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Embers licked at aged cinder blocks, each spark illuminating the dark living room. The lingering smell of parchment, silverwood ink embedded into the surrounding linens and rugs spread across the room, emboldened by the half complete spells, stationary and ink bottles littered on miniature oak work spaces pushed against the wall.
Olruggio yawned as he stretched across the long sofa, joints popping in time with the crackle of the dying fire in front of him. Blinking away sleep, he began to slowly get up, disturbing the brush buddy perched on his chest, moving the small, disgruntled creature onto the floor as he moved onto his side. Olruggio sighed as he watched rain gently tap against the glass panels of the windows of the living room, the only sign of the outside world in the darkness beyond the window. He must have fallen asleep while observing Qifrey’s lesson during the afternoon; a common occurrence with increasing commissions from other witches, leading to more sleepless nights. That, and the sofa, had unofficially become his bed within the main atelier, Olruggio pushed himself up, hands catching in the new patchwork quilt made by the apprentices under the guidance of Coco, the resident seamstress. He smiled as he looked towards the quilt, an expression of each of the girls under his friend’s care; they must have draped it on him when he was well and truly gone and passed into the land of dreamless sleep.
“If you keep this up my friend, you’ll never once wake in the daytime,” Olruggio cocked his head back, watching as Qifrey slowly walked down the stairs, chuckling as he used his thin hand to brace his descent from the apprentices and his dormitories. “At this point, you may as well live within the atelier.” His spectacle glimmered in the firelight, in a way that highlighted the long lashes behind them.
Olruggio grumbled, arms reaching back to stretch sleeping muscles, “A'ight, I hear you… The work is just gruelling- it takes it right out of you.” He turned in his spot to watch Qifrey make his way to the kitchen. Considering the weather and how late it must be, Olruggio didn’t see it fit to comment on a midnight snack, ignoring the many he had taken himself, and in the accompaniment of a friend. Qifrey hummed in response, making his way towards the small food pantry, his slow movements accompanied by gentle rustling of his woven smoke coloured skirt. Olruggio watched on, moving to sit on his knees, running a hand through his hair, catching on knots formed in his unplanned nap. He grimaced, thick strands of hair catching on the writing callouses and blisters formed from a myriad of burns, before quickly running both hands through his hair, if not to improve the bird nest that was his hair, but to relieve his scalp of the tension of the never ending commissions, late nights and other problems that plagued him from his youth.
Soft steps of leather on wood brought Olruggio out of his thoughts, he looked up, faced with Qifrey, softly illuminated by the dying fire, which danced across his features and soft pearlescent curls. A breath hitched in Olruggio’s throat, it was as if time paused as a soft tingling spread from his lungs to his navel, paralysing the warm witch, who remained sat on his knees.
“Would you join me tonight Olly? I doubt you’ve had the chance to eat since this morning.” Qifrey raised an eyebrow at Olruggio, in one hand, a large plate with what seemed to be left overs and other snacks, and the other, a bottle carved out of honey tree wood, two metal cups stacked over the neck of the bottle. He smiled as Olruggio jumped back, startled out the witch out of his trance and back into the normal time flow, huffing as he somewhat laid back on the sofa.
Olruggio shuffled to make space on the sofa for his fellow witch, he patted at the space to the right of him, “ ‘Course, not like I’d say no.” Taking the plate from Qifrey’s hand, gently placing it on his lap. He looked at the contents of the plate, taking what seemed to be steamed horncap mushroom tops, filled with seasoned vegetables and topped with a thin layer of cheese and dried herbs. Olruggio hummed, placing the plate on his lap, taking one of the filled mushrooms and taking a bite, “Oh-ho, Qifrey this is wonderful, nicely spiced.” He nodded, speaking mid bite, Qifrey gave an amused huff as he in turn took a filled mushroom and took a small bite.
