it makes sense.
With Oru, he wouldn’t mind if it were.
“Thank you,” Qifrey says as Oru’s hands recede.
Qifrey clasps the ribbon in his hand and pulls the cap from his head. “Then here, let me reciprocate. It wouldn’t be fair to have you walking around without a hat decoration.”
Qifrey plucks the tassel off the top of his hat and hands it to Olruggio, who smiles.
“I’ll treasure it always,” he teases.
“Oh, come now,” Qifrey says and knocks his hand into Oru’s shoulder. Oru crouches to meet Qifrey’s eye level and holds out an open palm.
Without a second thought, Qifrey clasps his hand with Oru’s and smiles.
Oru leans in close, until their foreheads touch from just beneath their clasped hands and Qifrey has nowhere else to look but back into his eyes.
“Like I said. I’ll always be there for you, no matter what.”
“Thank you,” Qifrey says. “Thank you so much.”
Olruggio lets go of his hand first, accentuated just before by a gentle squeeze. Then the pressure is gone altogether and Oru’s already risen to his feet again and backed toward the door.
“G’night, Qifrey. See ya in the morning.”
“Night.”
Qifrey watches as Oru turns to leave the room, his eyes darting back to exchange a glance with Qifrey that transcends words.
The whole time, Qifrey stares at the tassel bobbing on the top of Oru’s cap.
The Tower of Tomes is as large as Qifrey anticipated. Sprawling bookshelves stretch all the way to the ceiling. Some are covered in dust and taller than the spires back in the Great Hall.
Qifrey’s breathless and aching by the time he reaches the front desk and speaks to a librarian. Olruggio hadn’t made it in — it’s Qifrey’s duty, then, to continue this part of the search on his own.
The Tower of Tomes contains a copy of every text known in the world and doesn’t include just bound books. Diaries, records, and even hastily scrawled memos are shelved there.
Few of the writings composed in Thristas had remained — most have carefully been disposed of with magic.
But there was one scrap of paper there, among the piles of thick parchment permeated by the scent of ink and melted candle wax, where Qifrey found the lead he had been searching for.
It’s dark by the time Qifrey visits the library’s windowway and returns to the Great Hall and, subsequently, his room.
The view outside his window is black, bringing forth his well-established hatred of water.
He remembers when he was younger, a naïve child clinging to life at the bottom of a casket slowly filling with water, and hates himself just a little more for bringing his mind back to that place.
When Qifrey encounters Oru again, it’s in the hallways.
Familiar hands grasp for Qifrey’s cloak as he walks down the hall. At first, Qifrey dismisses it as just his imagination. He had been hoping, pretty strongly, to melt into the walls just a second ago, after all.
But then there’s that incessant tug and Qifrey jerks toward the movement, meeting Oru’s bright blue eyes that feel like a wake-up slap to the face.
“You should have told me you were back!” Oru shouts.
Heads turn, Oru’s expression tightens, and Qifrey smiles as he reaches for Oru’s hand.
“I’m sorry. I forgot myself. Is now a good time to talk?”
Olruggio’s mad at him.
But more importantly, more implicitly, he’s worried.
Everything about his posture tells Qifrey so. He only crosses his arms and looks off to the side like that when he knows that looking directly at Qifrey would reveal too much.
They’re outside, sitting in one of the forest clearings they long ago claimed as theirs. A wind blows past, tousling Qifrey’s hair, though Oru remains silent.
He’s waiting for Qifrey to say something first, but Qifrey’s played this game before. Olruggio doesn’t have the patience to wait for him to break the ice. If he has to, he’ll gladly break it himself.
“You’re really gonna make me ask, huh?” Oru asks through a disgruntled sigh. He digs his fingers into the earth and stretches out his legs. He finally looks across the grass at Qifrey. “Did you find anything?”
Qifrey sucks in an even breath.
He’s already run the calculations. He knows exactly what he’s going to say, but he’s still not ready. The words haven’t been recited enough to be fully convincing yet.
He tries anyway.
“No. I didn’t find anything.”
The words roll off his tongue with a detested fluidity. Good job, he thinks. So casual.
“Dammit,” Oru hisses, ramming his fist into the soil. He looks back up at Qifrey. “What do we do now?”
“I’ve been thinking about that,” Qifrey says. “I think that you were right. Master Beldaruit, too. The search has been going on long enough and turned up nothing.”
Oru looks how he feels inside. He keeps going before he loses his nerve.
