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Wars are raising for her
Crusades to adore her
The light of your afterword
Qifrey watches the water rose release mist into the hot summer afternoon before it vanishes completely as the spell finishes and dies off.
The girls are playing in the creek, skirts hiked up and tucked into waistbands, loudly laughing and arguing as they splash around, already soaked head to toe trying to cool off on the hottest day of the summer thus far. Tetia and Richeh had both tied their hair up, but Tetia's curls were escaping the bun and Richeh's braid was coming loose at the edges. Coco and Agott hadn't cared about their hair, but considering how soaked Agott is, Qifrey wouldn't be surprised if he heard complaints later.
Olruggio was passed out next to Qifrey where they had settled a blanket with the picnic basket underneath the tree, lying on his stomach with his head pillowed on crossed arms. There's a suspicious whistling noise coming from their watchful eye and the corner of Qifrey's mouth quirks up in amusement. Olruggio had been manhandled and bribed (his words) into coming out of his cave (Qifrey's ribbing) by the girls to take a break from commissions.
Qifrey knows it hadn't taken that much for the girls to pull Olruggio outside. He was, deep down and in adamant denial of the subject whenever it was brought up, absolutely endeared to them. It was always amusing when Olruggio forgot to be the "tough watchful eye ready to report any misdeeds at any moment" and helped one of them with studying.
He finishes another seal, another watery rose blooming from the black ink, and tries to shut out the quiet rustling of the silverwood in his lungs, a sudden heaviness crashing down on him, the lingering headache he'd been fighting all day starting to pound something fierce behind his eye.
Qifrey is constantly aware of the prescence of the tree burrowed deep within him, the pain it causes, the consequences of letting his guard down too far. Most days are manageable, but days like today make Qifrey wonder just how close to the surface the silverwood really is.
He's felt weak and exhausted all day, even with swapping out his usual robes for lighter weight, more summer appropriate attire. Sleep had been an unusual friend last night, devoid of the usual nightmares, but it had felt like he hadn't even slept when Qifrey woke up this morning with the sun already hot even just above the horizon.
Everything feels heavy and hot, like a thick woolen blanket pressing down on him. His head hurts, a pounding drum that seems to get louder with every second.
Qifrey squeezes his eye shut and tries to breathe, head going into his hand as he presses the palm of his hand against his forehead to try and relieve some of the pain.
"Qifrey?"
Olruggio's voice is rough with sleep and concern, his hand gently pressing on Qifrey's knee.
"Mhm," Qifrey hums.
"Are you okay? You're looking pretty pale."
Words are too thick and molasses-y to form.
Qifrey grunts.
There's a rustling sound as Olruggio moves, the sound of the wicker basket being opened and shut. Qifrey would usually put up a fuss, apologizing for disturbing Olruggio's nap and insisting he go back to sleep, but agency seems to have been snatched from him, his focus solely being hot, heavy, pain.
The silverwood whispers threateningly.
There's the sharp sound of a quill against stone and the sound of a seal closing.
"This is probably going to feel colder than it actually is for a minute until you get used to it," Olruggio explains. He places a soft cloth with a hard, cold and flat lump in Qifrey's hand. "Put in on your temple and if it's too much, take it off."
The cold is indeed a shock at first, Qifrey jerking it away before putting it back on almost immediately from the relief it applies.
His headache dissipates ever so slightly, but everything else still feels wrong.
"I'm going to go get water, don't move."
Qifrey's grasp on reality fades away after that. He doesn't think he passes out, not entirely, but the next thing he is coherently aware of is being on his back on the blanket, the sunlight dappling through the green leaves of the great oak tree he can only see in muted blurs with his spectacles removed, and coolness underneath his neck, knees, and around his wrists.
It's distinctly quieter than before, the girls not as loud. Actually, Qifrey can't hear them at all.
A dark head of hair slides into view and this close Qifrey's blurred vision isn't as bad or as blurry, Olruggio's features not perfectly clear, but clear enough.
"You're an idiot," Olruggio declares, tone of scolding primed. "And you scared the girls. Heat exhaustion on the first day of summer? Really?"
Qifrey closes his eye. "I'm sorry."
Olruggio tsks, but there's no heat behind it, not truly. "How do you feel now?"
Qifrey hesitates as he tries to assess. His headache lingers and he is still exhausted, but things don't feel so heavy and hot.
"A little better," he finally decides.
"Do you want to try stand? We can go back to the atelier and get you more comfortable there."
