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The thin film of rainwater stretching from the ground, flimsy and barely above his height, is higher of a threshold than he has ever crossed.
Higher yet is the invisible wall between him and Qifrey as he halts and turns, dauntingly so; built slowly over the long years and emphasised now by Qifrey's magic, for all that it doesn't create a physical divide between them.
(When had it even started? Time blurred together all lines into incomprehension.)
Only one condition had he ever laid down before, a line firmly drawn in the sand – that Brimhats and apprentices won't be intertwined. And yet perilous waves have swept even that away – Qifrey has made his decision known, has laid out the answer by his feet for him to see. The only thing left now is his response: to leave or to let go, and leaving is without doubt a point of no return.
He releases the girl's hand.
“You would turn your magic against me?” he cannot help but ask as he thinks without believing, that perhaps the words from their past may no longer hold true. The very idea of it is repulsive, unimaginable.
(Qifrey doesn't reply, but sometimes silence is answer enough.)
Water distorts the sight of the grey skies above him as he splashes and struggles; his last view a surging column carrying him away from the shore in its immensity, knocking his breath away with the first impact.
Olruggio gasped as he breached past the surface, greedy for air even as he coughed and sputtered while he sat up, saltwater running down his face in rivulets.
A splash, wet clothes swishing against the waves, and a constant string of apologies – through stinging eyes, he saw Qifrey waddling towards him. It must have been a matter of seconds, between him going under and Qifrey following.
That didn't stop Qifrey from looking guilty as heck, though. “I'm so sorry-” and “-didn’t mean to make it so-” he could catch as Qifrey drew closer, kneeling lower into the water. However, being busy coughing your lungs out made reassuring your friend rather hard.
“I'm fine, I'm fine,” Olruggio choked out the second he could, making Qifrey sigh in relief.
“The spell wasn't meant to hit you,” he desperately explained, grabbing Olruggio by the shoulders. “It wasn't meant to be this large – a column was drawn too long, I didn't know the keystone was so distorted – ”
“I know, I know – ”
“Maybe we shouldn't do this anymore.”
“What? Qifrey, no, it isn't that big of a deal!”
Really, the waves just barely grazed his shoulders at their crests with him sitting up, spraying salty seafoam at his face. It made all his previous panicking rather embarrassing, even if the water column had disoriented him. Though, technically it was the water column that had first made him panic – whatever. Compared to…
“I don't want to hurt you,” Qifrey whispered, his face utterly wretched.
Compared to the way Qifrey tensed every time the waves pushed and pulled at his figure, this was nothing.
“Good thing you didn't hurt me then,” Olruggio said, making Qifrey finally face him. “Except for my pride, maybe.” They shared matching grins at the words.
And his tastebuds, really – while he wouldn't ever have been at this huge a disadvantage if they hadn't fought right next to the bloody ocean, Olruggio could understand that they would have to fight the monsters in the lake to reach the Tower and suck up the loss – but did the sea really have to be this salty?And wait, the gravelly sensation whenever he moved his mouth, was it sand?
Olruggio experimentally shifted his tongue a bit, and - Ew, ew, this definitely was sand. He gagged.
“Are you… alright?” Qifrey asked, brow raised at his friend inexplicably hacking away like a cat trying to spit out a furball (and doing a rather shoddy job at it).
Olruggio mutely threw a miserable thumbs up sign. “If you think so,” Qifrey shrugged. “Let’s get your hat back then.”
“Let's get you out of the ocean,” Olruggio replied as Qifrey went after his hat, a dark shape against the murky waters, floating at the whims of the waves.
Olruggio's shoes squelched horribly under his weight as he got up, water dribbling down his clothes in buckets. Then, exposed to the air – the intensity of the cold truly hit him, as he instantly shuddered at the bite of frigid coastal winds into his soaked figure.
“Let's get you out of the ocean,” said Qifrey, handing over the hat, its ribbon still tapering into the waters below.
“D-don't,” Olruggio chattered, protesting as Qifrey looped an arm around him. “Y-you will get c-c-cold as well.”
“Then we'll be cold together.”
Olruggio was in no mood to argue any further. “Fine,” he relented. “If you say so. Tell me you've got my r-rings at least.” All his supplies had now been rendered useless.
“They should be in the rucksack.”
And so they made their way back to the shore with squishing footsteps and dragging feet, chattering teeth and goosebumps invisible beneath long sleeves – caused by the cold, and in Qifrey's case, revulsion as well.
The place where they had dropped the bag was blessedly dry, and they collapsed next to it in relief. Sand clung to their wet clothes in multitudes of clumps – it was going to be hell getting all of it out, wasn't it? And the palm quire Qifrey had dropped was visible from here, much closer to the swelling waves, but – later. They would deal with all that later.
While Qifrey dug into their supplies, a task better left to drier hands, Olruggio spent the time to think.
“Accidents aside, the spell was pretty good,” he told Qifrey. “It was very forceful, and disorienting – I don't see why it won't work.”
“Against the guardians, you mean?” Qifrey asked. “They live in the water and splash up jets of it all the time, I doubt it would affect them... Unless...” he drifted off, mumbling, “unless the column was to be much larger than they are, and that column's distraction enough…”
“...Or if it was to be scalding hot…”
Qifrey paused his search, looking up with stars in his eye at the whispered suggestion. “Oru, you genius! That could work!”
“Heh!” Olruggio smirked. “I have my moments, I suppose! Trust me, we're gonna knock those malformed monsters right outta the way, and get all the answers you need, once n’ for all!” he declared, full of a bravado that he didn't necessarily feel, chin raised in triumph. Such was the hopefulness of their youth.
And then – he sneezed. Over and over again. Enough to send his hat tumbling right off his lap – hadn't enough of his clothing been covered in sand already?
Qifrey snickered while Olruggio swatted his hat clean, but even that joy soon turned melancholic. He squeezed some unfortunate pouch in his hands, gaze downcast, ashamed. “That might be true but... Monsters aside, I never want to see you knocked away like that ever again. Not for me, and especially not by my magic.”
“Well, in that case…” Olruggio grabbed the hat at both tip and hem, and wrung it – the moisture had made it lose all of its sturdiness. Water drops escaped the fabric in drizzles. “It's great that it won't be happenin' again, then.”
“Huh?”
“Come on, this was just a fluke. I already know there's no way you would ever turn your magic against me, not on purpose.”
It was easy enough to shake the hat back into shape.
For a fleeting moment, Qifrey just stared at him, gaping and speechless, before looking away, blushing to the tips of his ears, face buried back into the sack.
"Never," he whispered in return – a promise, voice so quiet that the wind almost carried it away.
Olruggio grinned, ear to ear, knowing in his heart that their words were true.
He never does believe otherwise, in the end – perhaps that was the mistake all along.
Because later, when the brim obscures everything – the starlit sky above them, the desperate expression on a friend's face, his own protests – all of it, for only the briefest of moments, he knows.
Then, the magic digs its claws in – and once more, he doesn't.