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Sleep to Olruggio was an ever elusive mistress. Only ever wishing to be acquainted on its dime and never on his. He’s come to accept it, dancing his blind waltz with the concept of a semi healthy circadian rhythm. What good is a genius if they didn’t have some eccentricities, right? At this point in his life the lack of sleep is the status quo. Between general insomnia and being the type to have a one track mind when it comes to commissions and creative ingenuity, sleep simply slips away from him sometimes.
Most of the time actually, but Olruggio likes to live in denial.
Recently though it wasn’t his usual insomnia or the unfettered attention on a commission that was keeping him awake at night. No, instead it was something abstract. Slipping from Olruggio’s grasp as he tries to define just what it was. It was like a stone thrown across the surface of a lake. You can only keep track of the stone as it skips across the surface, but as soon it loses its momentum, it sinks. Trying to make sense of what was nagging at him was like trying to keep track of the stone at the end of its momentum.
As one could imagine, such a thing was endlessly frustrating. Because despite how much Olruggio wants to dive in after the proverbial stone, something keeps him rooted at the shore. So day after day, he is only ever able to throw a stone and watch it sink.
“Master Olly!” A shrill voice shrieks within his ear causing him to wince at its proximity.
“I ain’t your master.” Olruggio says reflexively, letting out an oof as weight drops itself across his ribs. He moves his arm draped over his eyes to find a wild mane of curly pink hair. “What’s it now lassie?”
“Master Qifrey wanted you to know dinner is ready!” Tetia says brightly, elbows digging into his ribs as she props her chin up smiling broadly. “He says if you don’t come out to eat he will lug you out himself!”
“Well we wouldn’t want that now, would we?” Olruggio muses running a hand through his rumpled hair.
Tetia hums, plopping her head down on his ribs as she kicks her feet off the side of his hammock. “I don’t know, I think it would be kinda funny actually.”
Olruggio squints at the pink haired girl, wrapping an arm around her shoulders as he ruffles her hair in response. Tetia breaks out into bright laughter kicking her feet in protest as her arms wave around wildly. “That was a rhetorical question lass.” He says holding the pink girl under his arm as he climbs off his hammock. Tetia giggles, hanging like a sack of carapace yams as he reaches the bottom floor of his workshop.
“What does rhetorical mean?” Tetia asks as Olruggio sets the girl on her feet. Her wild mane of pink curls was doing its best to resemble the clouds she was working towards replicating with her magic.
Olruggio reaches out to further ruffle the girl’s hair, causing her to pout at him with a scrunched nose. “How ‘bout you ask your actual master, eh?”
Tetia’s head bobs up and down as she nods at him, having given up on taming her curls as she races out of Olruggio’s workshop. She uses her sock clad feet to slide across the wooden floors that make up the hallway to the main building of the atelier with a wild wave of her arms for balance. Olruggio chuckles as he follows after the girl, being met with the wonderful scent of a hearty beef stew as he enters the living room.
“Master Qifrey!” Tetia calls as she jumps down the steps to the kitchen, Olruggio winces as her feet thud audibly against the tiled floor. “There's no need to lug Master Olly out now!”
“Try not to run darling, we don’t want a trip to the hospital now.” Qifrey scolds lightly, not even turning around from where he was setting the pot of food on the table. Coco was at his hip with a stack of bowls, helping set the table with her usual enthusiasm. “And how wonderful for you to join us, Olly.” Qifrey says as he straightens up, tilting his head at the mess of Tetia’s hair with an amused smile.
“Well, I was under threat of my dignity,” Olruggio gripes as he ruffles Coco’s hair as the girl finishes setting out the bowls. “Smells good, though I don’t think it needs to be said.”
“I didn’t think you had any dignity left.” Qifrey quips, stirring the stew with the ladle allowing the enticing smell to waft through the air. Olruggio chooses to ignore the other man with a roll of his eyes.
“I helped!” Coco says cheerfully as she reaches up to grab Olruggio’s wrist in an effort to stop his attack on her hair. “I cut the vegetables! Not the onions, my eyes kept watering trying to do those.”
