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Ever since joining the Knights Moralis, Agott's time is (un)evenly distributed between work, magic practice and physical training. A never ending cycle of repetition. She hardly complains, though; being kept busy has the fine perk of taking her mind off things. Even her insomnia has improved the past year; nowadays, Agott falls asleep the second her head hits the pillow and is rarely tormented by nightmares.
Despite what she was expecting, she still has some free time. Every second Wednesday of the month is off, and usually, Agott spends it alone in her residence in the Great Hall. Despite often having to reassure her superiors that yes, she's aware that she needs to take care of herself in order to be able bring her greatest potential to the field, she more often than not ends up working on her days off as well.
It's not as if she didn't take her duties seriously, no. Only, she has no idea what else she could be doing with her time. And as long as her performance doesn't suffer, well, her superiors don't need to know about everything.
(Not about her regular visits at the Medical Spire, not about her private investigation of a certain witch group.)
Agott thinks this arrangement suits her quite well. Still, when a letter is delivered to her in the midst of a busy day, she pries it open with her heart drumming anxiously in her chest.
Its contents are short, but warm. A heartfelt invitation to lunch, from Professor Qifrey, written by Professor Olruggio. Agott immediately writes a response, straightforward and brief but not impolite: "I will be there. Thank you for the invitation, Professors." For some reason, she thinks about writing "Thank you for thinking of me," but she rejects it before her pen could soil the parchment. To appear vulnerable is the last thing you need, she chastises herself, even as her heart aches at the memory of the time past when she could call her Professors her confidantes.
She isn't a child anymore, hasn't been one in a long time, and she fancies herself stronger than to needlessly burden her Professors. Agott has everything under control, as usual, she reminds herself. Age, perhaps, has made her a little sentimental.
Upon returning to her room, she immediately marks the next Wednesday on her calendar with bright blue ink. If she checks whether it's still there every night before bed until the day rolls around, well, there is no one around to shake their head at her, and for the first time in a while, Agott awaits her day off with anticipation.
Reunions are meant to be bittersweet, someone told Agott once. Something about rejoicing at seeing an old friend mixed with the woe at the time spent apart and how it changed them.
And time has passed.
It has put extra inches to Tetia so when she hurries to hug her in greeting she looms over her, it has made Riche's gaze sharp and assessing where it always seemed distant and soft. It is there in the number of wrinkles around her Professors' mouths, the gray hairs mixed into Professor Olruggio's fringe and beard, the defined crow's feet around Professor Qifrey's visible eye, now forever unfocused.
(He doesn't act much different, now that he's blind. His smile and gaze are gentle as ever, turning to them with unlimited patience as if they were still children. He gestures and drinks his tea in the same elegant manner, and never complains. And if Agott catches him reaching out to Professor Olruggio on occasion to steady himself, she sees no need to mention it.)
They exchanged letters, of course, when they had the time or a story to tell, and Agott runs into Riche semi-regularly when her work takes her to Kalhn. Where else could she refill her supplies than in the greatest magic shop in the entire Peninsula?
But there are things that don't fit into the limited spaces of letters. New faces are one of them.
"Now that we're all here," Tetia begins before she takes her seat by the round table of their group, seated outside of the inn. Her voice is joyous, face reddened in blotches with excitement. "I'm very excited to introduce my very first and the sweetest disciple in the world, Burto!" A child steps forward from behind her skirt and bows to them, a nervous smile on his lips.
"Professor Tetia has told me many stories about you," he says courteously, voice thin. "It's an honor to finally meet all of you."
Everyone is immediately taken to the boy; he's bright-eyed, his hair a flaming red. The double ended pointed hat on the top of his head is a smaller version of Tetia's signature hat, and the two of them are like an older sister and her little brother. Professor Qifrey, especially, seems to be moved to tears as he shakes the small hand of his disciple's first disciple.
Witches that have passed the Fifth Test usually teach more than one generation of witchlings, but Qifrey, after losing his eyesight, wasn't suited to the role anymore, thus making Agott and her sister-disciples the last of his pupils. Everyone thought it was unfair; but there was nothing to be done. Nowadays his Atelier only houses him and Olruggio, an Ex-Professor and his Watchful Eye.
Agott hopes desperately they are never lonely. She hopes desperately, even as her residence in the Great Hall seems more isolated in her mind than Professor Qifrey's Atelier could ever possibly be.
