Archive of Our Own

It had been a passing remark, all things considered. If Coco had anywhere else to direct her attention at the time, she would've forgotten about it well before dinnertime; but she didn't—she couldn't—because, well...

"If I must pick the lesser of two devils... I'd rather see you in a noblewoman's getup."

It was frankly impossible to ignore that.

It wasn't even anything sensible, either.

What sort of conversations were Professor Qifrey and Olruggio having in the middle of the day, in the latter’s tower, alone together? They certainly couldn't be talking about the weather, or what to buy come their next supply run in Kalhn. It drove Coco up in her own head for the better part of the afternoon, even past bedtime.

She laid in her cot cocooned in her blanket, thinking, and thinking, and thinking some more; as if that fleeting comment she had overheard was an incessant bug buzzing around her ears.

Perhaps... Professor Qifrey was teasing about his poor eyesight again. Coco wouldn't put it past him. His wounds were yet fresh, and his heart still awfully tender. Though he was free of the Silverwood Tree, old habits remained stubbornly... stubborn. But why would Olruggio indulge in such banter? If Coco were to guess, he was simply being gentle, just as he always was with Qifrey.

A noblewoman's getup...

Well, Coco could certainly help with that! It'd be a simple project! Her experience as a seamstress at her mother's side could be put to use in this bizarre yet honourable venture—why, it could even be a surprise!

Yes, indeed. It was a most brilliant idea, one as magnificent as a clear sunrise. She could already imagine the finished garment in her hands... Of course, she would need Professor Qifrey's measurements, and fabrics, and proper tools—but it was a project she was set to start on as soon as possible! Tomorrow would be perfect, even. The scissors and rulers in her room would suffice, and she had already ample space for cutting fabric. Oh, and she supposed she could put some of her clothes she'd grown out of to good use.

Suffice it to say, Coco had barely gotten even a wink of sleep that night.

"Professor Qifrey! Professor Qifrey!"

Days she had spent mocking up a pattern on paper, stuck together with generous heaps of glue, and now she needed a proper model to refine her measurements. Who better else than the very person of which this entire project was dedicated to?

Well, him, along with Olruggio, of course.

Whatever it was Qifrey was watching by the furnace, he placed it aside in favour of turning toward his apprentice’s voice.

"There is no need to yell, Coco. I can hear just fine," he teased, and he certainly had the wherewithal to laugh as the pitter-patter of Coco's footsteps drew closer. "Now, what's got you so excited?"

Despite herself, Coco held the mock-up as high as she could on the tips of her toes, though it reached only her teacher's shoulders. "I'm making you a new dress! Could you try on the mock-up? Please, please, please?"

"A new dress?" Qifrey seemed to stew on that for a moment, as if a spontaneous gift of any sort was beyond his comprehension. The crinkle of all that paper had certainly caught his interest, but he spared Coco a fond smile nonetheless, even if he must only be seeing a blurry mess of colours and shapes. "I don't mind, but... is there an occasion I've missed out on? Whatever brought this up?"

"Oh, well..." Coco's words fell silent as she puzzled about it all. Perhaps speaking plainly wouldn't be the best choice; it'd be like rubbing salt into a fresh wound. Also, she hadn't forgotten the countless reminders of how rude snooping was—even if she hadn't overheard on purpose...

"I just thought you would like a new garment, Professor Qifrey." That was no lie. Coco had it in her heart that a good set of clothes could make any gloomy soul shine bright. "After all, you know the saying, 'the clothes make the man'! It's about time you wore something other than those robes."

Qifrey stared for a long, long while. He blinked only once, slowly, much like a contented brushbug. "Hmm. What a coincidence. Olly said something quite similar."

In the silence that fell, he didn't allow Coco to stumble over her next words. The professor instead reached a gentle hand over, finding itself upon the mock-up before inching over to rest upon his student's head.

"Very well. Though I cannot appreciate your work in full, it means the world to me that you've bothered at all," he said.

That was how Coco had managed to drag her teacher into her room—after putting away the pot left cooking by the furnace, of course. She counted herself fortunate that Agott was studying outside for the day, as well. With her mock-up slung over her arm and Qifrey's hand grasped like a tether, she guided him through the atelier and set him by the full-length mirror once the door was shut.

By the time Coco had set all her tools on her desk, she found her teacher swaying on his feet whilst he stared at everything, and nothing, through a half-lidded eye. Qifrey had tipped his head toward her direction, as if he cared more for the commotion she kicked up than whatever his vision could supply.

Quickly, then, Coco dragged her chair over toward him. "Here, hold onto this!" She guided the professor's hand unto the sturdy backrest before she began tugging with his robe. "Just need to take this off..."

The motions were familiar, well-practiced, and soothing. Setting aside Qifrey's robe, his sash, even his shoes, stepping onto the chair to fit the mock-up ever-so-carefully over his head... The silence was never left to sit for too long. Every action, every motion, was announced aloud before Coco followed through, whether it be asking her teacher to raise his arm before taking his wrist to adjust it herself, or something else mundane like holding out the end of a measuring tape.

"You needn't be so thorough, Coco. Anything practical will suit me just fine," Qifrey said.

As if! "Just because you can't see very well any more, doesn't mean you can't have nice clothes," Coco chided with all her indignant heart. "Trust me, Professor Qifrey, I'll make sure you feel every bit as whimsical as I do with magic."

"That's..."

"Mhmm!" A pen's furious scratches along her notebook followed her focussed stare as she mumbled wistfully to herself. "So whimsical..."

For what it was worth, Qifrey laughed oh-so fondly. "While I certainly do not mind a bit of flair, I meant to say that I would rather not make a chore of dressing myself. I'm still adjusting to my new everyday life; having more buttons than I have fingers will get tiring, I'm afraid."