“Well done lassie,” Olruggio says in response. Surrendering in his efforts to mess with Coco’s hair as Qifrey swats at his shoulder with a dish towel he had thrown over his shoulder. Coco beams up at him with the praise, quickly brushing down her hair as Tetia tugs at her arm.
“Mine do that too!” Tetia says pulling Coco with her as she crawls to her spot at the table. Qifrey reappears with a platter of bread, Agott and Richeh following him having been called to dinner. Richeh had brushbuddy curled around her neck, the fluffy creature sniffing at the bread platter with unhidden interest. Agott was nose deep in a book, where the girl finds all the books she gets her hands on, Olruggio has no idea.
Olruggio takes the platter of bread, stealing a slice as he sits down beside Coco with a sigh. Tetia wastes no time in reaching across the table to snatch a slice of bread from the platter, followed by Coco reaching for one more politely.
“Agott put the book up dear thing, it’ll still be there after you eat.” Qifrey says as he takes his seat across from Tetia. Agott grumbles under her breath, eyes quickly flicking over the page as she ever so slowly closes it. Olruggio chuckles at the girl’s stubbornness
Richeh sits beside her master, being the first to reach for the ladle to serve herself. A beef stew was on the menu for the night, a deeply rich brown broth with steam gently drifting into the air as Richeh lifts the spoon. Olruggio could see the carrots that Coco had helped cut, a little uneven but no doubt just as tasty. Olruggio feels the mundane stresses of the day lift from his shoulders as dinner continues around him, content to sit within the moment and enjoy the hard earned domesticity.
It was here that the strange feeling creeps back into the back of his mind. A sense a déjà vu, or the stifling sense of foreboding. Which was odd, Olruggio thinks as Agott finally tucks a bookmark into her book and rests it on her lap the allure of good food finally winning against the obsession of a good book. Last he was aware the world was continuing to turn as it should be. Everyone was safe and in his view, even brushbug. The little creature was trying to sneak into the soup only to be caught by Qifrey, squeaking indignantly at not being able to steal the piece of mushroom it was aiming for as the girls laugh.
Olruggio brings a spoon of stew up to his own mouth, not paying any mind to the heat as he chews on the thick cubes of slow cooked beef. His attention is caught by the white haired man at the other end of the table as the girls find themselves in the midst of a heated debate about what was objectively better between apple juice and orange juice. Obviously the answer was wine, but the girls were a bit too young to come to that natural conclusion.
It was these moments that Olruggio had always thought best suited Qifrey. Granted, any moment could suit the man, but Olruggio enjoyed being privy to the boring ones. There was nothing special about them. No need for any poetic prose that would be filled with pretty words. It was just dinner, settled around the table with the girls like it was any day of the week. Olruggio and Qifrey had shared dinner what feels like thousands of times before in a myriad of different scenarios. From huddled around a fire as they camped, to the finest dining establishment Olruggio would make Qifrey his plus one when noble customers insisted on it. He hopes there will be a thousand more dinners shared between the two of them. Hopes most of them will be like this one.
The soft lighting of the atelier embraces Qifrey in its warm glow, painting the man in strokes of subdued golden light. Qifrey was watching the debate between his apprentices with his chin propped on his hand not trying to hide the fond amusement that curves his lips upwards. If only Olruggio had his charcoals on hand, he would study the bow of the white haired man’s lip until he could outline it without looking. Though Olruggio doesn't want to overstate his proficiency with the medium, nothing could ever be as entrancing as ones muse itself. Qifrey’s singular glacier blue eye finds Olruggio from across the table, the curve of his mouth broadens to reveal the dimple in his cheek. Such a rare sight it was, disappearing like a pebble sinking under the waters surface.
“Master Qifrey, what do you think?” Agott asks, her empty bowl pushed out in front of her. Olruggio hands the girl a napkin for the bits of stew sticking to the corner of her mouth. “Obviously orange juice, yes?” Beside her Richeh scrunches her nose in protest, though unable to voice it as she was working through her second serving of stew.
Qifrey hums, stalling out his answer as he chews his last spoonful of his own stew. “Honestly, I much prefer lemonade.” Olruggio snorts around his bite of bread as the girls voice their disapproval at the answer.