Qifrey nods, moving ever so carefully to get an arm underneath himself, but Olruggio slides an arm underneath his shoulders and helps him sit up, making the effort way easier.
But, the world suddenly swims violently, Qifrey's stomach twisting painfully, and he weakly shoves Olruggio away so he can lean away from the blanket, and-
Qifrey pants, that acidic leftover taste of his stomach having emptied itself horrible in his mouth, but he suddenly feels so much better.
There's a gentle hand on his back as he tries to recover and catch his breath, kneeling in the grass, the picnic blanket bunched up in his fists as he clutches it.
Eventually, Olruggio presses a cup of water into Qifrey's hand, and he rinses out his mouth, leaning backwards in relief once the taste of vomit is out of his mouth.
He doesn't realize how far back he's leaned until he wobbles off balance and Olruggio catches him, arm around his shoulders, hand on his elbow.
"Whoa there. Easy does it, Qifrey, you've just passed out and thrown up in the last twenty minutes. Don't push yourself."
"Sorry," Qifrey murmurs, tensing up a little bit the longer Olruggio lingers. "I do feel better, though."
Olruggio huffs. "Only you would say that after everything."
He can't deny it. Olruggio has watched him try to brush off other various and sundry wounds, illnesses, and even the damned silverwood that is probably going to kill him before old age does.
Qifrey counts to sixty before he pushes himself up, Olruggio keeping a firm arm around his waist as they stand. He is probably more pleased than he should be that he doesn't immediately wobble or feel sick upon standing, but the first few steps back towards the atelier prove to be more difficult than he thought they would be, his headache returning in all of its brilliantly stabbing glory.
"Qifrey, this is ridiculous. I'm carrying you back."
Before Qifrey can protest, his legs are sweeped out from under him, and Olruggio is marching across the grass towards the atelier.
The girls greet them at the door, crowding around the entrance as Olruggio crosses the threshold, questions immediately rising up.
"Is Master Qifrey okay?"
"You're going to earn an Angericheh point if you're not better."
"We finished the seals like you asked, Master Olruggio."
"Though a couple of them are a little wrong," Coco's nervous voice floats up from the overlapping voices.
"I'm sure they're fine," Olruggio cuts in. "Thank you girls. Can you all go get the picnic basket and blanket and bring them in? You can see Qifrey after."
There's a pause, a hesitancy, then four sets of feet go tearing out the door, leaving the atelier quiet.
"You picked good apprentices," Olruggio says as they traverse up the stairs to Qifrey's room.
"I thought you thought I have too many," Qifrey teases, squinting a little bit in the dimly lit hallway they exit out to.
"The more apprentices you collect, the more miscreants I have to keep track of, and the more trouble that can be caused," Olruggio states, nose tilting up in that way he gets when he's feeling a little legalistic and entirely trying to hide his true feelings behind a stoic exterior.
"Entirely baseless, you like having the girls around." Quifrey pokes Olruggio in the chest. "You enjoy the michief they get up to."
"Accidentally releasing a bag of frogs into my room is not something I would exactly call enjoyable."
Olruggio shoves open the door to Qifrey's bedroom with his foot and the temperature noticeably drops a few degrees, easing the headache and other aches Qifrey has become more and more aware of in the last few minutes.
He is (carefully) dropped onto the bed, Olruggio pulling off his boots and putting them to the side, along with placing Qifrey's spectacles on the nightstand next to the bed.
"I had the girls cast a few modified cold seals around the room to try and keep the temperature down for a bit." Olruggio rummages around in Qifrey's dresser before pulling out a set of nightclothes, tossing them at him. There's a distinct slamming of the front door and a quiet rise in sound as the girls come inside. "Get comfortable, I'm going to make sure they didn't accidentally set something on fire."
Then, Qifrey is left alone.
Careful of unsteady feeling he still feels, Qifrey changes into the nightclothes and settles down under the thin blanket on his bed, drowsiness overcoming him as he finally, finally relaxes.
He's asleep by the time the girls come up the stairs in a hushed gaggle to check on him, blissfully taken away from the pain.
(Qifrey wakes up the next morning with nothing seeming to have happened, other than coughing up and spitting out a mouthful of silverwood leaves. Thankfully, the branch isn't coming out of his missing eye socket like it tends to do as one of the first, much larger signs that he's let his guard down too far. The girls are happy to see he's feeling better when he comes down the stairs and even Olruggio seems relieved. But, Qifrey still feels the rustling of the silverwood well into the evening, a threat of what may come if he isn't careful enough.)