“The girls quite enjoyed being able to steam and fill their own horncap mushrooms,” Qifrey mused, as he stared towards the abyss beyond the panelled window, “Though, they may have decimated through our cheese supply. I think we’ll need to seek out a trading post sooner than planned.” He chuckled, taking a bite of a filled horncap covered in a myriad of spices the apprentices would never try, however, tonight was not a night to play strong against his many aversions, there were many things that made the present more comfortable, never safe, but an eerie sense of comfort.
A gentle jab to Qifry’s side pulled him out of his thoughts, Olruggio tilted his head gently, eyebrows raised, “I can hear your thoughts out ‘ere," The fire witch quickly stuffed the rest of the filled horncap mushroom into his mouth, before moving the quilt, which had fallen to the floor at some point, to cover both of their laps. "I know nights like this aren't the best for you," he nodded to the wine, "but if you wanted to talk 'bout it, you know I'm here for you." Olruggio gave a soft smile, as he lounged back into the arm of the sofa. He was always the one to bear his heart and soul between the two of them, a trait that had earned the ire of the smoke washed witch in their youth. Nonetheless, the couple decades the two had known each other, Olruggio knew that Qifrey took longer to accept the help around him when it came to matters of the mind and soul; no matter how well versed the Professor was at giving such advice to their apprentices.
Olruggio waited patiently, wringing his hands, knuckles cracking in tandem under the gentle pressure. Qifrey's head seemed to drop slightly, as if he were subject to an internal debate of mind and soul, under the gentle scrutiny of the Witch of the Torch. His mouth opened and closed, as if he were trying to form the correct words, or silently gasping for small pockets of air. This carried on for a minute or so, Qifrey tried to form words on the tip of his tongue, before conceding his own inherent nature, shaking his head, snow coloured locks covering the expression of the emotionally gaunt witch.
Pale, thin hands reached out for the carved wine bottle, placing the metal cups in the gap between the two of them. Qifrey shook his head, fingers fumbling with the intricate latch. "I-", he stuttered, sighing, "Not tonight, I'm not sure if I'll ever be able to confess, my friend." He spoke in a small voice, barely above a whisper. A set of rough hands reached out, interlocking with Qifrey's own fingers around the neck of the bottle.
"Let me." Olruggio's fingers pushed up, leveraging Qifrey's to pop the latch of the wine bottle.
Qifrey's eye widened, breath caught at the back of his throat as his gaze shot to the other witch. "Ah- You didn't have to do that Olly." A gentle flush tickled at the base of his neck.
"Mhm," Olruggio detached his fingers gently, moving to grasp the metal cup, lifting it to silently ask for a generous pour, "I think we should invest in easier to open bottles," he ran his free hand through messy onyx bangs, "lets us get pissed quicker, no?" Olruggio snorted, a wry smile gracing his features.
The other witch huffed, rolling his eye as he tapped the neck of the bottle on the rim of the cup, before gently pouring fragrant rose coloured wine. "I think liquor is the true way into your heart."
Olruggio raised his eyebrows at him, bringing up the metal cup to his lips before slowly taking a drag of the mulled wine, as if to say 'So? Not like you're complaining'. The fire witch closed his eyes for a moment, savouring the gently spiced wine. On dreary nights like these, a drink that warms the soul and soothes the mind was the light in the darkness of adulthood. An era filled with endless work, investigations and other misfortunes. Olruggio had come to treasure small, quiet, intimate moments like these; it only took a sharp cold spell, and inadequacy of ones own abilities for the allure of tranquil life to be ripped away from ones self.
He took a large swig, draining the cup before letting his head fall back against the back of the sofa, "'s been a long day." He sighed as he turned to look at Qifrey, his profile illuminated by the soft glow of the fireplace, its embers flickering into the ether. Unlike Olruggio, Qifrey nursed his cup near his lips, both hands wrapped around the base of the cup, as if taking, slow calculated, ceremonial sips.
Qifrey hummed in response, taking a longer sip before setting the cup in his lap. Like Olruggio, he let his head fall back, turning ever so slightly to meet the other's gaze. His cheeks seemed to be dusted with a faint flush, the notion could even be misconstrued as tricks of the dying fire. "Well you were asleep for most of our day Olly." Qifrey gave a lop-sided smile, eye closing for a moment before reaching out for the wine bottle once again.
