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“What is this? What are you doing?”
Olly tilts his head at Qifrey, but keeps his hand raised in between them. “It’s a pinky promise! Here,” he grabs Qifrey’s hand and wraps their smallest fingers together. “It means you swear on it. If you break it– I’ll cut off your pinky!”
While Olly smirks in a way that makes his already sparkly eyes shine more, Qifrey grimaces. He takes back his hand and holds it closer to his chest, still warm where Olly touched him gently. “That’s morbid. What happens if you break it?”
“Duh,” Olly shrugs his shoulders. “Then you can cut off mine.”
The cafeteria bustles around them, larger groups gathering around the long, wooden tables. Meanwhile, in their typical corner, the pair sat alone together. Be it from Olly’s untouchable status as a prodigy, or from Qifrey’s as a cursed child, they are relatively left alone while someone enjoys two cold desserts.
“I don’t know why you like that flavor so much.” Qifrey furrows his brow. It was graduation season again in the Great Hall, and in typical Lord Beldaruit fashion, they’ve been serving an eccentric array of cakes throughout the whole week. “Won’t your stomach hurt if you ate so much cheese?”
Olly sharply looks up from scarfing down a large slice of cheesecake. He’d gotten two servings to share between them, but Qifrey isn’t as preferential as him to the flavor.
“You’re kidding,” he says while wiping the corners of his mouth with his sleeve.
“Kidding for what?” Again, Qifrey deeply frowns. Was this another Thing he didn’t know about? “I am completely serious. You said you can’t take dairy well before.”
He laughs and casually punches Qifrey on the shoulder. “Cheesecake isn’t made out of cheese, idiot! Well, not the same as the one in, like, mashed yam and cheese.” Olly lifts his spoon up with a healthy portion of the dessert on it. “C’mon, try it! It’s not that sweet, and it’s so good when it’s still cold.”
Qifrey subconsciously leans away from the gesture. He feels cross-eyed looking at the spoon, but looking up to make eye-contact with Olly felt too personal. “Didn’t I just swear to not touch your desserts?”
“That’s only ‘cos I thought you don’t like it,” Olly pouts. “I’m not one to gatekeep the brilliant taste of cheesecake, so take a bite!”
Olly laughs at him again when he eventually tries it and winces from the taste. Qifrey thinks about lying a bit to not so outwardly question his friend’s preference, but the distaste is so clear on him he misses the chance to. After all, he’s always been horrible at lying or keeping things from Olly.
“…I guess I like the crust.”
Olly licks his lips and finishes the rest of the plate. “Then I’ll save that part for you.”
“Don’t you dare drop me!” Qifrey screams, but his voice can’t even reach his ears over the strong gusts of winds flying by. “Olly!”
Despite being silenced by the rushing air as they fly high above the sea, Olly’s laughter is easily heard, being pressed into his neck with how they’re holding each other. “Watch me do a flip!”
“Do not–”
Qifrey tightens on his grip as Olly lets the two of them fall, the body of water quickly getting larger as they accelerate downwards. He shut his eye and sucks in a deep breath breath, before Olly clicks his heels together to lurch them back upright. A bit of water splashes against Qifrey’s back, bringing out another bout of giggles from the boy carrying him.
Due to their recent escapades out of the Great Hall, Lord Beldaruit and many of the witch masters agreed to suspend the main Windowway for the time being. Though, that didn’t stop the two from using the regular entrance and flying across the sea that surrounded it. Qifrey enjoyed it at first, except that had only been because he was flying by himself. It’s much easier to face the rapid winds when you know you’ll treat them seriously.
He laments the loss of his sylph shoes, of which was claimed by the muddy terrain they explored just a few moments earlier. So not only is his stomach stuck airborne, but his toes are fully exposed too.
When they finally land on solid ground, Qifrey’s legs are wobbly. He instantly falls over, feeling the small need to gag as Olly pats his back.
“Cancel the promise, I regret trusting you to fly!”
Olly sticks out his tongue. “Can’t cancel a pinky promise. That’s the rules.”
“You definitely made that up,” Qifrey argues. “Where did you even hear about them? Easthies called it a commoner thing.”
“Ew,” Olly grimaces at the mention of their annoying batchmate. His presence wouldn’t have bothered them as much if only he wasn’t constantly by Vinanna’s side when she—cough, scolds them to Lord Beldaruit. “Promise me to never listen to that dumbass?”
Olly lifts his hand again with his pinky out, smiling easily at Qifrey while he remains dry heaving on the floor. Qifrey smacks the hand away. “Promise me to never fly us over the sea again first.”
“Aw, don’t be like that!” Qifrey pulls himself up from his knees to stomp away without the other’s help. Olly quickly follows, skipping after him. “I’m the better flier!”
Qifrey sharply pulls down a part of his skirt so that it laid flat against the other layers of clothing. Well, it was already flat, but appearing to fix it gave him something other to do than to indulge in the whispers around him. He hates to have come to the party, even if the Lord of Friendship required it of all the apprentices at the Great Hall.
