Work Text:
Olruggio was busy. That was how it started. Privately, he thinks maybe that’s how everything started. He’s always too busy, too overworked and overtired to pay attention, losing time and forgetting everything about Qifrey. It’s a damning thing, that he meticulously tracks everything about his clients but can barely seem to keep it together enough to remember conversations he has with his one and only best friend. Qifrey already does so much to take care of him; it’s the least Olruggio can do to remember their time spent together. He doesn’t. Maybe if he did, things wouldn’t have gotten to this point.
Qifrey was sick. His skin, already fair beyond reason, was whiter than Olruggio could ever remember it being. His clothes hung loose in all the wrong ways and he tightened his belt more than before. That was the first thing Olruggio noticed– and once he began noticing, he couldn’t stop. His friend hardly stood as a paragon of health on a good day–too skinny, too anxious, and always just a little more tired than he should be–but he was never like this, more skeleton than man, with deep bruises beneath his eyes and pale lips stretched around practiced smiles. Every day he resembled his old teacher more and more–more time spent seated, more time spent in bed, carrying himself as if a wind might break him. Maybe it would.
A part of Olruggio felt that this was the natural progression of things. Qifrey had always been something not quite of this world, pulled alive from underground, white as snow and just as impermanent. Maybe this was simply the end of winter, Qifrey melting into nothing as his heart thawed. Olruggio began to wonder if he shouldn’t have specialized in fire but ice, so that he could preserve his friend with a spell and a prayer.
By rights, Qifrey should have been improving. Olruggio may be lacking as a watchful eye at the best of times, but he still puts in the effort when necessary. He tries to pay attention to the wellbeing of the people at the atelier. Qifrey was sleeping through the night, every night, and even taking naps throughout the day. The frequency of their midnight snacks had declined until Olruggio hardly saw him without at least one of the girls around. It left him without much time to confront Qifrey about what was going on. As far as Olruggio could tell, he was eating as well as always, at least when Olruggio made it to mealtimes. Qifrey had never gained weight in all the time he knew him in spite of the amount he ate, something Olruggio was mature enough to admit he was jealous of. It was as if Qifrey were secretly feeding an additional person within his body–maybe they were stealing away all of his lifeforce.
Olruggio, a witch from birth, had always been overly cautious about learning any medicine by mistake. Qifrey took notes from doctors, at the very least. Olruggio made his best efforts to ignore them. Now he felt woefully uninformed, wondering if he had missed something obvious all these years. Even Qifrey’s apprentices had caught on to the fact that something was off and were doing their best to account for it. Coco, in particular, was glued to his side, bringing him food, water, and whatever else he might need. The two of them had been taking tea together before bed for weeks now, ostensibly so that Qifrey could give her remedial lessons on witch culture. Of everything going on at the atelier, this was an issue Olruggio was actually trained for.
It was inappropriate for a witch to show favoritism to any of their students, and secret, secluded, one-on-one meetings over an extended period of time were often a sign of something more sinister. Loath as he was to doubt his friend’s intentions, Olruggio had a duty to uphold. If it gave him an excuse to investigate what was going on with Qifrey, then that was just a convenient coincidence.
Since Beldaruit had taken a leave of absence from many of his official duties while he recovered under the care of the king of Ezrest, Olruggio decided not to submit an official report of investigation just yet. If he was truly looking out for Coco, he reasoned, then he couldn’t risk the Knights Moralis getting involved and deciding to punish her just for ending up in a bad situation. He would look into the matter on his own before requesting a review from a fellow watchful eye.
Opening a new page in his journal, Olruggio began to map out his project parameters as if it were a request from a client:
- Determine the cause of Qifrey’s declining health
- After identifying the problem, create a solution
- Investigate the nature of Qifrey and Coco’s relationship
- Intercede if necessary
Not for the first time, Olruggio wished Alaira was still around to consult with. He was truly incapable of conducting a non-biased investigation into Qifrey and could use the perspective of a trusted individual. But needs must. This was, first and foremost, about helping Qifrey there was no one more qualified for that role than him.
Olruggio worked on his plan of attack long into the night, thinking of how quick Qifrey would be to catch on if he tipped his hand even a little bit. It was a good thing witches were such thoroughly trained liars. He could lie to Qifrey. It would be fine. And, if nothing was wrong, his investigation wouldn’t damage their friendship. The girls were Qifrey’s number one priority. If anything put them in danger, including himself, he would want Olruggio to take care of it. This was the right thing to do.
With that in mind, Olruggio went to the bed just as the sun began to crest over the horizon. He slept through breakfast and lunch, waking up to find two meals left outside his room, kept fresh by a spell. Qifrey was always attentive. Olruggio would be better, starting now.
That afternoon, he began his plan of attack. The girls were busy copying spells, Qifrey watching over them as he read, their lessons for the day complete. Olruggio poked his head in to say hello, checking in on how they were doing. Tetia immediately jumped up, describing her latest idea for a spell at a mile a minute.
“Riche, can I borrow you for a moment?” he asked.
Riche stared up at him. She squinted her eyes. Olruggio began to sweat. Maybe this wouldn’t be as easy as he thought it would be. The girls were all very perceptive. At last, she seemed to come to a decision and asked, “Do you have to?”