“I want to pursue teaching. I’m gonna keep going, put all this behind me.”
“Are you serious? What about everything they took from you?”
“I don’t know,” Qifrey says. “All I know is, if I keep going like this, something is going to break, and I won’t let it be me.”
All the tension drops from Olruggio’s shoulders. “I know the search hasn’t been the easiest. And I won’t push the issue if you don’t want to talk about it.” He reaches for the side of his arm and looks at his shoes. “I guess… I’m kinda relieved you’re moving past it, but I have to know for sure that you want that. Are you sure about this?”
Qifrey reaches into the space between them and pulls Oru’s hand into his. He squeezes it. “Yes, I’m sure. I’m stopping my search.”
Oru breathes in time with the rustling of the trees. “If you’re sure.”
Qifrey nods, forcing a smile, and Oru returns one that’s kinder, and sweeter, and more than Qifrey deserves.
That night, Qifrey draws his first memory erasure seal.
He starts out just tracing his finger over the cotton sheets on his bed, the index finger imagined as the long body of a pen with the half-moon of his fingernail as the quill.
His hands shake when he does it.
The Thristas document wasn’t the only thing he had looked at while at the Tower of Tomes, though he was beginning to wish it had been.
This is just his extra layer of security, in case he ever reveals the truth by accident.
Qifrey’s careful when he etches the seal onto his hat. He steadies his hand and draws deliberate strokes, his face so close to the cloth that he could kiss it. He can’t practice this spell a thousand times like he might others, and it must be in a secure place to prevent its discovery.
When it’s finished, he gently covers a bit of fabric over the outer ring and folds the fabric back over it. He closes the closures around it last, returning the larger embroidered piece to its rightful place on his cap.
It’s an easy, methodical process.
The following days are torture on Qifrey’s attention span. Before he left the Tower of Tomes, he had made sure to have the scrap of paper memorized by rote.
Just the mere thought of it is enough to get his blood boiling and his jaw clenched. It’s a miracle he manages to keep any food down with the way the thoughts make his stomach churn.
There’s nothing more frustrating than knowing there’s something he could be doing, like destroying that blasted eye, but not having the resources or technical ability to do it.
Instead, he’s still trapped behind these suffocating walls, returning to the cycle of resentment-fueled scribblings he had indulged in when he first moved into the Great Hall. He tries to assimilate back into his usual day-to-day, but the words taunt him, just as the blue of the ocean bleeds into his consciousness whenever he sees it through a hallway window.
“…And that’s when I realized I didn’t need a sigil of dispersion but a— hey, are you listening?”
Olruggio’s walking beside Qifrey with the usual swagger to his strut, but it doesn’t cheer up Qifrey like it usually would. Instead, Qifrey just hums and tightens his grip on the books pressed against his chest, keeping his mental walls tall and sturdy.
Olruggio jumps a few steps in front of him and backs him into a wall. A hand claps down on the space next to Qifrey’s ear and Qifrey whips his head up to read Oru’s glower.
“What’s up with you? Why are you ignorin’ me?” Oru asks.
Qifrey has to laugh at the look in his eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ignore you, it’s just that my mind’s been occupied recently.”
Oru drops his hand and Qifrey straightens his posture.
“Let me guess, it’s about that,” Oru says.
“Well…” It’s Qifrey’s turn to look askance.
Olruggio shakes his head and looks around the hallway. “What about we talk later, at the usual place?”
“Deal.”
Today, Qifrey leaves lessons early, citing a nasty headache and an observation that he’s already caught up with his primer practice for the day. Master Beldaruit lets him go and there’s an anxious hop in his step when he hurries through the halls and up to the surface.
The sun’s blazing bright yellows and oranges when Qifrey arrives. The promise of incoming night brings a cool breeze and the fresh smell of grass.
Olruggio’s standing just outside, on the crest of a small hill that outlines his figure quite dramatically against the fading light.
“About time you showed up,” Oru says. “Let’s go. I’ve got a place in mind.”
He jumps into the air and knocks his knees and feet together, effectively activating his sylph shoes. Qifrey follows after him, watching the way his cloak billows in the wind. The tassel whips around wildly, still such an unfamiliar sight to Qifrey.
It was just a week ago that the ribbon had still been embedded there, trailing behind Oru like an obedient snake.
Has it really only been seven days since Qifrey’s life changed forever?