It’s– exactly for that reason as well.
“Is that Qifrey,” he hears a breathy question from someone behind him. He doesn’t want to turn around, focused on watching the chandelier drift softly from high above them. The light hurts his eye a bit. “Where’s Olruggio, then?”
He grimaces at the question. Of course they’ll be searching for Olly. He’s almost as bright as that glass-made chandelier, hanging high on the ceiling like a sun in the middle of an ocean. If Qifrey had the patience to explain it to that murmuring witch, he would say that If you needed to ask, then you don’t deserve to find him. He’s clearly hiding from you too!
“He’s so pale,” another person snorts. They only say it in passing, because Qifrey finds that the voice fades away by the next sentence. “The jelly here is good.”
Qifrey pokes at the portion of jelly in his hands. It is good, yet it’s tasteless without anyone to talk about it with.
“Did you guys get into an argument or something?” Qifrey jumps when a much closer voice invades his privacy. “Ohhhh, you guys totally did. Gonna sleep on separate beds later, aren’t ‘ya?”
When he lifts his head up from the royal blue transparent dessert, his eye locks onto a witch his age with fox-colored hair. In the matching, ruby formal robes of Vinanna’s, he looks like the personification of something rusty. The boy’s plain face is unrecognizable to Qifrey.
“And you are?”
The man sputters. “I’m Utowin!” Qifrey’s frown remains on his face, still clueless to who this bumbling yapper might be. “Of Ghodrey? I came to the Great Hall at the same time as you and Olruggio!”
“Oh,” he says, though the only words he recognizes are Ghodrey and Olly. “Hi?”
“Ugh forget it,” Utowin groans while leaning on the same wall Qifrey was. They look out towards the rest of the party, having fun and dancing in pairs. It’s a stark difference to the numb boredom he was experiencing alone. “You’re not the only one with woe troubles. You see that guy over there–”
“Easthies?” A sour tinge fell on Qifrey’s tongue. Utowin pointed at the oily-haired boy across the banquet hall, who happened to be talking with Olly. He even offers a hand out in what can only be an invitation to dance. Qifrey looks away with his fists clenched.
Utowin is unconscious to Qifrey’s animosity towards him, rambling onward, “Yeah, him. He’s been hella mad at me for messing up practice earlier this week. Three days! He hasn’t spoken to me in three days!”
Qifrey chews on a fingernail. He and Olly did have an argument, though obviously not for something so simple-minded like these simple-minded Knights apprentices. He forgot what even caused it; they just started yelling and it ended with Olly shouting back Fine! before running out of the room. It happened so fast and left him in such a shock that Qifrey immediately lost him by the first turn of the hallway.
It was also probably for a stupid reason. He didn’t know when was the last time they spent more than a day apart, like this.
“Hey, I mean, since we’re here,” Utowin says while holding out his palm facing up, “do you want to da–”
Like how Qifrey harshly tugged on his skirt earlier, someone tugged on his arm just as roughly. A familiar voice tickles his ear from the proximity. It makes his stomach soar, as if they were flying outside of the Great Hall again. “Excuse me, he’s my dance partner.”
Olly turns him around through his shoulder so that they’re facing each other and Utowin fades from his field of vision. As he hastily pulls them away from the wall, Qifrey could hear something along the lines of Jeez, it’s not like I was going to steal him from you… Easthies! Look, now even they’re back together!
But Qifrey doesn’t pay him any mind. He’s too busy staring at Olly, who had a heavy-sloped frown on his face. The expression creases his forehead in a way he hasn’t seen before. Even during their argument early yesterday, he hadn’t been that mad.
They squeeze their way right into the center of the hall, causing another dancing pair to hesitate before making room for them. His hands start sweating as he imagines the string quartet judging them for their intrusion.
“Uh–” Qifrey stumbles over his feet while trying to fix his grip on Olly’s. “I don’t know how to dance this one. Or dance, period.”
He desperately wants Olly to start laughing at his face, acting as normal as to how they usually did when dealing with Knights apprentices. But this time, he grumbles in annoyance.
“Huh?” Is he still mad at him?
Olly looks away briefly, his cheeks becoming rosy yet golden from the light under the chandelier. In their hold together, he lifts his pinky. “Promise me you won’t look at anyone else. Just look at me.”
A pang runs straight through his chest. It has become a weirdly familiar and comforting feeling, because it typically meant that Olly did something touching for Qifrey. Despite how it claws against his heart and lungs, he holds the pain deep inside so that it doesn’t plaster itself on his face for the other to see.
The whispers around them fade away, exchanged for heartbeats and faint breaths. Just as what is requested of him, Qifrey ignores the gazes of anyone who isn’t Olly.
Qifrey extends his pinky with a tiny smile. “Easy.”
With his hands constantly shaking, Qifrey has a hard time setting the correct dial on the Windowway. Thankfully, no one other than Olly is paying him any attention.