“I need to measure you for your new boots, remember?”
Riche looked down at her feet. “I don’t need new ones.”
“You will need new ones eventually,” he said.
“No.”
“Riche.”
“Riche doesn’t wanna.”
“Please? Just come to my workshop. If you want, we can talk about adding your magic to them.”
Riche paused at that, glancing over to Qifrey.
“I think that that’s a marvelous idea,” Qifrey said, “What do you say, Riche? Do you want a new pair of boots that use your own magic?”
“Riche’s magic boots…”
Riche went starry-eyed, then whirled around on her toe and began marching off in the direction of Olruggio’s room. He watched her go for a moment before sharing a fond look with Qifrey.
“I have a long night ahead of me, don’t I?” He asked.
“She’s been trying to branch out lately,” Qifrey replied, “I’m very proud of her. I hope you can show her some more creative uses of her spells.”
“I hope so too,” Olruggio said, hurrying to catch up to Riche before she decided to blow a hole in his door from impatience.
Twenty minutes later and Olruggio was helping Riche develop a design for the most intricate pair of boots he would ever make. Her magic was painstaking and tedious, and checking her work might singlehandedly destroy his eyesight. It was, put simply, fun.
“I’m sure we can add your crystal to the soles, but you’ll definitely want something with cushion once you get around to actually wearing them.”
“Can you make them glow?” Riche says in response.
“Make them glow?”
“Yes.”
“What part do you want to glow?” he asks.
Riche studied the designs for a second before pointing to the soles. “Here. I want them to glow when I take a step. Master Qifrey says Riche needs to learn other people’s magic so that Riche’s magic is better.”
“I see.” Olruggio replied, “He’s not wrong about that. A lot of my best ideas have been inspired by other people’s magic. My rain-or-shine umbrella, for example, was based on one of Qifrey’s spells. He’s pretty cool, don’t you think?”
“I guess. I’m going to make them like your glowstones, so that when I take a step the circle pushes together.” Riche smiled to herself. “There! I was inspired by your magic. Isn’t Riche amazing?”
“Yes, you are Riche. By the way, how’re your lessons lately? How’s Qifrey compare to your last master?”
“He’s good,” Riche said slowly, “He doesn’t hit people. He likes Riche’s magic. We all get to see so much pretty magic with him. Riche likes him.”
“That’s good to hear.” It seemed Olruggio wouldn’t be getting any of the info he wanted out of her anytime soon. That was fine, he supposed.
“He keeps throwing up. It’s gross. He should take medicine if he’s sick. My laces are going to be made of Riche’s magic.”
Or maybe not. “I didn’t know he’d been feeling bad. Thank you for telling me Riche.”
“Uh-huh.” Riche continued pursuing her mission of light-up boots with singular focus.
Next was Tetia. She was easier to get alone, always eager to lend a helping hand in his workshop. Their conversation went a bit like this:
“How are things going now that you’re no longer the newest apprentice? Do you feel like you’re learning?”
“It’s so much fun to have someone to teach things to! I love showing new magic to Coco. I definitely want to teach apprentices when I grow up.”
And:
“How are things with Qifrey? Do you get along ok with him?”
“Yep! He is pretty tired lately, but it can’t be easy keeping up with all four of us.”
Agott had both more and less to say on the subject:
“He spends far more time than he should teaching Coco, but I suppose it is the only way of closing her gap with the rest of us. If he needs a break, I would be more than happy to take over that portion of her lessons. Recently, she’s been working on spells that combine the effects of multiple keystones…”
Suffice to say, Olruggio was able to learn quite a bit more about Coco.
And lastly, from Coco herself:
“Master Qifrey has really helped me out a lot over the past few months. I just want to do what I can to return the favor.”
Setting aside the somewhat-concerning implications of that statement, it seemed that all of the girls were of similar opinions:
Qifrey was wonderful, they were learning lots, they hoped he would get some rest, and no one felt at all uncomfortable. That, at least, was a relief. But still, none of it helped him figure out what was wrong with the man. It didn’t help that it was becoming increasingly difficult to have conversations with Qifrey–every time Olruggio would attempt to corner him, one of the girls had a problem, or an emergency request had come in, or something in the kitchen just couldn’t be left unattended. Finally, Olruggio settled for pining a note to Qifrey’s door telling him he wanted to talk. Simple and straightforward. He should’ve done it this way from the start.
The next night, Qifrey appeared at his door, dinner in hand and the girls nowhere in sight. He only attempted a quick smile as he set down the food, taking a moment to arrange it on one of Olruggio’s tables. After a few minutes passed without Olruggio saying anything (he was really trying to find the words, but they just wouldn’t come), Qiffrey drew in a breath and began to speak.
“The girls all say you asked how I was treating them. Have I done something untoward? You know harming them is the last thing I would ever want. I trust you will correct me if I go awry. It is, after all, your job as my Watchful Eye.”
“You haven’t done anything wrong, Qifrey, I just…” Olruggio hesitated. “You haven’t been your usual self, lately. I guess I was worried, s’all.”