Still, their lunch-date is scheduled in a nameless town in a nameless inn, not in the Atelier. A neutral ground, where no unpleasant memories can be possibly brought up by the familiar scene, so the absence of one isn't as sharp.
(To Agott, it's sharp, like the edge of a knife glinting in a dark alleyway. An Unknowing thief has once twisted it in her gut when she was turned away, back when she first became a member of the Knights Moralis. She awoke in a hospital much later, her wound magically absent. No one could describe the woman who brought her in. Her face was concealed by a mask, they said.)
They chat while they eat. Tetia talks about her teaching plan, and asks for advice. Riche brags about the popularity of her shop, and Professor Olruggio shows them his latest inventions. Professor Qifrey, for the most part, just listens to them with a smile and provides gentle commentary, and Agott answers questions about her everyday life in the Knights Moralis in a briefer manner than which could encourage more questions.
More than once Agott catches the worried glances Professor Qifrey directs in her direction, the assessing looks of Professor Olruggio, the contemplating gazes of her sister-disciples. None of them burn as sharply as the gaze of the stranger from the other side of the street, thinking themselves subtle in their observation. During the meeting, Agott never once mentions it, never once gives it away that she has noticed it, but her attention is torn in half.
She is equally annoyed and set on edge by it.
When each of their plates are empty save for a few morsels, they say their goodbyes. Riche needs to take stock of her shop's inventory before she opens tomorrow, Tetia's disciple Burto still has lessons to complete today. Professor Qifrey and Olruggio are visiting a town together later at a request, and Agott, when asked, tells them she has errands to run as well. It's a polite lie.
Thus, they say their goodbyes. Riche and Tetia leave first to catch their Winged Chariot, but before Agott could take her leave she is stopped by Professor Qifrey placing a hand on her shoulder.
"Agott," he says, Professor Olruggio a steady (if shorter) presence behind him. "Could I trouble you for a moment longer?"
Agott has strong suspicions about what they're going to say, and she's equally filled with warmth and apprehension at it. She says, "Of course, Professor," and doesn't let her face twist into a grimace. The gaze of the stranger is gone from her, and they could be getting farther and farther away while she's being held up.
"I don't want to hold you up," Qifrey gently tells her, as if he could read her mind. "I just wanted to remind you that you're welcome to write to us about anything."
"Tetia's letters are always overly long and detailed," Olruggio adds. "I'm sure you kids could find a balance somewhere in-between."
"That must be… Riche then?" Agott tries, somewhat uncomfortable with the conversation.
"You'd be surprised," Qifrey says with a smile. "She won't send a letter months at a time then we're suddenly delivered a fifteen page rant. It's quite…"
"Riche-like," Olruggio finishes with a grin.
"I never go so long without writing a letter, do I?" Agott asks. She thought the length she provided was alright as well. She always made sure to add a short commentary about her everyday life, then inquire about her Professors'. She thought she was being quite diligent, as an Arkrome ought to be.
(She almost physically recoils at the unconscious thought. Even years after giving up on becoming a Librarian, years after giving up on the family that saw her as nothing more than a stain on their name, their ideas still haunt her. Blood doesn't become water, they say.)
"Yes, of course, you write often," Qifrey reassures. "Although I hope I don't have to tell you that you shall write when you feel like to, it doesn't matter whether it's done often or rarely. Also, I would love it if you could include a little bit more about yourself."
"I do write about myself," Agott insists. It doesn't feel like a lie at all.
"I enjoy your letters detailing your work," Qifrey says. "I never thought the Knights Moralis' life could be so interesting. In the past, I never did get well on them," Olruggio snorts here, which Qifrey pointedly ignores, "but you opened my eyes up to more of their values."
"But?" Agott urges.
"But work is not the same as personal life," Qifrey finishes. When Agott doesn't answer immediately, Qifrey hurries to add: "I don't mean to criticize you, Agott. The only thing I want to remind you of is that I, we care. Even if it's something seemingly mundane, like what kind of tea you enjoy these days or how you feel, we'd love to hear all of it."
How I feel, Agott repeats to herself. It is quite obvious to everyone who sees her how she feels, then.
"You seemed a bit spacey today," Olruggio says then, arms crossed before his chest. "We just hope everything is okay. I always told you kids to never overwork yourselves… You can confide in us, okay?"