"Aye- but I work like a dog these days, I get no respite, day or night," Olruggio huffed as he raised his cup ever so slightly, the other filling it wordlessly, "You'd think people would have learnt not to suggest precarious projects with tight deadlines." He grumbled, sipping at his wine.
Fire wood crackled as the little light it had been projecting dimmed, illuminating only the rugs near the fireplace. Qifrey sat up straighter, pushing his spectacle up closer to his face. "Ah, it seems the fire extinguished itself." He chuckled, gaze moving from the witch whom he had held in adoration, or even reverence, towards the centre piece of the living room.
Olruggio hummed, moving to place his cup on the floor near him, before moving to reach across the sofa, reaching across the other witch and wine bottle. Qifrey froze beneath him, breath audibly hitching, as if trapped between his ribs. "Apologies." Olruggio mumbled, one hand grasping at his satchel of equipment in the darkness, the other steadying himself on the back of the sofa, near the other's head. After a moment of fumbling, he pulled back, satchel in hand, landing on the arm of the sofa with a soft thud. Olruggio shuffled into a comfortable position, taking out his ink wand and palm quire. He looked towards the other in the darkness, thinking for a moment before a small smile graced his face.
In the darkness, the fire witch drew an array of decorative sigils with practised precision, a flower sigil, with light sigils at each intersection of the pentagon, in which lay a miniature, but intricate sigil of a dragon, in which another light sigil sat on it's tail. With a flick of his wrist, Olruggio drew the final circle around the sigil array, iridescent sparks lighted the air between the two of them, in which a small lotus flower sat on the surface at the quire, illuminating the small space between them. He took Qifrey's hand, laying the palm quire in his hand, his gaze moved from the quire to the other's expression. He watched as Qifrey lifted the quire, with such tender affection and care, as if the timeworn quire were a prized treasure for their eyes only. Qifrey raised an eyebrow as the petals of the incandescent lotus flower jostled, blooming to reveal a small luminous dragon, it's button eyes peering at the witch holding it's home. Olruggio watched as Qifrey's eye widened, an innocent, child-like joy spread to all his features.
"Olly," Qifrey gasped, a flush painted over his cheeks, the small dragon moving up his arm and settling on his left shoulder, "A dragon! My friend, you never cease to amaze me."
Olruggio, lounging back into the sofa, chuckling as he watched the other gently coo at the miniature dragon. "It's a wee thing, but it should help us with the light situation."
Qifrey nodded, moving the creature from his shoulder to his lap, the light emitted by the doe eyed dragon caught on the intricate lines etched on his spectacle, as if framing the icy azure of his iris. "You should draw one for each of the girls, I know they would love to hold something as adorable as this little creature."
Olruggio thought for a moment, before reaching down for his cup, taking a momentary sip of his wine, "Perhaps a workshop would be more ideal, instruct 'em about the interface between spells and how decorative sigils can be incorporated. They'd enjoy having their own constructed creature or contraption rather than my own shoddy work."
Qifrey raised his eyebrows, "That is a good idea, but", he shuffled closer to Olruggio, taking one of the hands to hold the small dragon with his own, "You shouldn't discount your own work, my friend, even the little contraptions you make are filled with such radiant warmth, your warmth."
"Oh gods," Olruggio threw his head back, looking away ever so slightly, as he breathed blasphemy, "Qifrey, the things you do to me." He wondered where Qifrey would draw the line in their years long dance. The aphonic open secret of their own mutual affections.
The other witch gave a almost wicked hum in response, circling his thumb in the dip of Olruggio's palm, as if he knew what he was doing.
Gods, what was Orluggio thinking, damp shame crept up his trachea, clawing at the back of his throat. How could he even summon such a premonition of such a thought when his dear companion needed comfort. Qifrey was just being nice, nothing more nothing less, if anything trying to make light of his own comments. He closed his eyes, taking a scant breath before pulling his hand away from the other witch.
