Work Text:
The atelier was quiet in the way only deep night could make it.
During the day, the old building was never truly silent. There was always the scratch of pens over paper, the rustle of cloaks, the bubbling of something strange in Olruggio’s workshop, or the girls voices floating cheerfully through the halls as she dragged someone into conversation. Even when everyone tried to concentrate, life found ways to fill the space.
But now the atelier slept.
Moonlight slipped through the windows and lay across the wooden floors in pale silver squares. The shadows of tree branches shifted slowly over the walls. The fireplace downstairs had burned down to a faint glow, and the whole house creaked softly as the night wind brushed against it.
In one of the upstairs rooms, Coco slept curled beneath her blanket, one hand tucked beneath her cheek. At the foot of her bed, Brush Buddy was nestled into a little white puff of fur, breathing softly as it slept with its tiny body pressed close to her feet.
For a while, everything was peaceful. The exact opposite could be said for Coco's dreams.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
'She stood alone in a corridor that had no end.
The walls were made of dark stone, taller than any walls she had ever seen, stretching upward until they disappeared into shadow. Beneath her bare feet, glowing sigils had been carved into the floor, each one pulsing with a cold blue light. They were beautiful at first, delicate and intricate, but something about them made her stomach twist.
She looked around.
“Hello?”
Her voice echoed back at her.
No one answered.
She took a step forward, then another. The corridor stretched ahead forever, and the more she walked, the colder it became. Her breath came out in small white clouds. Her fingers trembled, and she wrapped her arms around herself.
“Master Qifrey?” she called.
Silence.
“Olruggio?”
Still nothing.
The glowing sigils beneath her feet brightened, then dimmed again. She tried to read them, but every time she focused on one, the lines shifted into something unfamiliar. They looked like spells, but wrong ones. Broken ones. Failed ones.
Her own work.
A cold feeling settled in her chest.
Then she heard laughter.
Not cruel laughter at first. Familiar laughter. Tetia’s bright voice. Richeh’s softer one. Agott’s sharp but controlled tone. Relief rushed through Coco so quickly it almost hurt.
She ran toward the sound.
Ahead, the corridor opened into a wide chamber filled with warm light. She could see them there: Tetia, Richeh, Agott, Master Qifrey, and Olruggio. They stood together around a table covered in spellbooks and sketches, their backs turned to her.
Coco’s heart lifted.
“There you are!” she called. “Wait for me!”
None of them turned.
She ran faster, but the chamber remained impossibly far away. “Master Qifrey!”.
Still no answer.
The light around them grew warmer and brighter, while everything around Coco grew colder. She stretched out her hand, desperate to reach them.
“Please!”.
At last, Agott turned.
Her face was calm.
Too calm.
“You shouldn’t be here,” she said. Coco stopped so suddenly she nearly fell. “What?”. “You don’t belong here.” The words struck harder than any spell.
Tetia looked down at the floor. Richeh held her book closer to her chest. Olruggio’s face blurred in shadow. Qifrey stood silently behind them.
Coco shook her head. “No. I’m trying. I know I make mistakes, but I’m trying, I promise.” Agott’s expression did not change.
“That doesn’t mean you belong.” The floor beneath Coco’s feet cracked.
The glowing sigils split apart, their beautiful lines breaking into jagged pieces. Darkness leaked from the cracks like ink spreading through water.
Coco stumbled back. “No,” she whispered. “Please, I can do better.”
A voice came from the walls.
Mistake.
Another answered.
Burden.
More voices joined, whispering from every direction.
Failure.
Problem.
Outsider.
Doesn’t belong.
Doesn’t belong.
DOES. NOT. BELONG.
The chamber of warm light moved farther away.
Coco tried to run toward it, but her legs felt heavy, as if the shadows had wrapped around her ankles. She looked up at Qifrey, waiting for him to speak, waiting for him to smile gently and say that Agott was wrong. But in the dream, he only looked sad.
“I’m sorry, Coco,” he said. The words were quiet.
Yet they shattered her. The floor vanished beneath her feet.
