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“Master Qifrey~!” Tetia calls, running over to Qifrey, who’s washing the dishes after another fulfilling dinner. He turns, donning an indulgent smile as always, and catches her as she leaps into his arms. “Master Qifrey, what do you want for mother’s day?”
“Mother’s day? Why, what brought this on?” Chucking, he says, “I’m quite sure I’m not your mother.”
The pink-haired girl hmph’s, crossing her arms in his hold. “Well, we can’t give you anything on Father’s Day, giving gifts to two people on Father’s Day is insincere!
Qifrey hums, cocking his head questioningly. “Who’s the other person?” If it were a stranger, he’d be quite concerned. There’s always the option of the girl’s original father, but that doesn’t seem likely, especially as she’s speaking for his collective apprentices. Though, there is another figure that’s very parental, that both he and the girls know and trust, and who even lives directly in the atelier. A certain black-haired, scruffy man…
“Master Olruggio, of course!” Tetia beams up at him, and a burning fondness forms in Qifrey’s chest.
“Of course,” Qifrey parrots. “I suppose that does make sense.” With a quiet grunt, he sets Tetia down to continue washing up. “But still, I can’t be your mother. It’s nothing to do with my gender or competing with Olruggio,” he reassures upon seeing Tetia’s downtrodden face. “But, I know all of you have your own mothers.” Available or not, goes unsaid.
“If you don’t want to… that’s okay, Master Qifrey,” she mumbles.
Without another word, she walks off, missing all of the enthusiasm she had upon first interaction. Regret haunts him then, guilty for putting such an expression on one of his dearest apprentices, but there’s nothing he could or would do to change his answer. Whether it’s motherhood or fatherhood, having children in any capacity is a privilege he would never allow himself. A privilege his condition would never allow him. Even the — ever narrowing — distance of teaching is pushing the line.
He allows himself to sigh, then. A breathy exhale holding all of his unspoken words, secrets, apologies, anger, happiness and sadness alike. Tetia’s small steps halt against the flooring, and Qifrey almost thinks she heard him sigh and assumed the worst of him. That is, until her voice carries over, purposefully loud but carrying a sorrow he’s never heard from her before.
“Does Master Qifrey not want to be our mother?” She sniffles, talking to both Qifrey and another primary audience at the same time. “I, I really thought…”
Oh no.
Another voice joins in, as abnormally loud as Tetia’s, but tearing his heart in two despite the obvious falsity of the emotion.
“After my mother turned to stone…” A flash of panic.
It’s Coco. And she’s crying. As one of the only consistent adult figures in their lives, Qifrey had resolved to never make the children cry unless it was for a good reason. Denying his role as a parental figure in their life is not a good enough reason.
“I thought I would be much more torn up about it. And I am, I really miss her… but…” Coco’s voice turns watery and shaky, and if Qifrey could, he would spell the tears right off of her face, but— “Having Master Qifrey around makes happiness come so much easier… Hearing him say he couldn’t be our mother felt like watching her turn to stone again. And with it comes those terrible feelings of loss.”
Before he makes up his mind to storm over there and comfort Coco, Tetia, and whoever else may be snooping, a quieter voice rings out, no less noticeable than the other two.
“It’s cruel!” Richeh yells passionately. “Richeh and Riri-nii were saved by Master Qifrey, only for him to not take responsibility… That’s not what mothers are supposed to do. Adults are all liars!”
Something in her last line, the tone, the slight tremble, clues Qifrey into the fact that she’s being at least partially truthful. And, truthful to his own feelings, Qifrey aches. Her and Agott in the second test had filled him with hope that he had been successful in cultivating trust. When he asked Richeh to trust him, and she did, even if tentatively. When she left and brought Olruggio over. Two moments of trust in adults when adults have only hurt her previously, which meant much more than just agreement and safety respectfully.
Recovery is not linear. It’s even harder with childhood experiences, Qifrey should know that more than anyone. That doesn’t mean he isn’t allowed to be saddened by setbacks in the child he’s helping, when he’s stuck at a crossroads with no idea how to progress forwards or how to rectify his mistake. As an adult with huge influence over Richeh’s development, he really should do better.
“No, that’s exactly what mothers do,” Agott refutes. Arguably the one with the worst experience with biological mothers. “They give you teachings and the illusion of comfort but deny any emotional attachment, so they can just throw you away when you mess up. They’ll then claim they expected it, that you should have expected it yourself, and say it was your fault. That was what my mother did, in any case.”
He can almost see all of them nodding in unison despite facing away, staring unseeing down at the incomplete dishes.