He smiled, the apple of his cheeks rushed with blood as he moved to clink his own cup with the other's cup in his lap. "Are you going to drink that?"
Qifrey narrowed his eyebrows for a moment, tilting his head as he turned to fully face the other on the sofa. After a beat, the witch relaxed his features, raising his eyebrow as if the rhetorical question was a challenge; before bringing the metal cup to his lips, draining it of it's contents in one go.
Olruggio huffed, "Show off." He muttered, though, loud enough for the other to hear, and him alone. He thought back to the time when the two of them had just reached adulthood, the immediate rush to procure liquor, regardless of the fact neither had ever consumed such poisons in their youth. Olruggio chuckled, they had predictably become befuddled, well, Qifrey had rushed into the whole ordeal, allowing Olruggio a precious moment into the mind of the smoke coloured witch, before he himself felt the effects of the liquor. Looking back on the memory, they really should have started on wine.
"We really were stupid as kids." He smiled, the small light dragon in Qifrey's lap had begun to silently snore.
"We were…wait," Qifrey narrowed his eyes, pouting his lips as if an effort to sour his features, "I don't think the girls are as bad as we were," He looked up at Olruggio, his eye almost frantic, looking for some confirmation, "Right?"
Olruggio swayed, as if internally debating the notion, "I would say they are much more creative than we ever were," He didn't want to encroach on the notion that their own bad habits were present in the girls, "I mean-" He paused, trying to find the right words to calm, one of his hands had moved to his chin, "No?"
The water witch leaned forward quickly, almost swaying in the movement as he swatted him on his shoulder, a soft laugh bubbling from his lips, his earlier demeanour forgotten, "You can not answer a question with another question, silly Olly." Qifrey narrowed his eye, peering past Olruggio for a moment before falling back onto plush cushions that littered the sofa.
Olruggio shrugged, he gave the other a lop sided smile as he reached for his cup, taking a large swig of the sweetly spiced liquor. The apples of his cheeks continued to burn with a forbidden warmth, radiating down the planes of his neck. Olruggio closed his eyes, the saccharine smile still painted onto his face as he took a scant breath, the warm air circulated around his lungs before exhaling. "Bah, Qifrey, it's so good."
Qifrey hummed in response, a wry smile decorating his face, "What is Olly?"
Olruggio turned his head to face the other witch, though his eyes remained closed, he moved to lean on his hand, "Everything- I mean tonight's kinda shite, but look at where we are man!" Even with his eyes closed, the moment with Qifrey, his companion, seemed rhapsodic. The moment felt as if they were in their own little bubble, not beneath the sea but above the clouds, riding the same euphoric path as dragons.
The smoke coloured witch, clad in the tight, ink black compression garment, leaned ever so slightly forward, Olruggio stilled as the other's breath tickled the fine hairs his of skin, even without the visual context, he could feel the gaze of the other witch. Suddenly, cool, delicate fingers brushed his neck and collar; Olruggio startled, a sound of surprise dying in this throat as his eyelids flew open. Directly in front of him, just a hair breadth away, Qifrey fumbled with the light dragon apparition, his focus jumped between the dragon clambering onto Olruggio's chest and the face of his most dearest friend.
Bubbles of laughter fell from Olruggio's lips, he squeaked as Qifrey's fingers brushed against his jugular, "Qifrey!" He raised his hands, grasping at the air as they hovered near Qifrey's waist.
"Yes, Olruggio?" Qifrey hummed, as if unaware of the impacts of his movements. The bastard even had the gall to smirk as he leaned further forward, his fingers and weight on Olruggio's shoulders. "I'm… Just putting our little friend somewhere I can see him," He paused for a moment as his gaze moved to meet Olruggio's, "And so what's important is lit up."
For a moment, within the layers of the coy exchange, Qifrey's expression seemed to falter, as if soured by the afterthought of the moment, an instant regret constricting the breath that the pair were sharing.