Gradually, Agott's annoyance melts away at their concern. She feels quite powerless, when faced with the brilliant witches she had the fortune of calling her Professors.
"Okay… Thank you. I'll keep that in mind," Agott says, lips pursed. Olruggio pats her back, and it is only then that Agott notices that they're the same height now. Qifrey smiles at them.
"Good," he says. "Then we won't be holding you up anymore. Make sure to rest today, alright?"
"Alright, Professor."
Qifrey chuckles, and intertwines his hand with Orluggio's. "Not a Professor, anymore, Agott," to which Olruggio adds,
"And I never was, but you still called me however you liked to, didn't you?" and Agott can't help but smile. Some things don't change.
She watches their departing backs for as long as they're visible in the distance, then she adjusts her cloak, straightens her hat, takes off into the direction where the stranger has disappeared to.
She doesn't expect to find them, but she does.
She's in a small crowd of people observing the food stalls of the street square with seemingly innocent curiosity. She has a forgettable face littered with golden freckles, long, wavy blond hair, the plain attire of an Unknowing. She doesn't even wear a hat. But when she raises her head, bright gold eyes trail up to meet Agott's gaze.
It's like being doused in freezing cold water. But Agott only sets her jaw and walks up to her, clenched fists hidden under the purple fabric of her cloak.
The woman, at first, doesn't acknowledge her, as if their eyes never met in the first place, and just continues browsing the stalls. But soon, Agott gets sick of waiting and she snaps, voice paper-thin;
"If you felt this comfortable spying, you might as well have just walked up to us."
The woman, Coco, laughs. Her voice rings clear and bright, and it sets Agott's nerves on edge with something akin to nervousness. She almost wants to snarl at her, if she wasn't above such a display.
"Why are you laughing," she questions flatly, her tone threatening without her meaning it. Coco finally turns to her.
"It's because you're just like you always were, Agott," she says fondly, her expression of the Coco she used to know edged into every line of this unfamiliar face that she now wears instead of her own, and Agott doesn't know whether to burst into tears or attack her.
Instead, she bites her lip and casts her gaze down. "Where on earth have you been, Coco?"
Coco hums, melodic and lilting. "Walk with me, Agott," she requests then, as if to say the answers aren't suited to the busy streets of the town. Agott's head nods her approval before she could think twice about it. She doesn't have to look up to know there's a smile on Coco's face.
When the Brimmed Cap Witch begins to walk, Agott follows without a word, always a step behind her. They don't speak, but Agott is unable to tear her eyes away from the back of her long lost friend, from the gentle sway of her steps, forever carrying her farther from her.
They walk until the town's houses are nothing more than spots in the distance, its constant buzz of people exchanged with the whistling of the wind, the cobblestone paths with verdant hills, wet earth soft and wilting under their boots.
Coco doesn't once turn around, only occasionally jumps into the air to advance forward, her cloak and hair whipping out behind her. Agott follows. She wonders if Coco's still smiling, whether her heart beats as rabbit quick as hers.
It most likely doesn't.
"We came far enough," Agott eventually says, the edge of her tone lost in the wind. "You don't have to worry about being seen by Unknowings or Witches, whatever it is you wish to do."
"Whatever it is I wish to do?" Coco repeats, finally halting her steps. When she turns around, there's a large distance between them, to Agott, seemingly immense and yawning. She isn't smiling, but her expression is soft and open, almost vulnerable. "You speak as if I mean you harm. I only wish to speak."
"How could I trust you," Agott says slowly, "When you won't even wear your own face?"
Coco laughs. "Fair enough, Agott. So if I reveal my face, you’ll promise you'll listen to me?"
You know I will either way, Agott thinks. You're fully aware of the power you have over me, she thinks, but instead only says, "Go on. I'm waiting."
Coco raises a hand to her face and pulls, and it comes away thin and translucent like spider silk bunched around her fingers. When she blinks open her eyes this time, they aren't the only thing screaming familiarity.
Her features are sharper than they ever were, her mouth thinner and longer, the soft skin of her cheeks sunkissed where it used to be unblemished. Her hair's waves straighten out, its blond color darkens, takes on a greenish undertone, but it whips out behind her with the same length.
Agott can finally look into Coco's face, and her heart twists at the unfamiliarities she finds there, more painful than when she looked into the faces of her Professors and sister-disciples.