Ah, yes. Yes indeed. Naturally, obviously, certainly. 

"Something simple, but still pretty," Coco declared. The ideas were flowing afresh in her mind's eye. "How about... big sleeves, but they cinch, so you won't have to worry about them getting in the way, and a skirt cut just above your ankles so you won't trip on them? Oh! And it'll be easy to put on! No buttons, no lace, no fancy corsetry!"

"That sounds lovely."

"Mhmm!" After all, it was a seamstress' duty to attend to all their client's needs. Coco shall merely work with what she had.

Once the measurements were done and the fitting sorted out to Professor Qifrey's exact desires, Coco had peeled the paper mock-up carefully—carefully—off him, pins and chalk and all. It hadn't escaped her notice how still he kept, either. Qifrey held onto the chair's backrest once his arms were out of the sleeves, while his other hand soon began to pat down his ruffled hair once Coco had hopped off of the seat and placed her work upon her desk.

"I don't suppose you'll need to visit Kalhn for some fabric shopping?" he asked.

With her pen just a hair's breadth away from paper, Coco peered through her hair from where she stood crouched over her desk. "I... was actually thinking of using my old clothes as secondhand material—but if you'd rather not, that's fine, too!"

"Ah, no, no, you misunderstand. I'm not exactly picky about that," Qifrey assured; and to prove his point, he shrugged his shoulders as he fiddled with the complicated straps of his turtleneck. He cast his eye toward his feet, if only to hide whatever his expression may betray, "It's not as if I don my usual attire for no reason, anyway. What I meant was that I am in no part a master in the art of clothesmaking. That is where your expertise far outshines me, Coco. If you need anything at all, you need only tell me."

How kind of him—just as he always was. It brought Coco an immense relief, a weight off her shoulders she hadn't realised she had taken on. The gentle smile shone her way was a comfort she dearly missed, something lighthearted, something real, something that withheld nothing.

Despite Qifrey having served his purpose here, neither he nor Coco saw fit to move from where they sat and stood. Perhaps the companionable silence served its own brand of comfort, but Coco never really was shy with having an audience whilst she worked, and it seemed that her teacher was content with listening to pen scratches, crinkling paper, quiet humming, odd musings, for clockmarks on end.

"Muslin, wool, cotton lining..." The shopping list went on and on. If Professor Qifrey was impartial to new materials, then Coco supposed there was no harm in starting from scratch. There came a warm, fuzzy feeling in her heart with spoiling her teacher after everything they'd been through. Receiving a nice gift would do wonders for him.

And, if Coco were to be so bold, any excuse to indulge in once-old routines was, in itself, a wonderful gift.

"Are you sure you won't be needin' us?"

"Yes, Olly. No need to fret."

"I am absolutely frettin'."

To be fair, Olruggio had always been prone to that, anyway. He had just been a lot more shameless with his minding these past couple of months. Nevertheless, Coco had Professor Qifrey's hand grasped tightly, whilst he braced his cane oh-so carefully with the other. The laughter that fell from his smile wavered like receding tides, till he was left staring Olruggio's way.

"Coco just needs some new materials from the garment district," he explained. "You go on with the other girls to Mister Nolnoa’s, alright? We won't be long."

"We might be long," Coco said.

"We might be long," Qifrey corrected just as quickly.

If Olruggio had anything to say to that, he stayed his tongue instead. The sigh that left his chest was long and deep, and he slumped his shoulders in utter defeat.

"Very well. We'll come find you once we're finished," he said. "You two best make sure not to get yourselves into any trouble this time, aight?"

Rather than stoking the flame, both the professor and his troublemaker student nodded fervently, as if that was as good as any promise. It wasn't till they separated from the others when Coco became all the more careful with guiding her teacher along the narrower, rougher pathways.

"Careful down this ledge, Professor," she warned. Her footsteps were pronounced against the glowing stones beneath their shoes. Magical as they were, they served little use to the nearly-blind.

Gently, slowly, Coco guided her teacher's cane down the crooked, brittle ledge. It wasn't anything too steep, nothing anyone would care to notice on the day-to-day, yet being mindful never hurt.

Qifrey had closed his eye as they continued down the quiet path. At least there wasn't a bustling crowd to steer him awry today—unlike the last times...

"I must admit, it still feels quite disconcerting knowing where I am, while being unable to know for certain."

That was normal, wasn't it? Losing sight wasn't an easy adjustment to make; and to a world of witches who held little regard for the flawed, even the most well-adjusted would find themselves frequently inconvenienced.

Every noise, every sound, every voice, Qifrey listened on intently, walking first with his cane and his student as his guide whilst he mused to himself.

"I can smell the produce in the markets, along with... the shopkeepers yelling their wares. Are we at the garment district yet?"

"We'll be there soon."

"Hmm."

A few more steps, a moment's silence.

"Are we there yet?"

"Soon~" Coco could see where this was going. That impish smile was clear as day.

For what it mattered, the road ahead was smooth. Just a few winding turns up the slope before they would come across a river of townsfolk in the main path. The lights were brilliant there, even in the unbidden day, and the commotions and conversations wafting about must certainly be clear to attentive ears. The more they walked, the more Coco anticipated Professor Qifrey's inquisitive hum once again.

"Are we there yet?" he asked oh-so wistfully.

"Nope!"

A few steps, a few taps of a cane, a moment's silence.

"How about now?"

Coco hid her chuckles behind her hand. "Soon, Professor Qifrey. Just count to thirty."

Perhaps that alone was an ominous premonition, for Qifrey tipped his head aside. His single eye peered ahead toward nothing for nary an instant before he closed it shut again.

