Work Text:
For many years, the atelier belonged to the pair of them, a peaceful haven for them to live in domestic bliss. Heaven knows they've earned it after all they've endured through the years—Master Qifrey’s atelier, where they spent so many of their formative years as apprentices, is just as homely as it was back then. Their goal upon retiring here after their study years was simply to take each day as it comes and deal with issues when they arise.
Certain things have come and gone, problems, disagreements, and obligations as witches—but the two of them are as strong as ever, bound together like a tightly coiled knot of string that not even a pin could ease loose.
In more recent times, however, a development has come about. An extra pair of feet that tip-tap about the atelier.
“Qiqi,” Agott calls out, an affectionate nickname on her lips. Although it isn't the official name given to the young girl that often pitter-patters about their home, it is the alias she finds sitting readily atop her tongue whenever curly green hair comes into frame. “Qiqi, honey, come out. We're not playing hide and seek any more."
Footsteps echo behind her, and Agott gazes over her shoulder, knowing exactly who is approaching—something she didn't realise years ago: when you live with people long enough, you can even pick up on the details of their footsteps.
“Have you found her?” Coco exhales, out of breath from eagerly dashing about their home. There's an anxious look painted onto her face, one Agott knows oh-so-well and wishes she could smudge away as easily as her sloppy pencil sketches give under the tip of a rubber. “I checked our room, the workshop, but nothing.”
Agott was barely back from her quick venture to Kalhn to fetch some restocks for their stationery supplies when she'd been ambushed by her wife at the door, fumbling over her words and clearly in need of one long, deep breath. After she'd settled that, she'd managed to coax the information out of Coco about what had transpired; having someone so small in the house tends to mean they can squeeze into places you don't know exist, and unfortunately for them in this scenario, they’re not twelve any more. Little Qiqi is nowhere to be seen, and Agott felt the first true shock of adrenaline rush through her in years.
The common areas where she covered (the living area and the kitchen) are completely deserted, apart from the soft crackling of the pyreball splintering firewood in the hearth, as per usual. If they were ever unsure of where their daughter was in the middle of the day, they could usually hazard a guess that she'd have curled up in front of it with her blanket. Unfortunately, said blanket is draped over the couch in a tossed-aside fashion; nothing more than the actions of a clumsy child to blame. She might have smirked at it if it weren't for the worry churning in her gut.
“Her room and our old apprentice rooms." Agott places a hand on Coco’s shoulder, gently urging her towards that direction while tenderly pressing a chaste kiss to her cheek. “Go, I'll take the outside.”
“The doors should be locked, the windows too—Agott, it's pouring down outside,” Coco’s brows furrow, her hands wringing nervously, her worries evident in the clenching of her jaw.
Instead of standing here going back and forth, Agott lingers a hand over her cheek, her touch feather-light by the silvery-pink sheen of mottled scarring that has remained on her face since that dreaded Silver Eve. Whenever she does this, turning Coco’s face to look her properly in the eyes, her wife seems to get the hint to listen to what she's saying.
“Check the rooms, dear. I'll be right back, okay? There's no harm in me having a quick scout.” Without waiting for a response, Agott turns on her heel and walks briskly to the front door, undoing the locks without much issue. She doesn't bother with a coat, and she hums with appreciation as Coco agrees to do as she says and runs off towards the designated study rooms and bedrooms.
Stepping out into the rain, the water soaks her hair immediately, seeping down into her curls, and if she were moving with less urgency, she would take the time to scowl at the feeling. Instead, she sets off running and clicks the soles of her shoes together, feeling a thousand droplets immediately collide with her as she shoots directly up into the air, wisps of green from the wind sigil streaming behind her as she flies.
From above, nothing catches her eyes, but then again, the stormy clouds above have cast the surrounding land in an ashy blue shade, leaving little but the warm lighting of their atelier to be seen for miles around. Even so, a single place crosses her mind, and she angles herself sideways in the air to take off towards it.
A little place, an alcove beneath a bridge, a resting area for travellers and a shelter for shepherds. Often will their small family take picnics out there, just as their Master once used to do for them. A spot that has become most beloved amongst not just them but their entire cluster of former apprentices and masters alike—whenever they come to visit, they know where they'll be heading to eat lunch together.
Floating down, Agott parts her soles and feels the grass squelch beneath her feet, knowing that it will probably end up ruining the perfect sylph-shoe spells Coco had drawn on them for her. That isn't her priority right now, however, and she takes off running the rest of the short way towards the shadowy area beneath the bridge.