Coco has grown up without them.
She trails a hand in her hair, seemingly unabashed under Agott's gaze, and her expression is almost playful as she says; "I quite liked the waves. Did you not?"
"No," Agott says, tightly. She suppresses the urge to reach for her own dark curls, tug on them. "No. What does it matter? You can't even show your own face around people anymore. Are you even happy like this?"
Coco's mouth twists, her gaze hardens. Agott instinctively places a hand on her pocketbook hidden under her cloak, but then Coco bursts out in laughter.
Agott feels equally relieved and unsettled by it. "What are you laughing at again?"
Coco wipes imaginary tears from her eyes as she gazes at her. "It's only that your tone rings hostile, but your words carry concern. Tell me, Agott, are you really curious whether I'm happy or not?"
Agott doesn't answer. She knows she would be unable to fool Coco, and she would rather not fail and lose face. Thus she only sets her jaw and waits.
Coco takes pity on her, and turns away once more as she walks under the shade of a large tree, jutting from the top of the hill like a lone mountain.
"I'm happy, Agott," she says, slowly. "I'm happier than I ever was. Magic is more brilliant than any of us could have ever thought it could be, more powerful than any of us could possibly comprehend. How could I be unhappy, when I'm surrounded by such magic?"
"That magic you speak of," Agott says, "is Forbidden for a reason. You used to be more aware of this than any of us."
Agott doesn't turn back to her. "That is right. I never forgot that, Agott, please don't think that of me. But knowing all that I know, how could I turn my back on people?"
Agott feels her face darken with anger, and she's grateful the other witch can't see her now. "You disappeared for years, Coco. We didn't even know whether you were alive or not. You've cut all of us off. What is that if not turning your back on people?"
"You knew I wasn't dead," Coco says slowly. "I made sure you all knew; I never made a secret of my choices. Of what cause I joined."
"How could we not worry," Agott says, her teeth clenched painfully, "when all of us know you willingly weave War Magic?"
Coco turns to her now, and with a swipe of her hand a black, brimmed hat appears on her head, the golden tassels set on its edge swaying in the wind.
She smiles at Agott. "You call it War Magic and hate every witch who wears a brimmed hat. But tell me, Agott, when was the last time the Brimmed Hats caused mayhem? When was the last time we weaved this War Magic you speak of?" She twirls, and her cloak darkens, golden embroidery appears on its fabric. Agott can't tear her eyes away from her. "Brimmed Hats became nothing else but a symbol of evil, we became the black sheeps of the Magical World, but that's all we are, and we shall carry the cross of prejudice for a little longer. But times are changing, Agott, and the Forbidden Magic all of us fear shall be the key to achieving balance in the world."
Agott knows Coco isn't entirely wrong. Ever since she joined up with the Brimmed Hats, the human experimentations stopped, and the group almost entirely disappeared from the radar of the Pointed Hats. It was as if they never existed in the first place.
But even Agott, who once upon a time would have trusted Coco with her life, can't shake the feeling that it was the calm before the storm. Times are changing, she says.
"If your ways are so benevolent, tell me, Coco: why do you hide from us?"
Coco's smile turns sad, exhausted. Her gaze trails to the crown of the tree rocked by the wind. "The world isn't ready, yet. There's still much knowledge lost. But it won't be this way forever, Agott. I swear to uncover the secrets of this world, so that the Day of The Pact shan't be repeated, so that Magic Wars shan't ever break out again."
"You…" Agott's nails tear into her palms as she clenches her fists. "Do you even listen to yourself, Coco? You wish to put a stop to Magic Wars by uncovering the magic that created them? I– Coco, I feel like I don't even know you anymore. What would your mother say?"
The light dims in Coco's eyes, and for a second, Agott fears she has gone too far. But then Coco only sighs, the sound haggard, as if she were a thousand years old. "My mother was an Unknowing, Agott. You know well that if she was still alive, I couldn't even have this conversation with her. I wouldn't be allowed. What did Unknowings ever know? They – us – we were always kept in the dark without a choice in the matter."
Coco then steps forward, and although there's nothing hostile about her posture or expression, Agott immediately takes a step back.
Coco's gaze is heavy and her voice light as she says, "And what can you say, Agott, as a member of the enforcers of this system? What excuses can you make?"
Agott's brows run together. "I have no excuses. But I have a reason."