Olruggio cocked his head, resting against Qifrey's hand, "Are you okay Qifrey?" Olruggio paused, perhaps the atmosphere, even in the comfort of a good drink and dear companion had not done as much as the pair thought to soften the blow of natal traumas. He finally decided to rest his hands on the hips of the witch perched above him, "Do you want to move away from the windows? We can move to your room or my atelier?" His focus moved to the increasing shower that pelted at the wide windows, any sense of escape shrouded in the darkness, then back to Qifrey.
Qifrey sighed as he rested his forehead on Olruggio's. For a moment, Olruggio thought the witch looked at peace, or as if the vortex of emotions and thoughts within the water witch had stilled for a moment. His hands moved from Olruggio's shoulders, gliding up his neck to caress his jaw, thumbs circling across the delicate skin.
"Qifrey, are you drunk or somethin'." Olruggio muttered, the tip of his ears felt as if they were scalding , he took Qifrey's hands in his and moved to get up, pulling the other man along with him, not before stuffing the bottle of wine in his belt.
Qifrey protested, "I'm fine Olly, really!" He seemed to mumble something below his breath, curiously not resisting as Olruggio pulled him towards the stairs leading to the dormitories.
"You say so, but you're obviously not." Olruggio dropped one of Qifrey's hands, before manoeuvring to walk by the other's side, his free hand finding purchase in the small of Qifrey's back.
"I feel like you're trying to steal the rest of the wine." Qifrey retorted, knocking the back of his hand, and Olruggio's by extension, on the wood carved wine bottle perched on Olruggio's waist.
Olruggio gave a hushed, accusatory gasp as he opened the door to the professor's room, "I would never!"
"Wine fiend." Qifrey dead panned the witch, kicking the door closed behind him, "You didn't even bring our cups."
Olruggio looked down at his belt, "Oh."
"Oh indeed," Qifrey sat on his bed, the room was modest, though the features were obscured in the darkness, "Remember when we'd drink in my apartment in the Great hall."
Olruggio hawed as he made a face, "Just straight out the bottle- that's juvenile Qifrey." He pulled the wine out from his belt, placing it on the bed side table. "We need to appreciate the wine, you can drink straight when it comes to spirits, not wine." He looked around the room, trying to find a cup, or at worse, a saucer, to drink the wine.
Qifrey shrugged as he reached over to the bottle, undoing the latch and bringing the bottle to his lips. Olruggio turned at the sound of the bottle opening, deflating as he watched his friend down the contents of the wine bottle, all while holding eye contact with him. He whined, dramatically falling onto the edge of the bed.
"Qifrey! I wanted some of that." He mumbled into the fabric of the thin sheet decorating the bed.
For a moment, Olruggio thought that the other witch had left him to his drunken misery, a voice in the back of his head nagged at him, suggesting it would be fun to melt into the floor and carpet, to become one with walls and floor; It would be one way of getting inside of Qifrey's head, he'd be doing his watchful eye duties incredibly well, if that were the case. Though, if he were to become part of the building, then he wouldn't get to interact with Qifrey, nor their apprentices. He'd come to warmly appreciate the apprentices, as if he were their own master. Not that the Watchful Eye of the atelier was a professor, despite the honorific the girls had given him.
In spite of that, Olruggio knew he had no business taking apprentices of his own.
The lovely thought was rudely interrupted by the frigid touch of Qifrey's hand, resting on the nape of his neck. Olruggio yelped, a shiver radiated from the offender's weapon of choice down his spine.
"Qifrey."
"Yes." The other witch's saccharine response echoed in the room, Olruggio could imagine the smug grin he was wearing.
Olruggio squinted into the fabric. That was a statement, not a response to his question… Though, there was not much he could do; the smoke coloured witch had him in a vice.
Qifrey smoothed his thumb over vertebrae and tendons, in the movement, catching in the ebony locks of the fire witch. Olruggio hummed, absently drawing circles into the fabric of the bed with his finger.