“How so?” Qifrey tilted his head curiously.
“What do you mean, ‘How so?’”
“How have I not been my usual self?”
Olruggio gave him a look. “You’re quieter, for one. You haven’t been this quiet since we were apprentices; though, even that didn’t exactly last long.
“You sleep a lot more, going to bed at the same time as the girls. And you keep oversleeping. And napping too. You’ve napped before, but never this much.”
“I suppose I have been unreasonably tired lately. Perhaps I should see a doctor about that. They might be able to give me a medicine to keep myself awake. It isn’t fair to you or the girls if I spend so much of my time in my bed.”
“That’s not just it!” Olruggio retorted, “You’ve lost weight too! How do you explain that?”
“Ah, you noticed? I’ll admit, I have been eating less lately.”
“No, you haven’t. We eat the same things, Qifrey, I would know if you were eating less.” Olruggio thought about all the times he skipped meals and amended his statement, “The girls would know.”
Qifrey hummed and paused for a minute, coming to a decision. “Our conversation, a few months ago, when you told me you were unhappy with your weight, do you remember that? And I told you to eat more filling foods? Well, those are the sorts of foods I’ve been preparing. That’s all.”
“For heaven’s sake, Qifrey! You’re certainly not the one who needs to be on a diet. Even if what you’re saying is true, I haven’t lost any weight! Just you! You!” Olruggio stopped himself before he could really begin yelling. The girls were in bed, after all. It wouldn’t do for them to be kept up listening to him berate their teacher.
“Listen. We’ve been living together for a long time Qifrey, and I’ve been your friend for longer. I know something is wrong, even if you won’t tell me what it is. I’m sorry I didn’t notice it sooner, I just seem to be so forgetful these days. If you want to talk about being fair to each other, I’m the one who’s not fair to you. You do your best to make sure I’m sleeping and eating well. You help me when I can’t solve problems for my clients, and you spend so much time helping the girls. You deserve better than an infrequent fraction of my attention.” You deserve everything, he thinks.
“Oh, Olly.”
“So please. Let me take care of you. For once in your life.”
“Alright. I concede.” Qifrey said. “But Olruggio, you already take such good care of me. You’ve built so many items and spells to help me with my chores. Everytime I have a problem, you have a solution. I don’t know what I would do without you around to help with the girls. They all love you so much. You give me so much more than an infrequent fraction of your attention. I already have everything.”
“Then why do you look so sad about it? Why are your headaches getting worse? Is your eye bothering you, is that it? Do you not–” Olruggio stopped.
“Do I not what, Olruggio?”
“Do you not trust me anymore?” it came out in a whisper.
“Oh, Olly,” Qifrey said again. “I trust you with everything.”
“Just not the truth?”
Qifrey smiled at him. “It’s not that. I really do trust you. It’s more myself, really, that I can’t trust. But believe me, I am working on it. I’m working so hard to figure it out, and when I do, you’ll be the first to know. Well, maybe the second actually. But that’s not important.”
“Qifrey, what is it that you can’t tell me? Is it the brimhats again? You said you’d given that up, back when we were apprentices. Is that why you’ve been spending so much time with Coco?”
“Is that what tipped you off? It does make sense, I shouldn’t be spending so much time with just her. I’ll be more careful in the future.”
Qifrey stood and walked towards him, straddling his lap.
“Thank you for trusting me with your concern. It means more to me than you know.”
Olruggio looked up at him dumbly, unsure how to respond. Qifrey had never been this close to him. Normally, Qifrey was all water and cold, cold as cut ice and soft as fresh snow. Right now Olruggio felt like he’d lost control of one of his own inventions, searing burns spreading from every point of contact; his thighs, the back of his head, the juncture between his shoulder and neck, heat radiated from Qifrey’s touch.
“Qifrey, what are you–” Before Olruggio could finish, Qifrey was tipping them both over and onto the floor, cradling his head as they went. Their hats flew off and landed somewhere nearby.
For a long moment, Qifrey stared down at him, eye impossibly bright, hair floating about like snow. For once his cheeks had a healthy flush. Olruggio hardly batted an eye as Qifrey reached over his head to pick up his hat from where it had fallen, setting it on his head. Something about their position, awkward as it was, was making his head spin. Maybe Qifrey wasn’t the sick one. Maybe it was him.
“That’s just going to fall off again, y’know,” he said, “What with me being horizontal and all. Maybe I should add a spell so that they don’t come off your head unless you want them to.”
Qifrey smiled at him. “I’ll be sure to remind you of that come morning. Ah, sweet dreams, my star.” With that, he pulled down the front of the hat and Olruggio was plunged into darkness.
Olruggio was busy. That was how it started. Privately, he thinks maybe that’s how everything started. He’s always too busy, too overworked and overtired to pay attention, losing time and forgetting everything about Qifrey. It’s a damning thing, that he meticulously tracks everything about his clients but can barely seem to keep it together enough to remember the conversations he has with his one and only best friend. Qifrey already does so much to take care of him; it’s the least Olruggio can do to remember their time spent together. He doesn’t. Maybe if he did things wouldn’t have gotten to this point.