Coco fell.
She fell through darkness so deep she couldn’t see her own hands. The voices followed her, whispering into her ears, growing louder and louder until they became a roar.
You ruined everything.
You were never meant to be a witch.
They only pity you.
They would be happier if you left.
She tried to scream, but no sound came out.
Then something white appeared far above her.
Small. Fluffy. Desperate.
Brush Buddy chirped from the edge of the darkness, but it was too far away. Coco reached for it with all her strength.
The little creature leapt after her.
For one brief second, she thought it might reach her. Then the darkness swallowed them both.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Coco woke with a strangled gasp.
She shot upright in bed, clutching at her blanket as though she were still falling. Her eyes flew open, but the room around her was dark, unfamiliar, and blurred with tears. For several terrifying seconds, she couldn’t remember where she was.
The corridor.
The voices.
Qifrey’s sad face.
No.
The wooden beams above her slowly came into focus. Her shelf. Her desk. Her folded cloak hanging over the chair. Her sketchbook beside the bed.
The atelier.
She was in the atelier.
Safe.
But her body didn’t know that.
Her heart hammered violently against her ribs. Her breathing came too fast, each inhale sharp and shallow. She pressed one hand over her chest, trying to force herself to slow down. “It wasn’t real,” she whispered.
Her voice came out thin and broken.
“It wasn’t real. It wasn’t real.”
The words meant nothing. The dream still clung to her like cold hands around her throat. She could still hear Agott’s voice. Still see Tetia looking away. Still feel the floor opening beneath her.
Her chest tightened.
She tried to take a deep breath, but it caught halfway.
Again.
Again.
Nothing felt like enough air.
Panic rose fast and hot inside her, swallowing every thought before she could hold onto it. Her fingers trembled violently around the blanket. Her skin felt too cold and too warm at the same time. The room seemed to tilt.
“I can’t,” she choked.
She knew what was happening.
That almost made it worse.
Master Qifrey had once explained panic gently, after one of their lessons had frightened Tetia badly. He had told them that fear could trick the body into believing danger was still present even when it had passed. He had shown them grounding exercises. He had said breathing would come back if they gave it time.
Coco tried to remember.
Five things she could see. But her eyes wouldn’t focus.
Four things she could feel. All she felt was fear.
Three things she could hear. Her heartbeat was too loud.
“I can’t,” she whispered again, voice shaking. “I can’t". Hot tears rolled down her face.
At the foot of the bed, Brush Buddy stirred. Its fluffy ears twitched first. Then its round little body shifted, and it lifted its head with a sleepy chirp.
“chirp?”, Coco didn’t answer.
Brush Buddy blinked, still half-asleep, then noticed the way she was sitting. Trembling. Crying. Breathing too quickly.
Its eyes widened. “Chirrp?”
It scrambled up the blanket and bounced toward her lap. Coco barely noticed. She had curled in on herself, knees drawn tightly to her chest, one hand gripping the front of her nightdress as though she could physically hold herself together.
Brush Buddy pressed its tiny paws against her arm. She didn’t react.
It chirped again, louder. Still nothing.
The little creature climbed fully into her lap and pushed its soft head beneath her shaking hands. Usually, that worked. Usually Coco’s fingers would instinctively curl into its fur. Usually she would smile, even if she was sad. But this isn't a usual situation.
Tonight, her hands remained stiff.
Brush Buddy’s ears drooped. It tried again.
It rubbed its cheek against her wrist, then licked at one of the tears sliding down her face. Coco flinched slightly, not away from fear of the creature, but because she was too overwhelmed by everything around her.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered without really seeing it. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”
Brush Buddy chirped frantically, as if trying to tell her there was nothing to apologise for.
It pressed its whole fluffy body against her chest. It tried to make itself warm and solid, something she could feel. It nuzzled under her chin. It patted clumsily at her sleeve.
Coco’s breathing only grew faster. “I can’t breathe,” she gasped.
Brush Buddy froze.