The air had warmed with the gentle affection between old companions, weaved in between the tender moment, were forgotten confessions and fractured half truths. It was as if this incarnation of the pair witches were a taut string of yarn, each emotional infraction unravelling the thread that had held them together, in both life and beyond.
A tepid weight bore on the fire witch's limbs, converging with the mulled wine that flowed through his veins, a euphoric combination for a good night's rest. Such a combination was a tried and true method, for both witches and unknowings alike; nought such a draught for a weary soul could ever leave the most restless soul to wander. For a moment, it seemed that time had stilled, the atelier encased in syrupy sap of a Monterey pine, preserving the pair in the most dazzling amber. The only indication of another such context was the soft pitter-patter upon the plane glass window.
Qifrey's hand stilled for a moment, his head wrenched away from the radiant star, whom he held in his hands like liquid gold, towards the dark abyss. Its constant presence was a suffocating feeling, constricting his airways.
Crackles and pops and joints forced the witch's head back to the one in his grasp; it had seemed even in light slumber, Olruggio was plagued by his own bad posture. Qifrey watched as the other slightly twisted, in all but a futile attempt to rest in a more comfortable position.
Qifrey tapped the nape of Olruggio's neck, gently chiding the Watchful Eye, "Olly, come lay on the bed, it would be magnitudes more comfortable than hanging off the edge of the bedding."
Olruggio grumbled, muttering something along the lines, 'the floor was also comfortable as it is', as he pushed his upper body further onto the bed, his face pressed into the crook of his arm.
Qifrey rolled his eye at the lacklustre attempt, before his features softened to a wry smile. "Of course it is." Even with such a mild scolding, Qifrey gently pushed off the bed, moving to roll the other witch into the bed. Such is the duty of a faithful companion, to push and pull in the times of adversity; and to aid the other when one of them had too much to drink.
Olruggio protested, albeit mildly, at the treatment, the other witch had only gotten tipsy after downing the rest of the bottle of the spice mulled wine, whereas, he was reeling from his drunken state, limbs as heavy as timber incapacitated the star of Ghodrey from giving the other man his reckoning. "Qifrey," He raised his arm slightly, beckoning the other witch back to the edge of the bed with the flick of his wrist,"If… I'm 'ere, where are you gonna sleep?" The phrase came out jilted, words slurring into the pillow.
The fire witch struggled to think for a moment as he compartmentalised the blank face Qifrey returned to him. Olruggio's vision blurred as he watched the other fret for a moment, his head whipped to his cloak and pointed hat hung by the door, then back to the shining star in his bed. "Don't even think about goin' somewhere else." The directive seemed to pause Qifrey, shoulders rigid.
Olruggio narrowed his eyes, as much as he could half asleep, as the other man reached, somewhat unsubtly, to the desk near the bed, long, narrow fingers grasped a small object, its surface shimmering in what light the the mistress of night had given them, before its visage became eclipsed by the other's grasp.
The rational part of his brain must have fallen asleep, aided by such warm mulled wine, leaving the irresponsible boyish part of his brain free to use his encumbered limbs.
Olruggio watched as he reached across the bed, deft fingers hooked around the bundles of fabric at Qifrey's waist.
"Olly, what are you doing?-" Olruggio pulled as Qifrey sputtered, neither breaking eye contact as the water witch ungraciously fell forwards onto the bed. "What in goodness gracious was that for?"
Olruggio slowly blinked at the witch across from him, he untangled his fingers, moving them to rest on the dip of Qifrey's waist. "Sleep here," he patted the other's side, as if he were not petting his friend but a long haired cat, "If you get sick, the girls won't let me hear the end of it."
Qifrey bristled, for a long moment Olruggio thought the witch would storm off. His heart could not bear such a reaction from someone so dear, but even in his impaired state he knew better. The fire witch watched as the other reached to remove his spectacle, placing them on the bed frame; without the sigil and thus glamour, the scarring of an event unknown resurfaced, a feature not unaware to Olruggio.
"You're right Olly," Qifrey smiled, his own hand made its way up, cupping Olruggio's cheek. The fire witch flushed as the water witch's thumb moved across his cheek, gently smoothing across the skin under his eye, "Though, I doubt either of us are fit to teach tomorrow, I can already feel the hangover."