Oru stops once they reach a hill overlooking a field. There would probably usually be livestock grazing here, but with the coming of night, it makes sense that they’d be out here alone.
A perfect time to divulge secrets between best friends.
“You know you can tell me anything, right?” Oru asks.
“Of course,” Qifrey says.
“Then why not tell me the truth?”
Qifrey swallows. “What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean.” Oru leans in closer, his eyes narrow, and a hand slaps into the grass. “The search. You’re still going through with it, aren’t you?”
“How did you know?”
Oru scoffs. He lifts a hand and waves the question away dismissively. “Where do I start? Well, for one, I know you better than you know yourself at this point. And when we first met, you told me you’d stop at nothing to get at the brimmed caps. Do you really expect me to believe you’d stop now?”
Qifrey smiles, a small, bitter thing. “You’re too astute for me.”
“What can I say? That’s the kind of friend I am. I’ve gotta look after you, cuz it’s not like I can trust you to do that on your own.”
Qifrey rolls his eyes, although Oru’s right. That’s one of the vexing things about him — he just has to be the voice of reason.
Certainly, if Oru knew the truth, he’d have something to say about it.
“So, out with it. What are you planning to do next?” Oru asks.
Qifrey pulls his arms into his cloak and plays with his fingers; it’s such a childish tick to still have.
“Actually, I did find something at the Tower of Tomes.”
Oru’s eyes widen. “What? Really? What did you find?”
He’s leaned in close again, shuffling across the grass. The sun shifts behind his head, obscuring his face in shadow. The air’s cold enough to make Qifrey’s ears burn.
“I learned that I was used as a test subject for a new type of forbidden spell.”
Qifrey talks slowly, each syllable methodical as it cuts through the darkening atmosphere.
Olruggio’s mouth opens, but no words come out.
Qifrey’s hands slip back out from beneath his cloak to clutch at his shoulders. “It’s disgusting, Oru! What lengths they’re willing to go to — what they’re doing — it’s reprehensible. I need to find and destroy the eye at all costs.”
“But then, that means they’re not pursuing old magic but looking to make their own?”
“Yes.”
“We have to stop them! Who knows what else they’re planning to do!”
“There’s one problem with that,” Qifrey says.
Oru’s eyebrows knit together. “What do you mean?”
“I have to do this on my own. I can’t get you wrapped up in all of this.”
Olruggio scoffs. “You say that, after everything we’ve been through! You can’t get rid of me so easily.”
Qifrey sets his jaw and shakes his head. “You’re too good for this, too kind. You're not like me.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’re right, Oru. I’d be willing to do anything to get at the brimmed caps. I’m willing to be as heartless as I need to be, to tear myself apart if it means they’ll be waiting for me at the end of it. You don’t deserve that — I refuse to drag you down with me.”
Qifrey pulls the hat from his head. Shaking fingers clutch at the clasp and twist it open.
“You’re not a bad person, Qifrey. And who the Hell are you to tell me how good I am? What if I want to help you anyway?”
“I won’t let you,” Qifrey says.
He lifts the hat and leans closer. Oru’s eyes dart to it, for the first time registering the sigil etched onto the crown.
“What are you doing?!” Olruggio shouts.
He pushes Qifrey onto his side and the hat tumbles from his hands.
“I have to do this!” Qifrey shouts. He reaches for the hat again, dragging it toward himself. “There’s nothing else I can do!”
“You can let me help you!”
Oru’s shouting now and his eyes well up with tears as he reaches for Qifrey’s hands and pin him to the grass. Qifrey’s flat on his back, Oru hovering over him. A navy-colored blanket of stars has started to unfurl behind his head.
Qifrey’s frozen. His heart thuds unevenly, blood rushing to his ears, as Oru’s fingers slip over his. Oru’s palms are sticky with sweat.
“Stop thinking you have to solve every problem by yourself. I’m right here, you big idiot!”
“This is too deep. I’d never forgive myself if something happened to you.”
“I can make my own decisions.”
Qifrey’s not sure whether Olruggio’s resigned himself to the truth or if there’s still a glimmer of rebellion in his eyes, because all he really sees are tears.
He only knows that when he slides his hand from Olruggio’s grip to nestle against the side of his face, curving to fit his cheek, Oru closes his eyes.
He only knows that they’re both crying and that he’d never expected their first kiss to feel so sorrowful.
When Oru opens his eyes again, Qifrey has pulled his hat close to his chest and flicked away the last fabric obscuring the complete sigil.