It did not understand nightmares. It did not understand the cruel tricks fear could play on a human heart. But it understood Coco’s voice. It understood tears. It understood the way her hands shook and how she didn’t seem to know where she was.
It understood something was wrong.
The little creature gave one more desperate chirp and bounced off her lap. It landed on the floor with a soft thump, shook itself, and raced toward the door.
Then it stopped.
It looked back at Coco. She was still trembling.
Brush Buddy chirped once, sharp and determined, then slipped into the hallway.
The atelier’s corridor was dark, but Brush Buddy knew the way. Its tiny paws pattered rapidly over the floorboards. It passed the apprentices’ doors, nearly skidding at the corner, then hurried toward the room at the end of the hall.
Master Qifrey’s door was closed.
Brush Buddy launched itself at it.
Thunk.
It bounced back, shook its head, and tried again.
Thunk.
Inside, Qifrey stirred.
Brush Buddy chirped, then scratched at the door with frantic little motions.
The door opened.
Qifrey stood there in his nightclothes with his cloak hastily pulled around his shoulders, silver hair loose around his face. He blinked down at the tiny white creature.
“Brush Buddy?” Brush Buddy chirped loudly, bounced in place, then turned and ran several steps down the hallway.
Qifrey’s sleepiness vanished instantly.
“What is it, little one?" Brush Buddy looked back and chirped again, more urgently this time.
Qifrey did not ask another question. He followed.
The little creature raced back toward Coco’s room, occasionally glancing over its shoulder to make sure he was still there. Qifrey moved quickly but quietly, his expression calm despite the worry tightening in his chest.
When they reached Coco’s door, Brush Buddy pushed at it with its head. Qifrey gently opened it.
“Coco?”
She looked up.
Her face was pale, tear-streaked, and frightened. She sat curled on the bed with her knees pulled against her chest, breathing in short, uneven gasps. The moment she saw him, shame flickered through her panic.
“M-Master Qifrey-”.
Her voice broke. “I’m sorry.”
Qifrey crossed the room slowly.
Not too fast.
Not too close.
He knew fear could make even kindness feel overwhelming if it arrived too suddenly. So he knelt beside the bed first, lowering himself to her level.
“Oh my dear child, you have nothing to apologise for",he said softly.
Coco shook her head, but the motion was shaky and small.
“I'm sorry if I woke you." Tears continued to stream down her face.
“I didn’t mean-”
“Coco.”
His voice was gentle, but steady enough to catch her attention. She looked at him with wide, frightened eyes.
“You are safe,” he said. “You are in your room. I am here. Brush Buddy is here. Nothing can hurt you here nor now.” Her breathing hitched.
She whispered one strangled word, “N-nightmare…”
“Oh child, I thought so," he says with softness in his voice.
Brush Buddy bounced back onto the bed and pressed itself against Coco’s side. Qifrey glanced at the little creature and smiled faintly. “And you did very well Puff Puff,” he murmured. “Thank you for coming to get me.”
Brush Buddy puffed up proudly, though concern quickly pulled its attention back to Coco. Qifrey rested one hand on the edge of the bed, palm open.
“Coco, may I sit beside you?” She gave a tiny nod.
Only then did he move closer, sitting on the mattress with enough space between them that she didn’t feel trapped.
“I can’t make it stop,” she whispered, her breathing hitching.
“I know it feels that way.”
“I can’t breathe. Please master h-help me."
“You are breathing my dear” Qifrey said gently. “It feels like you can’t because your body is frightened, but air is still coming in and going out. We are going to help it slow down together.”
She shook her head again.
“I tried.”
“I know.”
“I tried to do what you taught us.”
“And the fact that it didn’t work immediately does not mean you failed. It just means you need a little guidance and that's okay child," he says softly.
Her eyes filled with a new wave of fresh tears again.
He continued softly, “During panic, trying too hard to breathe perfectly can sometimes make the fear louder. So we won’t start there.”
Coco stared at him, trembling.
“We won’t?”
“No. First, we will remind your mind where you are.”