"Alright." Despite the slightest wavering in his voice, the professor left his fate up to his student. "One... two... three!—"

Suddenly, without the slightest warning, Coco picked up her pace and dashed through the pathway with her poor teacher in tow. Much like a cat running off with its leash, she dragged Qifrey down the rest of the journey whilst his yells were drowned out by her exuberant laughter. It startled the crowd easily enough to part, giving ample way to Coco's careless sprinting till the shop bell jingled to welcome her arrival through the door.

She skidded to a stop just as swiftly as she braced the wall before Qifrey could knock her over. Her poor, poor teacher flailed about with none of his usual composure. He panted breathlessly whilst he sank his knees, as if he couldn't bear to be carried off any further into the unknown. He let his cane clatter to the floor, his hair a right mess, his spectacles askew.

Admittedly, Coco felt a tinge of guilt for terrorising him like that—but it was all in good fun. 

At least... it was in her eyes..

"We're here!" she declared to an otherwise empty shop.

Qifrey could only clutch his rumpled cloak as a frazzled mother would clutch her pearls. "I need a minute..."

Well, a minute eventually passed, and he looked no more composed than before. Coco hovered over her teacher, casting a shadow of worry over his ghostly pallor. "Are you alright, Professor Qifrey?"

There came... a rather hefty sigh. "Spare me a warning next time, will you? I fear that my heart can't take such a scare."

"Sorry!"

"It's quite alright, Coco. I just... need to sit down for a bit." Ironically, the professor fumbled for his cane before he propped it against the floor to stand. Coco was quick to steady his arm as he climbed back on his feet. He was ushered to the nearest chair by a shelf piled high with wools, where the window did not impede with any glaring sunlight.

"Just sit right here," Coco said, "I'll look around and bring over some fabrics for you to feel. I won't be long!"

"Alright." Alas, Qifrey's voice was all but a whisper by the time he finished. Coco had already darted herself over toward the shelves of cotton and linens. Bolts of it lined and sorted high, tagged and written down with the finer details only a seamstress could decipher.

Coco took her time with choosing a generous batch. When it came to the art of dressmaking, crafting a piece from the ground up was a meticulous task. A seamstress should take into account their client’s needs and wants, and when it came to her teacher, certain needs were under no negotiation.

By the hour she returned, she had in her arms plenty of fabrics to choose from. They were set against the wall, leaning gently unto the sturdy chair Professor Qifrey remained all this while—and it seemed the shopkeeper had offered him a cup of tea, for the teapot resting atop the side table with a plate of biscuits remained untouched, unnoticed, whilst he swirled his cup idly.

"Coco?"

"It's me." Coco brushed aside the obvious questions and plucked the teacup gently away. It was placed upon the table with a clack of fine china against oak before she picked out the first bolt of cotton sateen. It was dyed the softest, buttery shade of pale yellow, akin to the yolks of fresh daisies.

Though the colour itself likely mattered nothing to Qifrey, he was given a generous swatch to brush along with his calloused fingertips.

"It feels like... bedding," he hummed.

"Because it's soft and breathable," Coco explained. "It's more practical to wear during warmer seasons, but you can always put on a few extra layers when the cold comes in."

"Interesting. Well, so long as it isn't glitter, or rhinestones. Those are quite tedious to clean," Qifrey teased oh-so humourlessly.

"Awww, don't you have any preferences?" Everyone had the right to be picky about the clothes they wore; be it practical or luxurious, sturdy or cheaply-made, there was always something one leaned toward. "Let's start with an easy question, then. What's your favourite colour, Professor Qifrey?"

A slow blink, culminating to an arched brow and squinted eye. "Does that matter at all?"

"Of course it does!" Colour was just like magic; the very life itself, just as a spell was akin to a completed garment. "It should make you feel good! No one has to judge, and it isn't like picking out a colour will make finding good materials any more difficult."

For Qifrey's benefit, Coco had already picked out the best quality she could find—that still tread lightly on the wallet. Though this shop housed more of the basics, she had managed to find a few intricate, patterned fabrics and weaves that were relatively easy to work with. All that remained was her teacher's verdict.

"Then, let's try... blue. A deep yet subtle shade of blue, like Olly's eyes." A quaint smile settled on Qifrey at that, as if he were stewing in his own thoughts.

There was a joke in there, somewhere. Coco just knew it.

And she was all-too happy to play along.

"I can work with that." The ideas were flowing in like rushing winds. Coco could envision it now: a most perfect gift that shall amaze all who see it.

For what it was worth, they had just stepped out of the shop in time to catch a few familiar faces heading toward them. It was Tetia's voice that cut through the crowd's ruckus, and Agott's keen eyes that scouted Qifrey amidst the sea of heads and hats. Olruggio needed only spare the neatly-wrapped package in Coco's arms a glance before he turned his attention to Qifrey.

"All done, are you?" Neither needed to answer, for he next asked a most perplexing question, "What happened to you?"

Perhaps it was the professor's cloak that sat dishevelled on his shoulders, the way his spectacles still remained lopsided on the bridge of his nose, or the thin sheen of sweat that stuck his fringe over half his face. Nevertheless, Qifrey seemed to brighten up upon the mere sound of Olruggio's voice.

In fact, he reached a blind hand over toward his direction as he sighed with far-too exaggerated a plea.

"Oh, Olly. Please, Olly, take me away. This child will be the end of me."

"Hey!" How rude! Coco had been nothing but amazing. Why was her teacher playing up the role of a shaken damsel?

At least Olruggio didn't seem to care—well, he did, very much so—rather, he paid Qifrey's act no mind. He simply met his searching hand and pulled him into welcoming arms. The relieved sigh that Qifrey let out was palpable, and it did not go unnoticed how fiercely he clung to Olruggio's cloak as if he were his sole anchor amidst a dark sea.

Coco wrapped her own arms around her package just a little tighter.