Coco tilts her head to the side. "Do enlighten me."
"It's because of you," Agott snaps, her gaze anywhere but on Coco, anywhere but here, where there's a yawning distance and there are too many differences dividing them. "It was always because of you, so I could search for you. I never once erased a witch's or Unknowing's memory, I never once served my superiors or this system." Agott swallows, and she feels tears slip out from the anger. "Oh, Coco," she says, her voice breaking, "I wished you would have told me you weren't on their side either."
Not like that, anyway. Not in a way that matters.
For a while, there's silence between them, and the wind whistles high and sharp like a banshee’s cry, twisting the fabric of their robes.
Then Coco says, "Somewhere I hoped. That you didn't. That you were still truly…”
“I could have never betrayed you like that.” Agott says, and she doesn't mean to press the I. “I was desperate. I didn't know… I wasn't sure how else I could have searched for you without inviting unwanted attention, without causing you trouble. I didn't want anyone else involved either, not when they…'' and she thinks of Richie's flourishing shop, Tetia and her disciple, that little boy, Burto, and her aging professors, Olruggio supporting Qifrey with a steady hand on his back as they walk away.
“When they could move on?” Agott looks up, and finds Coco’s eyes glinting with mirth. It twists his stomach with unease, and she shakes her head with force.
“It's not like that. We all… I can't even tell you how much your parting, your absence has affected all of us, Coco. It changed everything. We grieved and we still grieve for you.”
It's Coco who shakes her head this time, and the crease between her brows is deep. “I never meant to cause pain, and the last thing I want is for all of you to still be in pain because of me. I’d be the happiest if you could move on. It's… Agott, if I could, I’d ask you myself to… forget me.”
“No,” Agott says, voice paper-thin, and her anger bubbles up, fresh and sharp. “No, you don't get to ask that of me. You may come and go freely, but you haven't the right to tell me what to feel.”
“Yes,” Coco says, and still her voice is soft. Malleable. “Yes, you are right, Agott. Forgive me.”
Forgive you. Forgive you, when I couldn't bear to hold anger in my heart for a moment during all these years? Agott bites her lips and does not speak. She cannot.
Coco steps up to her, and Agott doesn't have the energy to retreat, this time. She lets her enter her space, lets her body heat wash over her without touching.
“Agott. You know the reason I was here today, despite not having the right, is because you’re still… all of you are still dear to me. You're everything to me. I wanted to see you."
Agott nods, once, brusquely, as if the words she's hearing weren't ones she dreamed of on nights even the special calming teas didn't work. Her heart is drumming painfully in her ribcage, like a trapped bird. She all but spits her words, her eyes cast towards the ground once more. She can't bear to look at her.
“Coco, come back to us. Come back to me. I can help; you know I can help. Let me help you.”
Coco’s voice is warm like honey. It's pride in her voice, fondness, and Agott's heart twinges. “I know, how could I not? You’re the most brilliant witch I ever had the fortune of meeting. My Agott.” She raises a hand, and Agott does not flinch as she tilts her head up, so that their eyes can meet. Coco cradles her face in a cold palm and strokes a thumb against her cheek, back and forth, and Agott is melting, unraveling at her seams, she's only held together by this merciful touch. Coco tilts her head to the side as she looks at her, golden eyes glinting like many stars. “Agott, please have faith in me for a little longer. The end is near, I can promise you that. In the meantime, will you wait for me?”
“Yes,” she breathes, for this is all she has ever done, and if this is all she is allowed, she will. She will, until she can hunt her down again. “Yes, Coco, I’ll wait. I’ll wait for you, however long you need me to.”
And Coco’s smile, for the very first time, is truly, genuinely bright and profound. Agott is near blinded by its beauty, wants more than anything to carve the sight into her memory so it can never leave her, so she can never feel so empty ever again, and the breath she sucks in is winded.
“Thank you, Agott,” Coco says, and Agott’s eyes flutter shut, as if on her command. Coco’s lips are cold against the thin skin of her eyelid, her breath warm, but a moment later her hand leaves her cheek, and Coco’s reassuring, grounding presence all but disappears. The wind bites sharply at her face.
“Thank you, Coco,” Agott whispers in turn, and when she opens her eyes, the spell is broken; she is once more entirely alone. Only the hill, the tree, and the town in the distance.
“I’ll wait for you.”