Brush Buddy climbed carefully into Coco’s lap and settled there like a warm little anchor. Qifrey smiled.
“And we have an excellent assistant.” The creature chirped.
Coco gave the smallest, weakest laugh, though it quickly faded.
Qifrey took it as a good sign.
“Can you tell me five things you can see?”
Coco’s eyes moved around the room, unfocused at first.
“I…”
“No rush.”
She swallowed.
“The window.”
“Good.”
“The moonlight.”
“Yes.”
“My desk.”
“Very good.”
“Brush Buddy.” Brush Buddy chirped, as if pleased to be included.
“And…”
Her gaze returned to Qifrey.
“You.”
Qifrey smiled warmly.
“Here I am.” Her breathing was still fast, but not quite as sharp.
“Now four things you can feel.”
Coco’s fingers moved faintly against the blanket.
“The blanket.”
“Brush Buddy’s fur.” The little creature pressed more firmly into her lap.
“The bed.”
She hesitated.
“My hands shaking.”
Qifrey nodded.
“That counts. And shaking cannot harm you. It is uncomfortable, but it will pass.”
Coco listened, tears still slipping down her cheeks.
“Three things you can hear,” he said.
She closed her eyes, then opened them quickly, as if the darkness frightened her.
“Keep them open if you prefer,” Qifrey said. She nodded.
“I hear… the trees outside.”
“Brush Buddy purring.”
The tiny creature made a soft chirp to help.
“And…”
She paused.
"You talking.”
“Good. Stay with my voice.”
Her shoulders had begun to lower.
“Two things you can smell.”
Coco sniffed shakily.
“The blankets.”
“And?”
“Tea leaves.”
Qifrey glanced toward the small pouch on her desk and smiled.
“You still have the calming blend Olruggio made?”
She nodded faintly.
“He said it smelled better than it tasted.” “Hmm that sounds like him.”
Another fragile hint of a smile touched her face.
“One thing you can taste,” Qifrey said.
Coco thought for a moment.
“Salt.”
“From your tears?” She nodded.
“That is all right.” They sat quietly.
Qifrey did not hurry to fill the silence. He let the room settle around her. The moonlight. The blankets. Brush Buddy’s warmth. His own steady presence.
After a while, Coco took a slightly fuller breath.
Then another. Her hand loosened from the blanket.
“There,” Qifrey murmured. “That’s it. Let your body find its way back. You do not have to force it.”
Coco’s eyes flickered toward him.
“It was awful.”
“The nightmare?”
She nodded.
"They all left me.” Qifrey’s expression softened with sadness. “Who did?”
“The girls. Olruggio. You.”
Her voice cracked on the last word.
Qifrey’s heart ached.
“In the dream,” she continued, “Agott said I didn’t belong here. And everyone looked away. Even you.”
Qifrey said nothing at first. Not because he had no answer, but because he wanted her to feel fully heard before comfort came.
Coco wiped at her face with her sleeve.
“I know it wasn’t real,” she whispered. “But it felt real. It felt like something that could happen.”
“Because it touched a fear you already carry,” Qifrey said gently. She looked down.
“I try not to, to carry the fear I mean," she whispers.
“I know.”
“I don’t want to be ungrateful. You took me in. Everyone teaches me. Everyone is kind. I should be happy.”
“You can be grateful and still afraid,” Qifrey said. “One does not cancel the other.”
Coco’s lower lip trembled. “I’m not like everyone else.”
“No,” he agreed softly. “You are Coco.”
She looked at him, startled.
“That is not a failure,” he continued. “It is the very thing that makes you precious to this atelier.”
Fresh tears filled her eyes.
“But I make so many mistakes.”
“So do I.”
“You don’t.”
Qifrey laughed quietly.
“My dear Coco, I make mistakes constantly. I have simply become very skilled at looking calm afterward.” That earned him a real laugh, watery and small.
Brush Buddy perked up immediately, delighted by the sound, and bounced once in her lap.
Qifrey’s smile deepened. “There you are.”
Coco rubbed Brush Buddy’s head with trembling fingers.