"A-anyway, now that we've got all we need, how about we sit down someplace for lunch?" Tetia said.

"Not too many veggies," Richeh demanded.

"Nothing spicy, too!"

"How about something light?" Agott wondered.

"Oi oi, if everyone's got a picky palate then there's nothin' we can eat together," Olruggio chided. "May as well head home and make our own lunch."

"Awww..." The collective groans of utter disappointment was akin to kittens being denied a treat. Perhaps, were it any other day, Qifrey wouldn't have pressed on to placate his apprentices with reason, but he tugged at Olruggio's sleeve to argue instead.

"Now, now, there is no harm in having a treat every now and then. When was the last time we had lunch out in the city, anyway?"

"Even so, we'll be hard pressed to find someplace everyone can agree to."

"Then, we'll leave it up to a game." Qifrey raised a fist toward someone, anyone, everyone. "Rock, paper, scissors. The winner gets to decide what we eat. Is that fair?"

Apparently, it was, for he received no argument. Everyone was just as quick to pass the rounds before their hungry bellies could complain any more.

"Rock, paper, scissors, go!"

"Rock!"

"Scissors—aww!"

"Next!"

"Rock, paper, scissors, go!"

"Paper."

"Scissors!"

On and on and on; it was over in a flash, till all that was left were Qifrey and Olruggio. It was merely a coincidence that the children had all lost the earlier rounds, yet neither witch spared any mercy when the rules were already agreed to.

Except, well, the possibility of what may emerge.

Richeh had turned toward Coco to speak her mind. "If Professor Qifrey wins, how would he decide where to eat?"

Coco pressed her finger before her lips. "Shhh!"

However, it seemed that it was heard by all, even if Richeh hadn't meant any offence.

Olruggio sighed. He held up his fist as Tetia began to count without further ado.

"Rock, paper, scissors, go!"

"Rock."

"...

"......

".........

"...Scissors..."

"You lost on purpose!" Noise practically exploded into a cacophony right then. Not even Olruggio and Agott could help scrutinising Qifrey whilst he held up two lost fingers.

"Ah... I wasn't paying attention," he said with all the nonchalance of a careless witch. 

Richeh hadn't believed him for a second. "Was it what I said?"

"Hey, hey, it's alright, Professor Qifrey!" Tetia's hands were flying everywhere, anywhere, placating a poor teacher who barely noticed them. "Why don't we... head over to the bakery and get some rose apple tarts? That's your favourite, right? Right?"

"We can look for a cafe for some tea and cakes," Agott said. "A place to rest our legs should do."

"Or—or... we could go home and cook something, after all?" Coco said. "The noise might be getting a bit much..."

"Aight, enough, you lot." Olruggio pulled Qifrey closer toward himself; nothing more than a gentle tug. His eyes were fierce, his frown more... miffed than truly exasperated. "Winner decides, no questions asked, and I say we all head to the caff. Move along, now."

It was a short journey, all things considered. Despite the heavy silence that settled amongst them, there wasn't any tension hanging over their heads like guillatines. Rather, it was a single file trailing behind Olruggio's shadow like lost little ducklings, with their tassels bouncing atop their pointed caps—and a long strip of black ribbon snaking behind Qifrey's back as he shuffled along. His cane was held tightly against his chest and hidden beneath his cloak. 

Were it not for the steady hand placed firmly at his back, he may have stumbled a little more here and there. The pathway wasn't the most well-maintained, after all. A sharp incline toward the markets led Olruggio into wrapping his arm around Qifrey's waist before guiding him up the uneven slope.

"Careful," he warned, quietly enough to not rouse much alarm.

"I am," Qifrey assured.

One could smell the rich tea and crumpets long before seeing it. Now that it was well past lunch, they hadn't any issues with finding a table fit for them, either. The doors were welcoming, and everyone took their seats as they always would—with Coco and Agott nestled side-by-side with Tetia sitting at the aisle seat, just as Olruggio cornered Qifrey into the booth with Richeh at his other side.

The menus were passed around, and the children were quick to become engrossed in the art partnered with the dishes listed in neat caligraphy. As for Olruggio, he hardly parsed it a glance—and, well, apart from the fact that Qifrey was holding his sideways, he seemed rather content with deferring to the witch by his side.

"What will you have, Olly?"

"Usually, I'd start with a pot of Willowgrape Tea. It's not too heavy on the taste. Addin' honey will sweeten it up as well."

"I guess that'll be what we have. And what about... rockfish and chips?"

"Of course."

"Oh, oh! Professor Olruggio, can we have these bacon-wrapped basjoorooms?"

"Some husk potato dumplings, too, please."

"And stew to share around the table!"

"Aye..." A grumble left the poor witch, to which everyone found greatly amusing. "Are you sure you can finish all that for a late lunch? What are we goin' to do about dinner, then?"

"I suppose an early supper will do," Qifrey said.

"And who's gonna cook it?" Olruggio asked.

The professor shrugged, blinking his one eye as if he had heard an absurd question. "Why, myself, of course. Haven't you got a deadline to meet? You've been working yourself to the bone these past few weeks."

"Unimportant," and yet, Olruggio hadn't put up much of a fight about it. Perhaps he had wanted to keep the peace—perhaps he was content to let Qifrey do as he pleased. It wasn't as if he needed a minder all hours of the day, anyway; least of all at home, in the atelier.

Coco knew there was something strange amiss. She needn't stare to catch the subtle glances Olruggio parsed to a blind eye that paid him no mind. Once before, sitting at Professor Qifrey's blindspot was oft an... inconsiderate scare, but that couldn't be helped now. It was why Qifrey preferred a quieter nook more often than not, someplace to rest his ears and hands and feet after another exhausting day.