“What about you Master Olly?” Coco asks, stretching her arms out on the table as Tetia stacks their bowls.
“Eh, don’t have much of a thought on the matter.” Olruggio waves his hand. Qifrey brow raises in amusement, already knowing Olruggio's true answer. “All are perfectly serviceable choices.”
“Boo! That’s not a fun answer,” Tetia whines. “You could’ve at least said fruit punch or something would’ve been more interesting!”
“Sure lass, we can go with that.” Olruggio nods, fruit punch was close enough to wine if you took a liberty or two. He patently ignores the protest in his knees as he stands up, grabbing the dishes that were free of food.
“Oh! Could we play the game that we bought at the market?” Coco asks Qifrey, immediately catching the interest of Tetia who takes to pleading with her puppy eyes that the girl has quickly perfected. Richeh and Agott perk up at the mention of whatever game they bought. One that had come in a colorful box that Olruggio had gotten a headache from just looking at.
Qifrey nods in easy agreement “Just one round, you lot should be washing up soon.” Tetia and Coco cheer at the allowance, quickly skipping off to the living room. Tetia latches onto Agott’s arm, dragging the girl with her impatiently. “Richeh bring your bowl back when you're done!” Qifrey calls after the girl, brushbug scampering along with the four apprentices.
Qifrey helps Olruggio gather the rest of the dishes, settling the lid on the stew with a quiet click of the stoneware to keep brushbug from sneaking into it. The little creature had done it once before. Qifrey was remaking a bone broth and had left it to help one of the girls with a spell. It was quite a sight to find, the brushbug almost becoming one with the broth itself. Still hasn’t seemed to learn its lesson though, always trying to steal itself into food or woodcuror whenever it sees an opportunity to.
The two fall into easy routine as they bustle around the kitchen. Olruggio takes to washing the dishes as Qifrey dries and puts them up. The girl’s voices drift from the living room as they play their game, lulling only briefly as Richeh brings her bowl in before dashing off to not miss her turn. Olruggio sinks into it, the laughter of the girls and the absentminded humming of Qifrey as the white haired man wipes down the counters of the kitchen.
“You were awfully quiet tonight,” Qifrey says leaning against the kitchen island as they finish with the cleaning. “Everything alright?”
Olruggio stills at the question, the whisper of an apology from unmoving lips accompanied by a gentle rustling of leaves. He shakes his head, dispersing the sweet smell of wood sap that has no origin. “Just been sleepin’ weird.” Olruggio says with a shrug, mirroring Qifrey as he leans against the counter. “Can’t seem to shake the feeling that I’m forgettin’ somethin’.”
“Huh,” Qifrey tilts his head, brow furrowed in concern. “Is it work related?”
“No.” Olruggio says, confident in that much. There wasn’t much he forgets when it comes to his work. Olruggio has spent years paving and maintaining the reputation and clientele he has now. It wasn’t earned through a lackadaisical approach, despite what his critics might think. He remembers his brief time working in the Assembly, the privilege it was presented as to be able to have his name credited for projects. There were many witches he still keeps cordially involved with, still stuck trying to get their names noticed by those willing to share the credit. Olruggio has no intention of returning to that slog, much preferring to keep his right to reject a commission and not have to lose sleep about it. “I don’t know what it is, I just know I’m missing it.”
The best way Olruggio could describe the feeling was as if he was standing in a room in the dark. He’s walked this room thousands of times before so realistically he should be fine. But everything has been shifted off center by an inch or two in different directions. And suddenly he’s running into corners that shouldn’t be there.
“That’s awfully frustrating.” Qifrey says with an understanding smile. “Why don’t you go sit with the girls? While it doesn't help per se, I’ve found company and good tea can make trying to piece it together much easier.”
“Says the man famous for not wanting company.” Olruggio quips, scratching a hand through his beard. A bit embarrassed at voicing this particular problem to Qifrey of all people. “Aye, I suppose you are the expert on this eh?”
Qifrey laughs, shooing Olruggio out of the kitchen with gentle shoves to his shoulders. “Off with you now, go make sure the girls aren’t trying to do a second game.”