Olruggio huffed, his own hand had halted in its movements, instead he circled his finger into Qifrey's waist, "That, my friend, is a by product of old age, you'd never feel it hit this early when we were green." He chuckled as he watched Qifrey haw at the extremely unsubtle notion that they were no longer young and spry as the children they instructed and kept watch over.
"Both of us need to keep hydrated tomorrow then, I don't think either of us have had a sip of water." Qifrey mumbled into the crook of his arm, though his eye remained wide, alert.
The moment between the two witches felt like such a mundane occurrence; two companions in embrace, under the cover of darkness, a recipe for sweet serendipity. Olruggio felt as if he was drifting on a cloud, nodding as his eyelids fell shut.
"You've given up so much to be here, Olruggio." Qifrey whispered, if not to Olruggio, but to himself, his voice tinged with regret.
Olruggio hummed, "I'd give you everything, you wouldn't have to ask." He felt Qifrey's stare burn into his face, the statement was the truth.
Many had chided Olruggio for abandoning the prospect of glory if he had remained in the great hall; he was the famed Witch of the Torch, renowned to even the leaders of the outsiders of the Zozah peninsula. However, Qifrey's atelier was the home they had built from the ground up, one of the few changes in his life the witch had control over. Here, the pair and their girls were far from the prying eyes of pointed hat society and its arbitrary expectations. If not freedom, their abode in the Naakiwan Downs was their peaceful sanctuary. And theirs alone.
The other seemed to share the sentiment as Olruggio felt Qifrey's thumb move, gently smoothing from his cheek to grace across his lower lip, his fingers curled around his chin.
Olruggio opened his eyes, Qifrey's intention had sobered him slightly. He watched as the other witch's gaze moved from his lips to his lapis lazuli eyes. "Y'know, your eyelashes are very long."
Qifrey huffed through his nose, as if he were stifling a laugh, as he leaned ever so slightly forward. "Mhm, I know, I have been told that quite a lot, especially before you made my spectacle. I dare say you ruined my prospects."
The star cladded witch shuffled closer in tandem, a deep chuckle emanated from his chest, "I don't see many prospects in this part of Zozah."
"Olly," Olruggio stayed perfectly still as the other leaned, one hand on his chin, the other grasping his own injured shoulder, "may I kiss you?" The question was hushed, for the question and its answer was for the two of them alone.
Blood raced to Olruggio's ears, ardour warming face, as his eyes widened, "Oh- Qifrey." Words seemed to fail him, as he nodded, bringing his own hand to Qifrey's cheek, cupping the man's jaw as if he were priceless jade.
Qifrey blew a content sigh, the cool air graced over Olruggio's lips, which felt ever so warm. Qifrey tilted his head as he closed the gap between them, pressing his lips against the star in his arms. He watched as Olruggio closed his eyes as the pair shared a languid kiss, both sacred and sacrilegious in nature.
It was a sweet, yet clumsy kiss. Love and admiration poured from one soul to another as they parted, breathless in the nightlight, the down pour forgotten. Olruggio rested his forehead in the crook of Qifrey's bent arm, still grasping at his injured shoulder.
"Is it botherin' you?"He peered at the other witch, who's pursed lips and pensive expression resolved his query. It was as if the witch he held in his embrace had become hardened like petrified wood, "Do ya want me to take a look-"
Qifrey pushed Olruggio away, as if he had been burned by a flame, his expression cast in anguish, "I made a mistake-," He fretted as slender fingers dug his shoulder, the tender wound ached with secrets untold.
Olruggio pushed himself up, running a hand through his hair, "Hey, Qifrey, explain to me what's goin' on," He watched as Qifrey frantically paced across the room, rummaging in his cloak and hat for something, "Got a salve or somethin'?" Olruggio swung his legs over the edge of the bed, slowly making his way over to the water witch.