After their orders were placed—skimmed down to the necessities and to what they could reasonably finish—it wasn't long before idle conversation wafted like the gentle fragrance of steeped Willowgrapes.

It was, in essence, a perfectly normal close to their trip: leaving by windowway with their bellies full and their arms bearing groceries, supplies, and secret packages. Daylight had long begun to wane, basking the atelier in a warm, golden-washed dimness upon their return. Everyone had left to their rooms peacefully, taking with them their supplies divvied up amongst each other.

By the time Coco had dropped her package unto her desk, she hadn't even the energy to sort it all out.

For courtesy's sake—and to keep the element of surprise—Coco had gathered everything she'd done up for her gift and moved it to a spare room further down the apprentices’ hall. It may be dusty and damp, with a few creepy insects lurking within every shadow, but everything was coming together.

Agott had been curious the very next morning, for what other reason could Coco be sneaking away with a hefty box of cloth, scissors, papers, pins, and needles? Well, for a seamstress, such things were a dime a dozen in any workshop, but she had given her roommate an impish explanation.

"It's for Professor Qifrey; and maybe Professor Olruggio, too."

Agott had stared for perhaps a touch too long, but she hadn't pursued it any further than that.

It probably wasn't because of the paper mock-up placed oh-so carefully yet nonchalantly atop the box. Even the ignorant could piece together that it was no magical research, but...

Oh, whatever.

Coco should think up of a real gift for Agott, too.

For now, however, her time was split between the magical and mundane—be it practicing spells or cutting fabric, she spared no idle thought, putting in her all with every minute detail. The art of dressmaking demanded hours upon hours of precision, and without the aid of a sewing machine, Coco eventually found herself in a conundrum that looked no brighter than a dead end.

"I should really get around to dusting this room," Qifrey huffed as he dragged a finger over an empty shelf. He rubbed away the thick dust that coated his calloused skin. "Is this where you've been working, Coco?"

"Just someplace private," she said. "Can't have anyone looking, after all! Especially Professor Olruggio."

"And what does Olly have to do with this?"

A mischievous grin fell upon a mischievous witch. Her eyes darted about as if there was a ghost in their midst, but all there was were impish scenarios that raced through her head.

"He'll be surprised, is all," she waved her teacher off without so much as a proper explanation. "Don't tell him, alright?"

Qifrey certainly needn't much convincing. It was as if the very prospect of keeping a harmless secret was enticing enough for the frogfish to bite.

"Very well. I shall keep quiet on this." The smile that bloomed on his face could hardly be smothered by a polite hand.

Fitting the garment over Qifrey's head went about as smoothly as before—without much ceremony apart from hopping unto the desk to reach his head. Coco went about with pinning up a few adjustments, pinching the seams, trimming the hems, fastening the front with a loose sash tied into a simple bow...

What they had now was... a skeleton, more than a finished dress, but that was par for the course at this stage. Coco hadn't thought of any embellishments she could add.

"Alright," she took a deep breath before hopping back to the floor. "How does this feel, Professor Qifrey? Is anything too tight, too loose?"

For a fair while, Qifrey lifted his arms to test the give, ever careful to not break the delicate stitches connecting the sleeves to the shoulder panel. He fiddled with the hems fitted to his wrists, running his fingers down the patterned fabric that roused his intrigue.

"Is this... embroidery?"

"More or less." It was closer to a specific weave in the fabric itself, rather than actual embroidery sewn in by hand or machine. "It's just a simple pinstripe, Professor Qifrey. It's tricky to work with, but trust me, you'll look great in it."

"I never doubted you," he said oh-so gently. "I just hope that you aren't wearing yourself thin with this project."

"It's fine." So long as Coco was having fun, she hadn't much care for the time it took. If anything, this was becoming just as exciting as learning a new spell. "Here, Professor Qifrey, can you bend down a little?"

Thankfully, he hadn't donned his pointed cap, but he remained careful to not knock into anything as he did as he was asked. Coco placed her hand atop her teacher's head to tug him down a little more...

"Does the dress pull too tightly at the back?" she asked.

"No, but I fear that I may be getting on in age."

Hilarious.

Nevertheless, Coco helped her teacher onto the nearby chaise once they had taken the dress off. The pillows may be a bit worn and dusty, but Qifrey hadn't complained even once. He seemed quite at ease to linger whilst Coco went back to her alterations, just like before.

If anything, having a watchful eye pointed in her general direction wasn't... well, Coco couldn't lie that it was particularly comforting—especially when Professor Qifrey happened to burn holes into the back of her skull despite his utter lack of attention—but it wasn't his fault, anyway. She didn’t mind, yet it wasn’t something she could ignore. And as the first clockmark passed, it wasn't boredom that steered his gaze anywhere, either.

It was the lack of it that eventually motioned Coco away from her work. The needle she had threaded into the fabric paused in its step as she glanced past her shoulder.

"Uhm, Professor Qifrey?" Her voice was soft, merely a whisper amidst the midday silence, but her tentativeness vanished once she came upon the sight of her teacher fast asleep on the chaise.

It was akin to spotting a wild pegasus in the forest; a rare and precious moment she could count with one hand the amount of times she had witnessed it.

Quietly—oh-so quietly—Coco stood from her desk and tip-toed toward the slumbering witch. Not a sound was uttered, though Qifrey was breathing softly into his own fringe. He laid across the chaise with his legs propped atop the armrest, a pillow nestled in his arms, and his spectacles slanted from how he rested against the other armrest.

At least he looked comfortable.

Perhaps a proper bed would be better for him, but Coco hadn't the heart, nor the strength, to move him; and she certainly wasn't going to wake him up just to ask him to take his nap elsewhere.

Although, it'd be just careless of her to leave him like this...