To her delight, a small silhouette is curled up on one side of it, making itself as small as can be; Agott knows that frame from how often she and Coco will gaze down at it—Qiqi, cuddled with her plushies by the fireplace or against their sides as they sit on the sofa. Clambering up onto the stone surface, Agott feels her hands scrape and graze against the old brickwork, but she doesn't hesitate for a second as she hauls herself up, breathing out with a huff.
There in the corner is her daughter, and Agott swallows hard, channelling everything inside of her to be the white-haired, thoughtful parent she chose to stay with rather than the dark-haired, pristine and regal one her blood forcefully connects her to.
“Qiqi, darling, are you going to tell me how you made it outside?” She breathes, trying to steady her panting breath from the hurry to reach this place, digging in her pockets for her quire. When she finds her ink but not her ink wand in her pockets, most likely left behind with her coat. Agott grumbles and flicks through to a simple, pre-prepared pyreball spell that she connects by plugging her opened ink bottle with her thumb, tipping it upside down before swiping the pad of skin across the page, igniting the spell. Discarding her belongings where she'd set them while drawing, she instead turns her attention elsewhere.
Now visible, huddled up against the wall, is Qiqi. Looking at her like this, it's perfectly reasonable to understand where the nickname comes from. Her likeness to her mother is so distinct; Coco, in every sense of the word, born even with her passion for magic brimming within her heart. Agott’s aspects shine through in subtler ways; her lineage as an Arklaum is so evident in her purple eyes, not to mention her curls.
“It was sunny outside, I wanted to play,” Qiqi cries, and Agott can't bring herself to waste a second more before crawling over to her daughter’s side, quickly enveloping her in a warm hug. Shimmying the small girl onto her lap, she frees her arms from her just to peel back her long cardigan, her bare arms immediately getting nipped at by the icy breeze as she wraps her knitted jacket around the girl's shivering frame while she continues rambling. “A—And I didn't wanna bother Mama, so I thought—I—I could just go out my window an’ come back, ‘n it’d be okay."
Her lips find her daughter's forehead, bringing her close to her chest where she can guarantee warmth will be, her heart overflowing whenever she's close to her or Coco. As she speaks, she makes quick work of wrapping the long cardigan around her, attaching Qiqi to her in a sort of sash and securing it around her shoulders so it won't slide off.
“Your mother and I have been worried sick trying to find you." She keeps her voice level, as calm as she can muster, but the firmness there is enough to help the child understand that what has transpired should never be repeated. “I understand you wanted to play, but it is dangerous to go outside alone. You can always just ask us, love.”
Qiqi doesn't respond to that; rather, she buries her face in Agott's chest, curled up snugly in the cardigan. It's times like these that she counts her lucky stars that Qiqi is a little smaller than average, something she inherited from herself as a child, still easy enough for her to carry her back in the sling without issue.
Kicking her legs off the side, Agott doesn't even bother to look at the soles of her shoes, already quite sure from the smudgings of conjuring ink where she's been sitting that the casting seal is gone. She will just have to run—and do that, she does. Agott takes off, dashing towards the atelier once more, an arm wrapped around her daughter's sling to keep her close and steady, while she uses the other to assist in clambering up steeper hillsides.
As the atelier comes into view, Agott feels a gasp of cool, damp air whisk into her lungs at the sight of a frantic Coco, standing outside their home, trying to get a glimpse of her wife and daughter anywhere. With a yell of her name, she alerts her to their presence and urges her back inside from afar as they approach the reassuring warmth the house emits.
The door wide open and held by Coco, Agott dashes through and skids to a stop, panting. There's already a puddle of water collecting where she stands, but she doesn't fuss about it and instead begins to carefully extract her daughter, who has been clinging to her relentlessly, from where she rests by her chest.
Before she could manage to set the girl down, two arms enveloped the pair of them in a tight hug—in their apprentice years, she had had enough of these to understand that after a certain point, there was no way of wriggling out of them. These days, she wouldn't even try to, for she likes the sparks that fly in her chest when she does.
“Thank goodness, I was so worried—” Coco rambles out, stepping back to smooth Agott's drenched curls and to cup Qiqi’s rosy cheeks. “You nearly gave me a heart attack! Where did you even go?”
With Qiqi pouty to answer, Agott takes the reins. “Our picnic spot. She didn't want to bother you about going out, so she got through her window somehow.”
Not another word to spare, Agott shivers quite violently, a chill dancing over her skeleton. Hastily, she sets down the little girl and gently urges her with a soft hand on her back towards her other mother, who crouches and opens her arms.
If there's one tendency of their daughter, if she ever does anything deemed wrong or naughty of her, she won't run or hide. If anything, it's quite the opposite; Qiqi will cling to them like glue until she's sure they're not mad anymore. Which, on one hand, helps them keep an eye on her, but their daughter is sometimes too cute to resist forgiving.
