Work Text:
Are you losing her true nature
When you loosen nomenclature
When you gift another moniker?
Pain is a beast of burden.
Tonight is one such night where Qifrey is feeling the burden more than usual. His hands and wrists in particular are causing the main source of the pain, having been going over Richeh's small seals with her most of the afternoon while Olruggio had taken the other three girls on a commission with him for the day.
As much as Qifrey encourages each of the girls to figure out where their mastery in magic may lie, Richeh's tiny seals have become more difficult to evaluate as his eyesight slowly grows worse, never mind trying to draw them himself.
It is a problem that Qifrey would never ever burden Richeh with, nor would it be right to. There may be a day where he will have to rely on Olruggio or Agott to help him read the tiny seals, but that day has not yet arrived, and he will be doing everything he can to keep that day as far away as possible.
Qifrey flexes his right hand, wincing at the stiff ache that rioches through it, and goes over to his dresser, pulling open the middle drawer and reaching into the back of it where a small hidden panel lives, pulling out a bag that clinks quietly.
He never could follow the principles exactly. Most of what is in this pouch has been reported as neccesary first aid supplies to be kept at the atelier, if they were reported at all. The amount of medicinal herbs knowledge Qifrey knows is small but highly likely enough to warrant his memories being erased if the Knights Moralis ever discovered the truth.
The little black jar of salve has a certain soothing smell to it when Qifrey cracks it open, a smell he absolutely associates with relief.
It's warm when he applies it to his wrist, the salve gliding over his skin easily as he gently rubs it in. Up his wrist, down his arm almost to his elbow, until his entire forearm is coated in a light layer.
He switches to his other arm and by the time he's finished with that one, the salve is already starting to work its magic, the ache dulling significantly.
A sigh of relief escapes Qifrey before he can stop it.
He knows that one day this will all pass, but some days he wonder when the end will come, when the silverwood will finally consume him, when the time he has borrowed again and again will be return and paid in full.
Hopefully he can live long enough to see the girls grow up and become fully-fledged witches in their own right.
The next morning, he's up early and in the kitchen, puttering around making tea and pulling things together for breakfast. The atelier is quiet and peaceful, something Qifrey enjoys greatly. Everyone is safe and sound, tucked away in their beds, a precious bubble that seems so far removed from the problems of the world, he can dream a little bit that it is all perfectly normal.
Then there's a weight leaning against his leg as he washes up some dishes that had been left behind in the sink from last night.
Qifrey looks down to see a familiar blue head, the brushbuddy draped limply over Richeh's shoulder. Richeh's leaning most of her weight against him, entirely confident that he won't let her fall over.
"Everything okay?" he asks quietly. Richeh is notorious for not being a morning person and is usually cranky the first hour or so she's awake. Coco had learned the hard way that you do not attempt conversation with Richeh unless it's about food until at least after breakfast, sometimes longer. Ironically, Olruggio seems to be the exception to this, but he is so rarely awake in time for breakfast that this little fact is oft forgotten.
But, Qifrey is concerned, because Richeh usually isn't up this early, even on a bad day.
"You smell like mint," Richeh sleepily grumbles, Qifrey's question either unheard or she doesn't want to answer it. "You always smell like mint after our lessons."
Qifrey freezes but for a moment, quickly returning to scrubbing the stubborn pot. "Do I?"
Richeh grunts and says nothing more.
Qifrey always does his best to keep his pain under wraps, especially from the girls. He supposes some things can't be avoided, but he's going to have to be more careful in the future with the salve he uses to relieve the pain after Richeh's lessons of she's noticed it.
They stay like that for awhile, until Qifrey is finished with the dishes and drying his hands off. Richeh is warm against him, her hands fisted tightly into his robes to keep herself upright.
"Richeh, I'm going to move," Qifrey warns her, figuring that it's the lesser of two evils (the other evil involves a waspish Richeh who has been unexpectedly jostled he really doesn't want to deal with this early).
But Richeh suddenly slumps forward, the brushbuddy squeaking in surprise, and Qifrey catches her, wrists and arms burning as he grabs her, quickly kneeling down to see what's wrong.
"Richeh-"
She's fast asleep, totally passed out on her feet.
With a sigh that could on be described as horribly fond, Qifrey hoists Richeh up, and heads for her and Tetia's rooms, ignoring the pain stretching down his arms from the movement and the weight of the small girl. The brushbuddy hops onto his shoulder, huffing, before settling down.
It's worth it. Every ache, pain, scrape, scratch, injury. Anything to keep these four apprentices of his safe and happy. No hesitation, no question.
Tetia's bedroom door is open, but a quick glance inside as they pass shows she's still fast asleep, pink hair fanned out over her pillow.
Up the small set of stairs, down the little set to Richeh's bedroom, and Qifrey is laying her back down into her own bed, tucking her in gently.
Thankfully, she remains asleep through the entire transfer and Qifrey is able to escape without notice or disturbing her.
He rubs gently at his arms once he's out of Tetia and Richeh's shared space, trying to ease the pain a little bit.
This precious bubble isn't completely pain-free, but some days, it's enough for the world to seem okay.