“I don’t want to lose this place.”
“You are not losing it, Coco.”
“I keep thinking… one day everyone will realise I’m too much trouble.”
Qifrey’s gaze grew serious, but never stern.
“Coco, look at me.” She did.
“You are not trouble.” Her eyes filled again.
“You are a child who was pulled into a world much larger and more frightening than she expected. You are learning, healing, stumbling, trying, and growing. None of that makes you a burden.”
“But what if I slow everyone down?”
“Then we slow down.” She blinked. “As many times as needed.”
The simplicity of it struck her so deeply she could not answer.
Qifrey continued, “The atelier is not a race. You do not have to earn your place by keeping up perfectly. You belong here because you are part of us.”
Coco made a small broken sound and leaned forward. Qifrey opened his arms at once.
She collapsed against him, burying her face into his shoulder. He wrapped her in a warm embrace, one hand resting gently against the back of her head while the other rubbed slow circles between her shoulders. Brush Buddy, refusing to be excluded, wriggled between them until it was pressed against Coco’s stomach.
Qifrey chuckled softly. “Yes, yes of course. You helped too.” Brush Buddy chirped proudly.
Coco cried quietly for a while. Not in the sharp, breathless way of panic, but in the exhausted way of someone finally setting down something heavy. Qifrey held her through it without complaint, without impatience, without making her feel childish.
When the tears slowed, he spoke again.
“Do you know what Brush Buddy did when it came to my door?”
Coco sniffled. “What?”
“It launched itself into the door repeatedly.”
Despite everything, Coco looked horrified. “Did it hurt itself?”
Brush Buddy chirped indignantly.
Qifrey smiled.
“No and it seems perfectly proud of the method.”
Coco stroked its fur. “You silly little thing.”
Brush Buddy licked her hand.
“It was very determined,” Qifrey said. “It knew you needed someone. That is no little thing.” Coco looked down at the creature in her lap.
“You really came to get him for me?” Brush Buddy chirped once. Coco’s face crumpled again, but this time the emotion was softer.
“Thank you.”
She bent down and pressed a tiny kiss to the top of its fluffy head. Brush Buddy froze in delight.
Then it melted completely against her.
Qifrey watched with tender amusement. “I believe you have made its entire week.”
Coco gave a shaky smile.
For a few minutes, they simply sat together. The room was no longer frightening. The shadows were only shadows.The nightmare had not vanished completely, but it had become smaller now, held at a distance by warm arms and soft fur.
Eventually Qifrey asked, “Would you like to tell me more about the dream, or would you rather leave it alone for tonight?”
Coco thought about it.
“I think… I want to tell you.”
“Then I’m listening.”
She took a slow breath. She began to recall her nightmare.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Her voice shook.
“You said you were sorry.”
Qifrey’s expression softened.
“I see.”
“I know you wouldn’t leave me”
“No,” he said gently. “I would not.”
Coco nodded quickly, as though afraid he might think she believed the dream. "In the dream, it felt like… like maybe you were sorry you brought me here.”
Qifrey was quiet for a moment.
Then he said, “Coco, bringing you here was not a regret.”
She looked up.
“It was a responsibility. A serious one. A frightening one, sometimes. But never a regret.”
Her breathing caught again, though not from panic this time.
“I am glad you are here,” he continued. “Not because you are easy to teach. Not because you never struggle. Not because you are perfect. I am glad because you are you Coco.”
Coco clutched his cloak tightly.
“And if I have to remind you of that every night for a hundred nights, I will.”
She gave a small, tearful laugh.
“That’s a lot of nights master.”
“I am a very patient witch.” Brush Buddy chirped doubtfully. Qifrey looked down at it.
“I can be patient.” The creature chirped again, still unconvinced. Coco laughed a little harder, and the sound eased something in the room.
“There,” Qifrey said fondly. “Much better.”
A knock suddenly came from the doorway.
Both Coco and Qifrey looked up.
