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No, love'll get you slaughtered
Like a ram at the altar
What is safe ain't the same as what is good
Love, to Qifrey, is something to keep tightly under wraps and tucked away safe, far, far away from the silverwood. It is not something to dwell on, even as the atelier fills up from one master and apprentice quietly going about their studies to a house filled with light and laughter of four apprentice, one master, and a watchful eye who denies it up and down how much he actually cares.
Love, for Qifrey, is a death sentence.
Yet it still spreads its seeds, sometimes sprouting little curling tendrils that he has to rip out as he sees them, when the leaves and branches of the silverwood rustle a little too loudly, when the pain in his limbs grows a little too strong.
Love is something Qifrey can give, but never accept himself.
If he thinks too hard about it, he doesn't really know if he's ever felt safe. Good, perhaps (and definitely not in the moral sense), but never safe.
Safety is as much of a death sentence as love is.
"Master Qifrey?"
Richeh has grown in the last few months, much to her delight. The other girls have, too, but Richeh is almost up to Tetia's shoulder, her growth the most noticeable recently.
It still doesn't stop her from leaning against Qifrey's leg like she used to when she was smaller, as her way of being close without being engulfed.
"Yes, Richeh?"
They're in the kitchen. Qifrey is preparing vegetables for dinner, the knife sure and steady in his hand. Nothing is amiss, nothing is wrong, the sunset is a gorgeous painting of tawny gold, pink, and orange.
"Do you think my parents would recognize me?"
Qifrey's knife comes to a stop.
"Where is this coming from, Richeh?"
He looks down at his youngest apprentice, who has gotten more confident in her words, her work, herself, and watches her nibble her lip in anxiety.
"I dunno," she finally shrugs. "Richeh hasn't seen them since…in many years. And I overheard Coco talking with Tetia about her mom not recognizing her if she can't figure out a spell until she grows up…"
Qifrey sets the knife down and crouches like he did when the girls were younger so he was more at eye-height and not such a towering figure. "Richeh, all parents have a deep instinct of knowing who their children are, even if they've changed. I'm sure your parents would recognize you, even now."
Richeh is taller than him like this. She's always been serious and fairly set in her ways (much to Qifrey and Olruggio's combined amusement and exasperation), keen on figuring things out for herself first before asking for help. If Qifrey's atelier didn't have the reputation for raising troublemakers (ha) and independent thinkers (double ha), he's sure the Knights Moralis would have probably scouted her to be one of their own.
This questioning is different, though.
"Are you wanting to see your parents?" Qifrey asks, searching Richeh's face carefully.
She ponders this for a moment, then shakes her head. "No. They abandoned Riliphin and me. I don't want to see them."
Internally, Qifrey heaves a sigh of relief. Last time he had interacted with Richeh and Riliphin's parents, all those years ago, it had left a bad taste in his mouth. Distant was probably how he would have described them then. Cold, perhaps. Not entirely uncaring for what their children had gone through, but not exactly willing to intercede either. Beldaruit had not been too happy about the whole affair, since it hadn't been just Richeh and Riliphin who had suffered abuse under the witch that was teaching them.
"Okay," he says. "Did I answer your question?"
Again, another pondering moment, then a firm nod. "Yes."
Qifrey smiles at her, gentle and careful.
"Okay."
He's making to stand when Richeh suddenly turns a little shy, stretching out her arms in a silent question.
Qifrey obliges her immediately, wrapping Richeh in a firm hug, just how she likes it.
Then she's pushing away and running off, like nothing happened, leaving Qifrey alone with his thoughts and vegetables.
"Coco?"
The golden-green haired girl looks up from her desk, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. "Hmm?"
Qifrey ducks in, noting Agott's neatly stacked spellwork and organized supplies on her desk, his oldest apprentice out on a commission with Olruggio for the day. "I just wanted to check in and see how you were doing?"
"Oh! Fine, I think." Coco smiles at him brightly. "How are you, Master Qifrey? How's the-"
She makes a motion with her fingers that Qifrey supposes is meant to imitate a tree.
Qifrey sighs, letting his shoulders droop as he steps over to Agott's desk, sitting down on one of the scattered seat cushions. "I'm still alive," he says with a chuckle. "But that's not what I came for."
Coco knowing his secret in the last couple of years had been a tricky line to walk. In some ways, it made life easier, but hiding the pain was a little more difficult from someone so perceptive.
Sensing the seriousness in Qifrey's voice, Coco sets down her pen and turns to face him fully, hands neatly folded in her lap.
"Did I do something wrong?" She asks nervously.
Qifrey winces a little bit internally. "No, Coco, you haven't done anything wrong," he says gently. "I just noticed that it's coming up on the anniversary of when you first arrived at the atelier and I wanted to see how you were doing?"
Revealing that Richeh had, most likely accidentally, overheard Coco and Tetia's conversation wasn't exactly something that Qifrey exactly wanted to do. While he's sure that ultimately things would be fine, avoiding the drama it could cause would be ideal.
Coco looks down at her hands, covered in ink stains and callouses from her pen. "I…don't know. Okay, I guess."
Patience, Qifrey.
She fiddles with her fingers a little bit before looking up at him, eyes filled with tears.
"Oh, Coco-"
Qifrey opens his arms and Coco dives into them, sobs erupting from her.
They sit there for a good while, until Coco seems to cry most of her tears out, clinging to Qifrey like a lifeline.
"I'm sorry," she apologizes after she pulls herself together a little bit, pulling back from Qifrey but not entirely moving away.
"Don't be," Qifrey says, smiling softly. "It's normal that you would be more aware of missing her now than you might be at other times."
Coco sniffles. "Yeah…it just makes me feel silly, sometimes. I might be doing some mundane task and suddenly wonder if my mom would be proud of me, and I can't ask her or see her…"
"I have no reason to question why she wouldn't be proud of you, Coco," Qifrey states firmly. "You're growing into a fine young woman and a spectacular witch. I think she would be very proud of you and all that you have overcome."
Qifrey isn't Coco's mother, not by a long-shot, and he doesn't fool himself to pretend that he can fill the gaping hole left behind in Coco's heart. The best he can do is soothe the wound and be there for Coco when she needs him.
Coco nods, wiping away at her tears, a little smile breaking through the grey. "Okay. Thank you, Master Qifrey."
"You're very welcome, Coco. I'm always here if you need me, alright?"
"Alright."
Later that night, Qifrey airs out his own pain to Olruggio. The way his heart hurts for the girls, especially Coco, whose life and normalacy had been so forcefully turned upside down. Richeh and her question. The anger he sometimes feels.
There are many a heavy burden that Qifrey cannot share, one such that sharing would kill him, but this is a burden that he can, one that Olruggio is willing to share with him.
If he didn't, if his atelier had been so unlucky to have a different watchful eye, Qifrey is very afraid things would have been very different.