As soon as Qiqi lurches forward into Coco's embrace, Agott hums softly and turns to go fetch the link rings from the workshop. This eager little chill is spreading through her body at a pace she isn't too fond of, and the slight jog to her steps makes this all the more evident. Thankfully, Qiqi hadn't gotten too soaked, already having dried a little under the cover of the bridge while they were searching for her. Not to mention her cardigan protecting her from the worst of the storm as they ran back; Agott, however, felt the full brunt of the rain smacking against her bare forearms.
Back in her early apprentice days, Agott could never imagine sticking her neck out so far for someone. But this is her daughter, and she'd do it again as many times as it takes. The same goes for Coco, whom she has already saved and been saved by time and time again, whom she wouldn't hesitate to stand in the face of danger for. That sentiment carried over to their daughter the moment they even began talking about having a child while she was only a concept, an idea, not yet a person.
Unable to find her own link rings, Agott shivers again, grumbling as she begins to rummage roughly through Olruggio’s old drawers for his scrapped contraptions. Even now, she can't fathom why he declared so many defective, considering a good chunk of them work as intended—but for Master Olly, a seal too shoddy or a smudge of ink was enough for it to be thrown in these overflowing drawers.
One side is found, then another, except they're duplicates of the same side of the pair, so she has to toss one back in and keep rummaging. Damn this perfectionist, she's quite glad she didn't end up inheriting his tendencies. Eventually, she digs her hand in and just starts scooping out the various parts. Lids, bangles, necklaces, cups, plates, even snugstones that still drone with a faint heat as her hand shoves them aside. A ring slips onto her finger in the sea of random bits and bobs, so she pulls her hand out and inspects it. Sure enough, it's the other half she's been needing.
Both of them on her fingers, she twirls them around to face herself and presses them together, a warm air blowing a soft gale over her body. Breathing it in is like a welcome home hug, and she gives it a few seconds before unlinking them, admittedly still slightly damp, and walks briskly back to where her wife and child should be.
As she's lugging her once again cold body up the steps to the common area, Agott spies the pair cuddled up in front of the fireplace, Qiqi’s blanket shrugged over their shoulders.
Keen as ever, Coco’s head twirls around to see her form standing at the steps, smiling fondly down at the little family they've built.
“Hey, honey. Come sit by the fire, you'll catch your death." She outstretches an arm, the already small, loose blanket falling from that shoulder.
Strolling over, Agott takes her hand and kisses her knuckles before settling down on the other side of Qiqi, sandwiching her between them. Just one look at her pouty face brings a tender smile to Agott’s, knowing that Coco has probably already scolded her to the moon and back about this. Never before have her wife's words been harsh or unwarranted; always so calm with all bases covered, spoken in a way that leaves no questions to be asked. She's grateful that Coco had a good role model to base her choice words off of, always describing her mother's sterner moments with an air of understanding paired with firmness. Agott does not have the luxury of falling back on examples from her own mother, instead often defaulting to memories of Qifrey and what he would say in her shoes. These days, she doesn't even need to think of him; it comes naturally.
“Sorry, Mom," the young girl murmurs, her voice watery and on the verge of a hiccup. She drags her forearm along her face, haphazardly wiping at a runny nose. “I’m sorry.”
At first, Agott doesn't say anything, setting the two link rings on her fingers, clicking them together in front of Qiqi. The air that exudes from the casting seal inscribed into the metal immediately creates a velvety mist as the remaining rain is turned to vapour.
“Qikian,” Agott starts, exhaling a long sigh as she parts the rings and slips them into her pocket. “You never have to feel like you can't come and speak to us. We never, ever want you to feel like that.” Her hand finds her head of meadow-green curls, looking down to see two eyes so representative of her own, with a swirl of amber in the middle – a touch of Coco in the midst, something she wouldn't want any other way. “We'd much rather know where you are and that you're safe, rather than have to hunt for you when things go awry.”
Even if Qikian doesn't understand the last word, the tone and context are enough to convey it. It's close to night by now, evening bleeding into the inky darkness of dusk.
Their daughter doesn't say much else, sniffling and quivering with barely veiled grief in-between them. Another aspect of her younger self’s personality that she has inherited, a poor habit of Agott’s from way back when that stems from being made to believe that children should be seen and not heard. She's glad she has two influences who show her each and every day that her natural nature doesn't have to prevail in that way, and she can talk to them as much as she’d like. Today, however, that quiet side has obviously prevailed, and that's quite alright. No matter whether she wants to talk to them or not, the pair of them will be her words—they will wait as long as it takes until she's ready.