Despite herself, Coco went about with clearing the desk. She stuffed all her fabrics and tools back into its box and kept her spare needles in a tin. Then, with a... composed and mindful haste, she scurried out to seek out Olruggio in his tower.

"What is it, Coco?" The witch hadn't even turned to face her when she slipped past the door left ajar. She could overhear his murmurings as he scratched the back of his neck. "Please don't let it be somethin' on fire again..."

"Professor Qifrey fell asleep." For what it was worth, that seemed to be wonderful news compared to whatever Olruggio was dreading. It gave him pause, turning his attention right toward Coco at once and revealing an open book nestled in the crook of his elbow and an idle pen in his hand.

"Did he, now? Best to not bother him, then. He needs the rest."

"Uhm, I don't think it's good for him to sleep in a dusty room..." nor was it possibly good to sleep in a chaise too small for him, either...

Despite the weary sigh Olruggio let out, he fixed his pen to the book and closed it. "Very well. Where is the bloke?"

For all of Coco's enthusiasm, he didn't seem at all hurried to follow along. Olruggio had taken his time gathering a stuffed brushbug and quilt before joining Coco back across the atelier.

When the door to the empty, dusty room creaked back open, they found Qifrey exactly as he was. The silence continued to waft like the subtle sweetness of honeyed tea, and from the windows were warm beams of sunlight cast upon the floor, catching stray bits of dust like fluttering snow.

Olruggio strode over with careful, precise steps. He tugged at the pillow in Qifrey's arms and replaced it with the stuffed brushbug. A heavy sigh was breathed unto the soft fur, to which the witch carded a calloused hand through snow-laden hair. He took off Qifrey's spectacles and placed them into his pocket. Then, he laid over the quilt ever-so-gently over him to not kick up a cloud of dust.

It was a delicate procedure, though not exactly tense. Coco watched as Olruggio gathered her teacher up into his arms with a hefty grunt. Perhaps it was the sudden movement, or the familiar voice, but Qifrey stirred because of it; all to be met with such soothing words.

"Go back to sleep, love. I'm takin' you to bed."

What else was a dazed mind to do? The slumbering witch fluttered his lashes, yet not once did he open his eye; nor did his loose lips possess the wherewithal to respond coherently. 

"Okay..."

As with all things fun and exciting, it lasted for but a blink of an eye. Coco had only just finished up the last few pieces of the puzzle before evening descended in a wash of golden light.

There was a knock on the door just as she snipped away the extra thread, and the shadow soon cast into the room was a familiar shape.

"Have you been here all day again, Coco?"

"Professor Qifrey!" What perfect timing. Coco drummed her fingers atop the desk as she waved her teacher over. "Come here, come here! I'm finally done!"

"That sounds lovely, Coco, but everyone's waiting on you for dinner," Qifrey chided without an ounce of vexation. "Come along. We wouldn't want the food to go cold."

Oh, well...

"Later, then," Coco sighed.

"Actually, Olly and I have our own plans this evening, so we'll be off soon. I was just going to get ready." 

Even perfecter!

"Somewhere? Somewhere outside?" If Coco's enthusiasm hadn't been clear enough, then her hopping about must have surely caught on. "Are you and Professor Olruggio going out on a picnic? A date?"

Not even that composed smile could mask Qifrey's true feelings. It was the faintest warmth in his pale complexion that answered all Coco needed. "Perhaps."

"Oh, you are!" How romantic! She could envision it in her mind's eye so perfectly: a beautiful, star-lit picnic just for two, sat amongst an open field in the Downs without another soul in sight. There would be hot tea, sweet cakes, quiet company, intimate conversations...

"It's nothing too exciting," Qifrey said. "Olly simply wants some time alone."

"'Alone', with you?" That remark was left unsaid, but Coco certainly raised her brow to match her knowing grin.

"Then, why not surprise him now?" she asked instead. "It'll be fun, won't it? Just imagine: walking down to stairs to meet him in the common room and hearing his reaction to seeing you in a beautiful dress... It'll be magical!"

"I am not so certain about that. Olly doesn't really care for such things as my attire."

"But we can wow him!"

"Will we?" Now, why did Professor Qifrey sound so doubtful.

Were Coco any bolder, she would've retorted something along the lines of, "Of course we will. It's you, after all, Professor Qifrey," but some things were best left unsaid, for actions spoke far louder than assurances ever could.

At least... that was what Coco believed.

"Just trust me, Professor." She took her teacher's sleeve and urged him just a step inside to shut the door. "This will be amazing!"

And how could Qifrey not indulge her? 

"Very well," he sighed, "but we should be quick, lest you'll have nothing but cold leftovers."

Yes. Yes, indeed.

That, and an exasperated Professor Olruggio, Coco reckoned.

"Oi, Qifrey, have you gotten lost?" Olruggio called out in exasperation.

His voice echoed throughout the atelier, not exactly loud, but it carried down the halls like stray winds nonetheless. His footsteps were firm, if a little hurried; heavy with both purpose and a healthy bit of apprehension.

Coco had made sure to find him in the common room, just as the other girls walked in to investigate the commotion.

With an air of innocence played up for hasty eyes, she stopped him right in his tracks before he could wander off into realms unknown. "Professor Olruggio! Are you looking for someone?"

Perhaps it was the sight of all four children in his midst, but Olruggio calmed himself with many, many deep breaths, a pinched nose, and furrowed brows.

"It's not like him to lose his way around here," he huffed, before finally turning toward Coco with a much more pleasant and patient expression. "I was just lookin' around for your teacher. Don't tell me he's cooked you all dinner and disappeared..."

"He called us all down to eat and excused himself," Agott said.

"Yeah, Professor Qifrey said he was going to look for Coco," Tetia explained.

"He said he will be quick," Richeh mumbled.