"You have given me too much," Qifrey had something in his grasp, as he turned to face Olruggio, his face covered in a layer of sweat, "You will give and give until you are rendered to just dying embers." His voice crackled with a mix of exasperation and fear.
Olruggio grabbed Qifrey's arm, "What are you on about?" Pausing the man in his motions he took a step closer, only for the witch to take a step back.
"I have and will, never be able to forgive myself, but you…" Qifrey's gaze found Olruggio's, using the grip the other witch had on him to pull Olruggio forward, he placed a chaste kiss on Olruggio's lips, his other hand gently pressed a piece of small round parchment against his forehead. Qifrey watched the other witch's expression rapidly veer from concern to utter disbelief as Qifrey used a forbidden spell against him.
Olruggio watched on, his eyes fluttering as the memories of serendipity became awash, an artificial slumber grasped at his very core, extinguishing his flame. Gone had the moment shared in a comforting embrace and sweet mulled silvernectar wine .
Olruggio slumped forward in Qifrey's grasp, gone to the land of dreamless sleep, he manoeuvred the two of them back to the bed, laying Olruggio as he were before, comfortable and unaware, "You will continue to forgive me even when I have stolen from you. I cannot allow that, now or ever."
"Olruggio, you are the most radiant star in the sky, but with your light, my roots will embed into our home- I just need to savour this peace a little while longer." Searing tears tumbled from Qifrey's eye, as he sank to the floor at the foot of the bed. From his skirt pocket he took a small ink vial, shedding each tear he had for his most dearest companion into that vessel, not a single tear would be lost; Olruggio had sacrificed so much for him, it was the least he could do.
Comfort was a painful state of being for Qifrey, relegated to the cold floor, he held guard over his sanctuary and the object of doomed affections. If they were to exist as they were fated to in this life, both the spirits and the world would tear themselves apart and rebuild itself anew.
Δ
The smoke coloured witch kept vigil on the floor, he had forbade himself from slumber and relinquished the right to seek any pardon for his actions. The hours had dragged before the storm had broken, the stray threads of dawn draped over the atelier. Qifrey breathed a sigh of relief as he slowly raised from the ground, shuffling towards the head of the bed as he fumbled for his spectacle. His gaze drifted towards Olruggio, his obsidian locks strewn over the pillow, limbs twisted into the sheets.
It was as if he had naturally fallen asleep from drunken splendour.
Qifrey tared his gaze from Olruggio, as much as it pained him, the idea of trying to compartmentalise the situation or even avoid his own actions was equally as dangerous indulging in his own selfish desires. What a horrid hand fate had handed him.
Perhaps he should begin making breakfast, it was nearing the times the girls generally woke up.
He sighed, throwing on a more casual outfit as he took one last look at the room, and to Olruggio, who made the bed his own.
Qifrey had reached for the door handle before a soft groan stopped his hand mid air.
"Qifrey?" He looked back, as Olruggio tried to sit up, his head bowed. "God I am so hungover."
The water witch leaned against the door, crossing his arms, as he watched Olruggio realise who's bed he was in.
If he had not made such a blunder the night before, the look of realisation, well supposed realisation, would have been hilarious.
"I fell asleep here didn't I? I am so sorry-I probably kicked you out of your own bed, knowing me," Olruggio spoke into his hands, a fluster of shame creeping up his neck. "Wait where did you sleep?"
"On the floor," The witch told a half truth, though he was on the floor, he was by no means asleep, but that was for him and night to know alone. He watched as Olruggio flopped back into bed, hands covering his face. He turned, closing his eye as he opened the door, "Take your time, I'll make breakfast."
Olruggio mumbled a confirmation in response, it was all Qifrey could bear to witness as he escaped from his room, gliding down the hall.
Maybe one day, perhaps when his roots finally take to the stable ground, would Qifrey ever mention this encounter, perhaps he will never. He hopes at least, one day to be able to wake up beside Olruggio, as lovers do and continue on with their domestic bliss. However, pragmatic, that was just a fantasy, he was living on borrowed time.
It was only a matter of time.