In contrast, she gets what she does instead from Coco. A woman driven by actions, to do instead of say, to ensure that everyone is shown the length of her love instead of just being told so. Qikian shuffles closer to Agott before climbing into her lap silently. As soon as she's settled, bundled against her chest like she was while wrapped in her cardigan, she curls around her in a full-body hug.
“Are you all right? Not hurt at all?” Agott checks, her voice quiet, as delicate as a feather being brushed by an ear.
“No,” Qikian sniffles.
“Cold?”
“No.” Qikian shakes her head, her face pressed near her clavicle.
“That's good. That's all we want; and you know never to do this again, right?” Managing to pull Qikian away enough to see her face, Agott uses her thumbs to smear her tears across her cherubic cheeks, rosy red nose and swollen eyes. When her daughter gives a nod of affirmation, she continues. “Say, why don't you go fetch Mr Owlcat? Maybe I can make him do a dance for us.”
A newfound brightness alights in her eyes as Qikian takes off in a clumsy, childlike dash towards her room, a few thumps as she bashes into things in her avid excitement heard along the way. Agott chuckles, watching her go until she's out of sight and earshot.
The first thing she reaches for is Coco, her hand finding her shoulder, bridging the gap between them by scooting over to her. Her wife has her face in her hands, their old master's little spectacles set down on the rug beside her.
“Sorry,” Coco tries to laugh, and despite the wateriness in her voice, the chuckle is undeniably wry. “I just got such a shock.”
“I know,” Agott shushes her, nuzzling the bridge of her nose against her wife’s temple. “Easy now, darling. She's completely fine. A little cold, but perfectly fine.”
“Anyone wandering nearby could have seen her all by herself." Coco looks up, her face so reminiscent of Qikian’s, down to the rosy cheeks and nose, and the freckles dappled across her skin. “Sorry, I just— I can't shake that feeling. I don’t know what I’d do if something ever happened to her. If we call for her she usually comes running, but she didn't, and you weren't here, and I didn't know what to do,”
Her arms wrap around Coco as she rambles, pulling her close, her wife's head finding the crook of her neck.
“Breathe, Coco.” She instructs, palming the back of her head. “You've no reason to apologise, so stop that. She knows not to do it again.”
True to her words, whenever they are forced to speak sternly to their daughter regarding something, she listens to every word and takes it seriously. They're endlessly glad that she harbours such a trait, meaning they don't have to constantly recycle the same point.
Turning her head, Coco catches Agott's lips in a tender kiss, pressing their foreheads together as they part.
“I don't know how you manage to stay so calm,” Coco laughs, more heart to it this time as Agott wipes away a stray tear threatening to carve a path down her wife’s scarred cheek. “I was going crazy by myself.”
In truth, Agott wasn't calm, not for a second; she just finds it quite difficult to show it on her face when someone else before her is already panicked. As a result, she tends to take on a level-headed role in moments of desperation for Coco, while she does the same for her when their positions are switched.
“I would've been the exact same in your shoes. Also, i'm taking a look at the window in her room first thing tomorrow morning.” Agott tells her, taking both of Coco's hands in hers so that she can kiss her knuckles and keep her own hands occupied. “Maybe she should sleep between us tonight. I don't think either of us wants her out of our sight at the moment.”
“That’s a good idea,” Coco shakes her head, smiling so bittersweetly. Prying her hands carefully from Agott's hold, she moves them to the side of her wife's face, cupping her cheeks. “You're an angel," she says, pushing a stray curl behind her ear for her. “I don't know what I'd do without you, sweetheart.”
Hearing the pitter-patter of hasted steps coming their way, Agott dips forward and kisses Coco. “The feeling is incredibly mutual, my love.”
A little squeak alerts them to the sound of their daughter’s reentrance, always seeming to freeze whenever she sees them kiss, even though they've never been discreet about it. The girl is barely visible over the top of the big owlcat plush, once belonging to Agott when she was younger but now passed down to their daughter for her love.
“Bring him here, baby.” Coco holds out a hand, which Qikian takes with trepidation, as if she could still be in trouble, treading on eggshells. She passes the owlcat to Agott, who has procured her palm quire and stationery so she can quickly scrawl a spell to puppeteer the plush to dance.
Across from her, Qikian settles in Coco's lap, and as Agott closes the ring on the spell and glances out the window across the room at the darkness beyond, the sky looks like crushed scalewolf shells sprinkled into a bottle of ink. It has to be way past their daughter's bedtime by now, but as the owlcat begins to prance around in an awkward, uncoordinated dance, she looks to Qikian, who is beaming and bubbling with laughter. It's so contagious, the room brimming with glee despite the horrible event earlier in the day, and Agott decides that maybe just this once, she can stay up a little past her bedtime.