"Did he, now?" And now the suspicion has gone to Coco.

"I was just helping him out with something," she said, but she feared that her smile was not at all convincing. "Actually, I was preparing a gift for Professor Qifrey. It took a little longer than we hoped, but he's all ready now! Do you want to see?"

It was a rhetorical question, yet Olruggio parsed it over as if it were a serious consideration—as if he thought so little of Coco.

"Please don't let it be water-walkin’ shoes," he pleaded.

"Nope, even better!"

Before the weary witch could speculate any further, Coco darted back up the stairs and into the shadows. For a fleeting eternity, no one spoke a word, nor did anyone dare move. It wasn't till the distant, muffled footsteps coming from down the hallway that all eyes affixed themselves atop the stairs.

It was the first wisp of olive-blonde hair. Then, Coco's exuberant smile as she held her teacher's hand to steer his way. Then, it was... a faint shimmer of silk-woven cotton, a long, flowing skirt, billowing white sleeves cinched at the wrists, golden embellishments, silver ornaments akin to stars layered atop a canvas of deep blues...

Suffice it to say, the audience was stunned—but none could contend to the mirroring gaze that couldn't bear to look away.

There were stars in Olruggio's eyes, as well. There was that star-struck awe akin to the love of magic itself.

Qifrey tipped his head aside. His spectacles, though having been left untouched by a seamstress' hands, caught the warm firelight in the common room oh-so perfectly.

"I take it that the silence is a good thing?"

Like a floundering fish, Olruggio's jaw couldn't decide whether to keep itself slack or stiff. What came out of it was a response utterly incoherent—yet also genuine.

"I-I... arh..."

Laughter resounded, crisp and clear, as light as freshly fallen snow.

"Oh, how I wish I could see your face, Olly."

"You—" Olruggio couldn't do so much as retort. "Since when..."

Well, that was a silly story, but Coco helped her teacher down the steps instead. Tetia had already swarmed the foot of the stairs before Olruggio could pull himself together. She crowded both Coco and Qifrey as if they were the stars of a grand show.

"Professor Qifrey, you look absolutely stunning! Did Coco really make you this outfit?"

There was fascination and wonder in her eyes, far brighter than the fireplace that warmed the atelier; and it was her enthusiasm that snapped everyone out of their reverie.

"She did, indeed," Qifrey said. "Be gentle, alright? Coco worked really hard on it."

"It's beautiful!" Tetia spared nothing in tugging and pulling at Coco's sleeve. "Please, please, oh, please, Coco! Will you teach me to make such beautiful dresses like this one?"

"Of course!" As if Coco wouldn't care to share a well-practiced skill of her own; though it had been torture lining the pinstripe at the seams...

"I must say, your craftsmanship is impeccable," Agott said. "You would fit in well among well-established dressmakers."

"That's... ah..." That was much too kind.

At least Richeh had a more simple compliment.

"Sparkly."

As for Olruggio, well...

He hid his embarrassment behind his fist—and he coughed into it for whatever reason. The witch seemed to be a right mess that flew past no one; not even a blind eye that could hardly trace his frantic gesticulations.

"Y-you! I-I..."

Very, very eloquent.

And Qifrey seemed to find it very, very amusing.

"I must say, I had thought you weren't the sort to care for one's attire. I suppose Coco has done a spectacular job in dazzling your eyes," he dared tease.

Fortunately, rather than falling back into another embarrassing loop of nonsense, Olruggio was saved by a most unamused Agott who thought his lack of composure almost pitiful.

"Professor Olruggio, were you not in a hurry to head out?" she said.

"Ah, yes, of course!" Olruggio made no attempt to hide his fluster. "I've already gathered everythin’ we need. Were it not for your... tardiness... we would've been off by now, Qifrey."

"And I do so apologise for that. But, now that we're here, we can head off now, can't we?"

It was a kind invitation—and a merciful olive branch to save what remained of Olruggio's reputation with the children. He was quick to take Qifrey off of Coco's guiding hand, and even quicker to steer him toward the front door with a smile that looked more childish than relieved; as if Olruggio had magically lost several years' worth of exhaustion from his eyes.

Tetia waved them off before they disappeared round the corner. "Have a good night, Professors!"

All the girls could hear before the front doors were promptly shut was Professor Qifrey's fussy reminder to finish their dinner before it got ice-cold.

For what it was worth, Qifrey believed Coco to be absolutely right in the end, after all.

Though he couldn't see Olruggio's expression for himself, the long bout of silence he once thought as disconcerting now stirred a strange, fluttering sensation within his heart. It was amusing hearing his partner stumble on flat earth whilst Qifrey remained steady on his own blind feet and cane. Perhaps the basket nestled in Olruggio's arm was heavier than they anticipated?

"That Coco..." The quiet mumbling did not escape Qifrey, either. "Was this what you two were up to during our last trip to Kalhn?"

"A seamstress without fabric is a witch without their pen," Qifrey wistfully hummed.

They walked down a familiar road. Qifrey recognised it well enough; the gravel and dirt beneath their shoes placed his mind at ease whilst he listened to Olruggio's musings by his side.

"Just how long has this been in the works?"

"A few weeks, I believe." Time was yet confusing for someone who could no longer watch the sunrise. Although, "If I had to guess, It's possible she may have overheard your remark about me donning... What was it you said? A 'noblewoman's getup'?"

There was a pause in Olruggio's footsteps right then.

"Wait..." The gears were turning, both ill-used and overworked, till the witch's mind caught up to him. "Is that it? I hardly even remember sayin' that."

Yes, well, that was just how it was sometimes. Children are far more perceptive than one might think; and they were just as creative with their wild interpretations.

"I suppose that explains why she had intended for this gift to be for you, as well," Qifrey said.