Tetia speaks up, “But Master Qifrey has never punished us for any mistakes before! Besides a light scolding, but otherwise he’s suuuper patient with us!”
“Oh Tetia,” Agott tuts, “Those mistakes built up. Every harsh word he bit back and all the worry we caused him definitely put a strain on him. Holding it all inside is never good.” She says it so matter-of-fact-ly it almost convinces Qifrey that he does exactly that.
He does, in a way, repress feelings. The negative sentiments overshadow his every waking moment. But it’s that pain that keeps him alive. Every time he does something that, logically, would be terrible for anyone else, he keeps it and uses it to patch his heart up. He’s almost come to enjoy the feeling of roots receding, even as his emotions hurt more than anything.
“He cried when I got hurt during the Silver Festival,” Coco informs, undoubtedly touching her scar as she is wont to do while pondering. “That released some of it, even if only a little bit…”
Agott is sharp on the interpretation. “Did he cry because you got hurt, or did he cry from disappointment that you weren’t strong enough?”
Next time, blast it away with one of your own spells, he had said.
“Ah– Both, I guess.”
Coco’s voice once again is tinged with pain as her voice changes in direction. Looking down, as she always does when crying. “I need to get stronger. Then I can bring both my mom’s back…”
She already considers him another mother. I never left, Qifrey wants to say. A hand clamps over his mouth to stifle any noises that may clue the girls into his eavesdropping. Oh girls.
The girls haven’t cried in a while. Yet now, all of them seem to be teary, a soft collection of sobs and sniffs filling the air, grating on Qifrey’s ears. There’s only so much Qifrey can do to feign ignorance. There’s a point where the threat of the Silverwood within him is outweighed by his girls, and once his composure cracks, all of him pours out.
In a flash, Qifrey is at the staircase they hid behind, scooping all of his girls into a tight, warm hug. Small fists grasp at his robes. He holds them back, strokes their hair, does his best to comfort them. What can he say that would make it better?
“Oh dear, oh dear,” he murmurs, “Don’t cry, little ones.” They’re still only twelve. “I wasn’t sure if I was worthy of being your mother, but I would be truly honored to hold that place in your hearts.”
A truth. A catalyst for the roots to spread further, bulging beneath his robes in the sensitive area between shoulder and neck, creeping down to his back. Thankfully, Coco is the only one with her hand there, clinging to his arm and burying her wet face in his shoulder.
“You promise you’ll do it?” Richeh speaks up, wiping her tears with the edge of his white overalls.
“You double triple promise?” Tetia adds. And who is he to deny them?
Chuckling wetly, he agrees. “I promise and double-triple promise, Richeh, Tetia. For as long as you wish it so, I will be your mother figure.”
“And you won’t leave us alone forever?” The vulnerability in Agott’s eyes as she says that is a rare showing from her, and Qifrey swipes tears away from the corner of her eye with his thumb.
“I wouldn’t do that, Agott. I couldn’t leave you by yourselves.”
Coco stiffens against him.
Her eyes squeeze shut in his warm embrace.
“Tetia will ask him what he wants, and either we get a gift idea, or we enact step two of The Plan. It’s quite simple, really. We all hide by the stairs, and if Tetia comes back with denial, we loudly air out our experiences with mothers. It’s called ‘guilt tripping’.”
“Are we sure about this? It seems a little manipulative…”
“Don’t worry. Master Qifrey can sniff out lies like brushbuddies and conjuring ink. If he really didn’t want to, he wouldn’t respond at all!”
“Okay, I trust you, Tetia!”
“All of us came up with this plan together. Let’s reap the rewards!”
The plan worked perfectly. The bad taste in Coco’s mouth however, doesn’t feel nearly as pleasant as the joy of success.
Those were undeniably roots under his skin. And upon Agott’s question, fuelled by past experiences and false desperation, they had receded. Like he hurt more at the reminder that his life isn’t permanent.
Richeh was right. Every adult is a liar. Coco’s mother had lied when she said Coco could be a witch if the stones lit up all the way home. Master Qifrey had lied, and has been lying for his entire life. Coco knows now that some lies are necessary to tell. It hurts, but alas.
She just wishes Master Qifrey’s lie to them just now hadn’t sounded like Coco’s own lie to her mother. Her promise to stay no matter what.
(In the darkened hallway above, a certain dark-haired, scruffy father figure leans against the wall, observing the relieved sobbing of all five of his loved ones. The kids were so obviously manipulating him. Nobody ‘whispers’ about such topics so loud. Even Olruggio could hear them from his workshop.
He chuckles softly, fondly. Qifrey had always wanted to settle down. What a privilege it is that Olruggio is there to see their little family take shape.)