Olruggio waves the man off, making his way up the stairs of the kitchen with little fuss. He pauses on the top step, turning with a smart ass barb on the tip of his tongue as he watches Qifrey go about preparing tea for the household. Willowgrape, Olruggio assumes, it’s the white haired man’s favorite and especially effective when trying to convince four stubborn pre teens to sleep. Olruggio has always been more of a fan of thornbark himself, addicted less to the taste than the effectiveness of the tea waking him up in the morning especially after long nights.
Yet the image of slender fingers reaching for the tea leaves imparts a different picture as he blinks. Pale hands, ones he's memorized better than his own, reach for him with a bracelet of pale silver around their willowy wrist. Olruggio rubs at his temple, a headache forming at his brow as the easy words he wanted to speak leave him like a stone under the surface of water to collect at the bottom of a lake. The sense of foreboding roots his feet to the stop of the stairs. It strikes him then, grief, quick and sudden like the weight of Tetia crashing into him for a half planned hug.
Qifrey turns to grab a platter and tea cups, pausing as he finds Olruggio’s leaden feet keeping him at the top of the stairs. “Olly?”
They’ve been here before. Blindly navigating a room no longer familiar in the dark. However Olruggio has a funny feeling Qifrey was the one shifting the furniture around. “Why am I mourning you?” He asks. The grief he feels wasn’t something new, it was old. It has made itself a part of his very marrow and beats to the same rhythm as his heart. “What aren’t you telling me?”
And reflected back at him is the same grief in Qifrey’s lone eye. A desperately pleading thing, there and gone as quick as a rabbit desperately racing from the encroaching maw of a wolf. Qifrey smiles like a liar. Gentle and soft, perfectly tailored to persuade those around him everything is fine. Olruggio hated it. Hated it and grieved it in the same inhalation. This wasn’t a moment he wanted to preserve in charcoal. Wasn’t the conversation he wanted to have while the girls played their mildly nauseating to look at board game five steps away from him.
“If I promise we can talk later will you drop it until the girls go to bed?” Qifrey asks, almost drowned out by the girl’s voices as they squabble over whatever Richeh had done during her turn. “Please, Olruggio.”
Olruggio scratches a hand through his beard. “Fine.” He sighs gruffly, making his way to the couch to keep an eye on the girls. Soon after Qifrey follows, handing out the tea and settling on the floor beside Olruggio with a tension to his shoulders.
. . - . - - - . - . - - . - - . . . . . . - . - - .
Olruggio must have drifted off to sleep on the couch, lulled into the sense of comfort that comes with having the people he cares about in one place. His back cracks as he stretches his arms above his head with a groan. The faint of sizzling is accompanied by the scent of freshly cooked bacon, wafting through the open air between the kitchen and living room enticingly.
Groggily Olruggio pushes off the blanket that was draped over him. Shuffling into the kitchen to be greeted with the sight of Qifrey tending to breakfast with a healthy spread already set out on the kitchen island. The white haired man peers over at him with a smile, “Morning Olly, sleep well?” He asks cheerily. When the man had become a morning person is beyond Olruggio.
Olruggio grumbles, making his way to the cup of thornbark tea still gently steaming beside the kettle. “Our couch is unreasonably comfortable.”
Qifrey’s laughter rings through the kitchen as Olruggio sneaks up behind him. It fills in the space as if it was always made for it. To Olruggio these moments with Qifrey were ones he never wants to forget. The way the man’s shawl sits around his shoulders as he cooks, the shuffle of his slippers stone floor as he moves through the space he designed. Olruggio reaches for the bacon already plated beside the white haired man as stealthily as he can, only to have his hand smacked away just as he was in reach. “Would you be a dear and set the table?” Qifrey asks not even turning to face him.
“Aye,” Olruggio mumbles, quickly snatching a piece of bacon as Qifrey flips the pieces in the pan. He snickers triumphantly as Qifrey shoos him away with a fake glare. In the back of his mind he thinks there was something he had meant to talk to Qifrey about, but as he reached for the plates tucked away in the cabinet he can’t seem to recall what it was. Must have been a client, Olruggio thinks. He always enjoyed informing Qifrey of his more eccentric clients. Either way, he’s sure if it was important it will come back to him at some point.