“Please, don’t do this,” Olruggio whispers. “There’s still so much we have to talk about.”
Olruggio wraps his arms around Qifrey and pulls him into a hug. Qifrey lifts his hat up and finally knocks Oru’s off his head.
When Olruggio goes limp in Qifrey’s arms, his nose burns and hot tears spill down his cheeks. He pulls Olruggio in close, taking in his smell, his warmth. He cries into Oru’s cloak and tries to calm his breathing, though the panic doesn’t settle for several minutes.
When Qifrey finally regains his breath, he closes his eyes and listens to the rustle of grass. His heart’s still stuttering by the time he pulls Olruggio off him to lay him at his side instead.
Qifrey had been afraid that the seal wouldn’t work but been twice as afraid that it would. Olruggio’s breaths are steady. It would be so easy to pretend that he was just sleeping this whole time.
Qifrey stages Oru’s posture a little. Just enough that he won’t wonder where his hat went when he wakes.
Then he erases the seal from his hat, puts it back on his head, and tries to sleep beside him.
After an hour or two have passed, Oru will shake Qifrey awake with a puzzled look on his face. Qifrey will be sickly proud of the sheepish gesture he manages to pull off and that pride will melt into shame and guilt at the night he wishes to wash from the record of his life forever.
Many years later…
Olruggio knows they were talking about something important, but he can’t remember exactly what.
There was a time many, many years ago, shortly after Qifrey completed the Query of the Qui Vive and the librarian’s trial, that Olruggio felt this same tightness in his chest. He remembers there being stars then too, and Qifrey seated next to him in the rustling grass.
When Olruggio looks up at the stars now and hears the girls with their exuberant gasps, he feels like a part of him is reaching out to him from the empty expanse of the galaxies, shouting at him to search for words he doesn’t have.
He thinks, for an ignorant second, that it must just be the grogginess from just waking up.
But then he sees Qifrey’s eyes and the guilt-stricken twist of his lips, and a stone of nerves settles at the bottom of Olruggio’s stomach.
It’s not until much later, until the girls have all gone off to their own rooms and Qifrey’s cleaning up after dinner, that Olruggio slips into the dining room with a warmed complexion slightly to do with the fireplace but mostly from the drink.
Olruggio leans against the doorframe and crosses his arms. “Is there somethin’ you’re not tellin’ me?”
Qifrey has his back turned to Olruggio and pauses whatever he’s doing when he hears Olruggio’s voice. Clever man knows not to turn around, because Olruggio can read his expression like a pro.
“Whatever do you mean?” Qifrey asks.
“You’re always makin’ me be the one to push the issue,” Olruggio says. “For once I’m not gonna say it. Either tell me, or don’t. But don’t make me be the one to say it first.”
“I really don’t have much to tell you,” Qifrey says.
“Then you just randomly decided to pick up the search again.”
“Oru…”
There he goes, using that old nickname that he knows is gonna make Olruggio go all red in the ears.
“If there were somethin’ goin’ on, you would tell me, wouldn’t you?” Olruggio asks. “It’s not easy for me to follow you if I don’t know where you’re going.”
“I know, I know,” Qifrey says. He finally turns around and Olruggio almost can’t bear to see the look on his face. He approaches and squeezes Olruggio’s shoulder. “C’mon, we should head to bed for the night. It’s getting late.”
“You’re right,” Olruggio says. He shrugs Qifrey’s touch away and slinks toward his room.
Qifrey doesn’t stop him and he thinks he knows why.
Somewhere deep down, a part of Olruggio thinks he knows what happened.
It’s the same part of him that had been shouting at him a week after Qifrey returned from the librarian’s trial empty-handed.
Something happened. Maybe Qifrey had never stopped his search.
The thoughts are a poison to Olruggio’s mind. He’s always been so blindly trusting, putting his full faith behind the best friend he had made a promise with long ago.
When Olruggio crawls into bed that night, his head’s heavy with thoughts and a sense of dread that no amount of drink could ever overcome. Doubt creeps in where loyalty once stood unchallenged and he just can’t shake the feeling that there’s something Qifrey isn’t telling him.
That beneath the face Qifrey shows to the girls, there’s still a kid plagued by traumas that follow him like an elongated shadow.
Olruggio hopes that, one day, his flame will be strong enough to burn that all away and leave nothing but the Qifrey he knew behind.