Olruggio stood there, hair slightly messy from sleep, cloak thrown over one shoulder. His expression was grumpy in the way he looked when worry was trying very hard to disguise itself as irritation. “I heard crying, are you okay Coco?,” he said.
Coco nodded and Qifrey smiled. “Brush Buddy came to get me.”
Olruggio’s eyes moved to Coco, taking in her tear-streaked face and the way she was tucked against Qifrey’s side. His expression softened immediately, though he kept his voice calm.
“Nightmare?”
Coco nodded, embarrassed. “I’m sorry.”
Olruggio sighed and stepped into the room. “Im sure that word is getting overused tonight.”
Qifrey chuckled. “I already told her.”
“Good. Saves me the trouble.”
Despite his words, Olruggio crossed to the desk and picked up the pouch of tea leaves. He gave it a sniff and grimaced.
“Still smells better than it tastes.”
Coco smiled faintly.
“See," Coco says to Qifrey. Olruggio moved toward the door.
“I’ll make some.” “You don’t have to,” Coco said quickly.
Olruggio glanced back at her.
“I know.” Then he left ananyway.
Coco stared after him. Qifrey smiled knowingly.
“That is Olly for ‘I care very much.’” “I heard that,” Olruggio called from the hall.
Qifrey’s smile widened.
Coco tucked her face against his shoulder again, but this time she was smiling.
By the time Olruggio returned with a small cup of warm tea, Coco’s breathing had settled completely. He placed the cup carefully in her hands, then stood awkwardly beside the bed, as if deciding whether comfort required more words than he wanted to offer.
Finally he said, “Drink slowly.”
Coco nodded. “Thank you.” Olruggio looked away.
“It’s only tea.”
"It still helps.”
He huffed softly, but his ears looked faintly pink.
Brush Buddy sniffed the cup and immediately sneezed. Coco giggled.
Olruggio frowned at it.
“You have no taste.”
Brush Buddy chirped at him. Qifrey laughed quietly.
The small, ordinary exchange did more for Coco than any grand speech could have. It reminded her of the atelier as it truly was. Not the cold corridor of her dream, not a place where everyone turned away, but a home full of warmth, teasing, tea, and people who came when she needed them.
Even in the middle of the night.
After she finished the tea, Qifrey helped settle the blanket around her shoulders. Brush Buddy curled against her side, refusing to move from its position as guardian. Olruggio placed the cup back on the desk and glanced toward Qifrey.
“Ay,are you staying?”
Qifrey looked at Coco.
“Would you like me to stay until you fall asleep?” Coco hesitated only a moment before nodding. “Yes, please.”
“Then I’ll stay.” Olruggio nodded as if that settled everything.
“I’ll leave the lamp low.” He turned to go, then paused at the doorway.
“Coco.”
She looked up.
He seemed to struggle for a second before finally saying, “Bad dreams are bad dreams. They don’t get to decide who you are and where you belong.” Coco’s eyes widened.
Olruggio cleared his throat.
“That’s all.” Then he left.
Qifrey smiled softly. “He cares more than he knows what to do with.”
Coco looked down at Brush Buddy. “I think everyone does.”
“Yes,” Qifrey said. “They do.”
Coco settled slowly beneath the blanket. Exhaustion dragged at her body now that the panic had passed. Her eyes felt heavy, but she was afraid of closing them.
Qifrey seemed to understand.
He sat beside her and began speaking quietly, not about the nightmare, but about simple things. The first time Tetia had nearly filled the kitchen with bubbles. The way Agott pretended not to like sweets but always took the last honey biscuit. The tiny spell Richeh had once designed to help dry wet pages. Olruggio’s habit of muttering at tools as though they had personally offended him.
Coco listened, curled around Brush Buddy’s warmth.
Slowly, the fear of sleep eased.
The atelier became real again in her mind.
Not the dream version. The true one.
When her eyelids finally slipped closed, Qifrey was still there, his voice soft and steady in the moonlit room.
This time, there was no endless corridor.
Only warmth.
Only safety.
Only home.
"Sweet dreams dear Coco". Soft words whispered into the air.