Curiously, rather than humming along and letting the mystery lay to rest at last, Olruggio caught up to his partner's pace and laid a bold hand atop of Qifrey's.

"Well, I think you look darlin'."

"Flatterer." Why, Qifrey hadn't ever thought his partner to be this... this—

"Regardless if you can no longer see, won't you believe me when I say that you look stunning?"

Even if so, Qifrey was not a vain man. Beauty was the least of his worries when he had an endless supply of stress and anxiety to cling to.

"And you should know by now that it would take much more than a mere compliment to fluster me," he quipped.

Perhaps it was a challenge, or a witty retort for a witch that never failed to take him up for one, anyway, but Qifrey caught the pensive little hum by his ear. It was suspicious, and interesting. He feigned ignorance nonetheless.

He awaited his partner's bold response, to be swept into the witch's arms and taken out of his bearings on the invisible pathway they walked. Olruggio certainly hadn't much restraint when he squeezed Qifrey's hand and pulled him close.

Qifrey could feel his warmth as if it were a gentle pyreball. Though his vision was reduced to a blurry fog, he recalled the mesmerising light that oft swayed him. It was much of what he saw when he thought of Olruggio now; that brilliant, guiding light, the sky's kindest, most radiant star. His mind's eye pictured that in its purest essence, and he could trace it as easily as drawing a spell beneath the veil of one's cloak.

To feel a calloused hand cup his cheek was almost... overwhelming, but Qifrey felt himself relax into Olruggio's guidance, urged to face a shapeless silhouette he couldn't bear close his eye on.

"A compliment, ey? Do you honestly think 'the sky's kindest, most radiant star' would intend it as just that?"

Oh, well, that was—

"Have I... ever said that out loud?" Qifrey wondered. He could've sworn—

"You tend to mumble as you drift to sleep," Olruggio confessed.

Oh...

"Oh." How embarrassing. On the other hand, Qifrey couldn't really find it in himself to care. Perhaps in the past, when the curse of the Silverwood still writhed beneath his skin, such a slip of vulnerability would cause him a great deal of panic, but it seemed that freedom had done well to soften his anxiousness in such a short amount of time.

Laughter bubbled from his chest, as free and unbidden as the breeze carding through his hair, his skin, his billowing dress. "I suppose I have said some other things, then?"

"I will leave that up to your imagination," said the cruel witch.

"Oh, you." A heart of gold with a mischievous side. Olruggio could be such a weasel.

Then again, Qifrey was no better. In fact, he was no worse, either.

Before Olruggio could utter another daring tease, Qifrey found the front of his shirt and pulled him in non-too-gently.

It happened so quickly, so suddenly, yet the warmth between them flourished like a blooming seed. It rooted Qifrey to the ground, turning his body as stiff as bark, yet it lasted for nary an instance as Olruggio slid his arm around the small of his back. He felt his body slacken into him, becoming more flesh than rigid bone, like a stuffed brushbug with a snugstone contraption sewn inside.

The kiss lasted for what felt like an eternity, yet even when it ended, Qifrey found himself sorely disappointed.

"If I am a star, then you, love, are everything."

"Am I?" That remark was left unsaid, but neither witch needed it to be. Qifrey knew well his partner's devotion, and Olruggio trusted his faith in kind. Words need not be uttered between those who no longer cast themselves underneath the shadows of tight-lipped secrets.

"Shall we get going, then?" Qifrey asked between the hair's breadth of distance they kept. He could feel Olruggio's breath against his skin, how it rose up to his lips, his lashes, fogging his spectacles and smearing his vision into white mist.

A deep, resounding chuckle spilled from the other witch at that. Olruggio slipped his hand further up Qifrey's cheek and snuck his thumb under the misted lens to caress his closed eye.

Gentle, warm, and oh-so tender...

Like the Northern Star stark against the pale night.

"I'll get us there. Don't you worry a thing."

And who was Qifrey to do otherwise? After all, he was but human.

《Bonus scene; and the full context...》

Qifrey had merely plucked out the first thing his hands found in his wardrobe, but it seemed even that was worth a comment.

"Oi, don't you dare start dressin' up like a slob. You deserve better than that."

Of all the things Olruggio had to complain about... Qifrey ran his other hand over the garment in his grasp, if only to pick out what it may be—perhaps it was his robe, or his cloak—no, no, it was most certainly a skirt. Whether it was his or Olruggio's was beyond his care at this point. "Well, I can't care less of my appearance. What pleasure would it bring me, anyway?" 

The tunic he wore at present belonged to his partner—at least, he believed so. Nowadays, Qifrey had better things to fuss over than the clothes he wore. So long as he was adequately dressed, what reason was there to comment? He could only bring himself to banter with his silly partner. "Perhaps I should make a statement, hmm? What do you think, Olly, a servant's smock, or robes from the Knights Moralis?"

From a fair distance away, yet still well-within close presence, Olruggio's voice was an exasperated huff. He grumbled as something rustled, as he shifted about wherever he was. "If I must pick the lesser of two devils... I'd rather see you in a noblewoman's getup."

How absurd. "That wasn't one of the options."

"Because I ain't pickin’ any devils for you."

Very, very smooth.

Despite the unamusement Qifrey feigned, he could not mask how warm his cheeks felt.

"Such fanciful garments are far beyond me, I'm afraid." It was difficult enough having one arm affixed to a cane at all times. Donning a frilly dress and cumbersome sleeves sounded utterly exhausting. Besides, it wasn't as though Qifrey was the sort to be invited to such... lavish events. That was Olruggio's forte.

Fortunately, Qifrey hadn't any plans to ever attend a noisy and crowded ball. Not for a long, long while, at the very least. He was better suited to much more intimate gatherings with dear friends and familiar voices instead.