“Are you really that nervous,” Olly says, idly chewing on a stick of cured beef jerky. His other hand is tucked into his pocket, and Qifrey sorely hoped to do the same. “I heard you passed the Librarian’s Trial with flying colors. Or did it shake you up a bit too?”
Finally, he gets the correct alignment of seals so that they show the anchored Windowway across the lake of the Tower. Qifrey ignores Olly’s question, not wanting to think about that for now.
“We’ll be on our way now,” Qifrey yells back to Lord Beldaruit at the gate of the parlor. He’s chatting with the younger children who happened to follow them until this point, entertaining them with sculptures made of bubbles. His master merely laughs and waves a slow hand at the pair ready to embark on another journey.
As he picks up his sling bag and rushes through, Qifrey once again ignores Olly’s inquisitive look. Though, it isn’t that easy to escape from it, with Olly being Olly. Just as the step through and the Windowway shuts behind them, he grabs his wrist carefully.
“Qifrey, relax! You know all of the spells I know and–”
“But you don’t know,” Qifrey says suddenly. The Tower is right in front of him, though protected by a lake monster. It’s the goal he’s set his entire self towards, and yet, while his feet are ready to book it towards the library, Qifrey’s hands can’t stop shaking at the thought of finally getting his answers. He wants to pull his wrist free from Olly’s grip, but he’s beginning to cave into the pang of safety the other often brings around him. “On who I actually am. I don’t either. This is something I’ve always wanted, but still I…”
A well-natured snort brings Qifrey out of his ramblings. When he turns around, away from the Tower and towards the Great Hall—towards Olly, his home and his light—he finds a face that brings back that familiar pain in his chest. “You really are an idiot, aren’t you?”
The pain vanishes as Qifrey blushes like a ripening tomato. “I’m serious, Olly! I’m terrified!” Now, even his legs fail him as he dramatically collapses into Olly’s feet. “What if I’m actually a dangerous criminal…?”
Olly flicks his fingers to Qifrey’s forehead. “I thought you promised not to listen to anyone else?” While teasing, he genuinely kneels down to Qifrey’s level, carrying a soft look in his eyes. “And who cares about your past anyway? You’re perfectly cool as you are now.”
Qifrey allows Olly to grab both of his wrists this time, clasping them together and up closer to his lips. It’s like he was whispering a secret to his fingers, tickling them with his breath.
“How about it? This time, I’ll make a promise to you.” Olly closes his eyes, overly serious with a pinky extended between them. “Qifrey, witch apprentice of the Lord of Teachings, Lord Beldaruit, passer of the three first trials of the Pentacle of Proving, star examinee of the Librarian’s Trial–” Qifrey barks out a laugh. “I, Olruggio of Ghodrey, promise you this:
“Regardless of past or future, I will always be by your side. Everything’s gonna be alright,” he flashes a radiant smile. “Trust me!”
Though initially hesitant, Qifrey ultimately caves into that small pinky finger. It’s as if it creates a bind stronger than iron chains or the force of gravity that keeps their world afloat. Because he knows, deep down, that the promises between them are just as strong.
“Then,” he says, trying to smile despite the growing pains in his chest, “I promise to accept your promise.”
And when he cries later on, Qifrey will cry about their harmless tradition being used against him.
“…What is this?” Qifrey nearly chokes on the air.
He was just about to leave—leave Olly, leave the atelier they’ve been spending months since their graduation working on, leaving the remains of the curse that haunts him—when Olly followed him out and raised an arm up to a nearly ninety degree angle.
“What are you doing?”
Olly tilts his head, an awfully nostalgic expression that forces Qifrey to smooth out another grimace on his face. “Are you going blind?” Probably. Olly’s previous confidence wavers, but his arm is still up as it is between them. He wiggles his fingers, confused on what to do next. “Er, well, I just wanted to wish you well on your travels. Like, a Witch Pact, y’know? Promise you’ll stay safe and do good–”
Qifrey wants him to shut up, shut up about well-wishes and swears and promises, so he pushes himself so much forward that he nearly trips to complete the Witch Pact. He tries not to visibly bite his lip, once his entire arm grows warm in the curled hold Olly had on him. Undoubtedly, Witch Pacts are more typical among witches, especially among those from the Great Hall. Maybe it was because of the triviality around the subject of their promises did Olly keep suggesting– or they kept using– the flimsy act of pinky promises.
Acting as if his behavior was normal, Olly merely bumped his forehead against their clenched fists. Qifrey attempts to do the same, even though what he really wanted to do is to collapse his entire body into the other’s chest.
He doesn’t plan on returning to their atelier.
“Huh,” Olly says while leaning on the doorframe of their atelier. “I wonder why we never did that before.”
Tipping his head to not show his dulled countenance, Qifrey mutters just loud enough for him to hear. “I wonder as well.”
Should he cut off his own pinky, when the partner he made the promise with has no recollection of making it?