Archive of Our Own

In the quiet of a summer night, Qifrey could not sleep.

He thought that he was long past these sleepless nights. At least, Qifrey thought that life would slip back into normalcy after everything ended. There’s no reason for it not to, after all.

The pact was made, and now a new stability is settling over their society. Coco, as per their agreement, was now safe and free to continue her lessons in the atelier, and her mother was permitted to see her whenever she wished to.

Despite all odds, they all survived. Maybe not completely unscathed, but being able to move forward was more than he could have ever hoped for.

Especially Qifrey himself. The seed has been extracted, and the strangling grip of silverwood had rescinded itself from his body. The journey here may have permanently cost his vision, but a lifetime of unease compared to one of blindness would be far worse. At least now, life would be a gentler breeze compared to the years he had struggled through.

He had his girls. He had Olruggio, his sweet, kind Olruggio, who had declared that he wasn’t going anywhere even after Qifrey confessed his sins the moment he recovered from his affliction.

That night was still vivid in his mind, the taste of salt on his tongue and Olruggio’s stubble rough beneath his fingers. It tickled his chin as he inhaled in the other’s breath, in the quiet moment their lips met.

Not our first, Qifrey whispered into his skin then, throat choked up and hoarse, and Olruggio laughed. Is that so?

He remembered wanting to recount it all to him, to restore him the memory that was rightfully his, but his dear Olly simply shut him up with another kiss.

Some part of him mourned that he could not see that radiant smile of his anymore. He tried to picture it the best he could against the nothingness ahead of him, the way his lips would curl and his eyes would twinkle like the stars that hung above their beloved home. Maybe the moonlight will hit just right and illuminate his visage, casting an ethereal glow upon him.

But nothing could compare to the real thing, he knew. He ran his hands through Olruggio’s face, reconstructing his image in his mind as he traced up his jaw and across cheekbones, letting the tips of his fingers dip into dimples that he had admittedly forgotten was there.

Qifrey let himself imagine it now, fingers twitching beneath the sheets as if attempting to remember the pattern of Olruggio’s skin against his own.

It was calming, having his mind trace over familiar features again and again, counting the number of times he would have passed over his eyebrows as if counting sheep.

His body sunk deeper into the sheets, and his thoughts started drifting. It was not long before his fingers stalled, relaxing, reaching into the beautiful void of oblivion that was coming to claim him—

Fear pierced through his chest and he shot up, gasping.

He cannot do it. He cannot sleep.

Qifrey pulled his knees up to his chest, his fists curling the sheets into his palm until his knuckles ached. Why? Why? Why?

Why was this still happening?

Two weeks. Two whole weeks since he woke up without that cursed affliction and he’s still unable to sleep properly. Is this it? Is this how it was going to be for the rest of his life? Unable to sleep, unable to rest, unable to let himself relax in the safety of his atelier because he instilled anxiety so deep into his bones that he could not root it out.

It came naturally to him, to fear the crackle of silverwood growth every time peace settled in his chest. It was an effective deterrent, just as water was, to keep him on edge and the parasite at bay.

Fitful sleep and random bouts of anxiety meant true safety. Qifrey accepted that. He never did think he was ever going to be free from it.

A sigh left his mouth in place of a strangled scream he swallowed back down. No, he can’t have the girls or Olly worrying. Qifrey just had to figure out a way to work around his problems.

Carefully, he slipped out of bed and slowly headed for the door, using a hand to glide across the left wall until he was met with the distinct rough wood of the door.

No use in trying and failing to go to sleep now, he thought. Maybe he’ll just find something to do to work the frustration off, like, ah, making an extra snack for the girls.

He stepped out into the dark and instinctively reached for his palm quire to sketch a quick spell to help light his way to the kitchen.

Embarassment only sunk in when he closed the circle and nothing happened. Right. Another thing he has to now live with that kept conveniently slipping from his mind.

He tore out the page and pocketed the rest, using his hands to feel his way down to the kitchen, gingerly descending the steps. If it was the day, someone would be assisting his way down, but he supposed it’s time for him to learn how to navigate his own home on his own—

His foot struck the air, sending him tripping down the last few steps.

A pained groaned escaped through his teeth. Qifrey bit his tongue to suppress it — he didn’t want to wake his apprentices or Olruggio up. It would be terrible for his image should they find him in this state.

“Qifrey?” The voice was distant and groggy and unmistakably Olruggio’s. Something very close to a cuss surfaced to the forefront of Qifrey’s mind.

“Olly!” He greeted as he shuffled to his feet, ignoring the dull ache in his knee, hoping desperately that he wasn’t caught writhing on the ground. “What are you doing up?”

“I should be the one asking you that question.” Olruggio was closer now. In fact, so close that Qifrey could practically feel his warmth by his side. “I heard a crash.”

“Ah, well,” Qifrey could feel his cheeks burning up, and he secretly thanked the stars that he had done away with the light spell so that Olruggio couldn’t see his face right now. “Just a small mishap. I was planning to make some snacks for the girls tomorrow. Like a… fruit salad?”

“Snacks?” Olruggio echoed. It was clear that he was skeptical, even if just slightly.

“I may be blind, Olly, but I know my way around my kitchen.”

“Aye, I don’t doubt that.” He paused. Then, “Couldn’t sleep?”

Qifrey cleared his throat. Then sighed. “No.” Nothing could escape his watchful eye, it seemed.

“What’s bothering yuh?” Olruggio asked lightly, slipping his hand into Qifrey’s and gently tugging him towards the kitchen. The warmth that was in his palm was now spreading up to his chest. “And don’t say it’s nothing.”

Qifrey gulped back down his reflex answer. He knew he should be honest. He had owed him that, at the very least. “…the silverwood.”

Olruggio’s fingers twitched in his hold. “We removed it.” A statement. The alternative would be too painful to voice.

“We did,” Qifrey reassured, and he could feel him relax. When his hip gently bumped into the kitchen counter he let go. “It’s just, well, you could say it’s haunting me.”

Running his hands over the countertop, he located his wooden mixing bowl and slid it out. Even though he could not perceive Olruggio now, he knew that the man was silently standing right by him, attentive and listening. Like he always has.

Then, he felt a plate slide right into the side of his bowl. The leftover mountain apples from this afternoon, Qifrey realised as he hovered a hand over it. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, dispelling a fraction of the heaviness in his chest.

It made speaking easier. “Every time I feel even slightly comfortable,” Qifrey said quietly, hands moving carefully to slice up the fruits. “I anticipate, and without fail I’ll feel it crawl and grow underneath my skin.

“I think my body has learnt to carry unease as an antidote. Which was good then. But I guess now I don’t know how to get rid of it.”

Silence drifted in to fill the space, but the ingredients finding its way into his hands were a reassurance that he was still here, working in tandem with him, matching his thoughts step for step. Even though Olruggio did not speak, Qifrey could hear him thinking loudly, probably trying to problem-solve in his head.

After a long while, Qifrey continued. “But it’s fine. It’s simply a consequence of the silverwood. I can live with it.”

“It’s not,” Olruggio cut in. “Fine, that is. Who’s going to want an eternity of anxiety? We’ll find a way. Maybe I’ll make something, I dunno. Am never going to let ya subject yourself to that.”

“That’s because you’re kind, Olly,” Qifrey whispered, as he added the last dash of sauce to the dish. He packed it up with a quick paper seal on the top and put it away.

The warmth wormed back into his hand the moment he was done, gentle in his grip. “It’s because I love you.”

Qifrey’s heart dropped. Instinct wanted him to let go, to react and back away, lest the roots, if not the decade-long guilt, consumed him.

But Qifrey held on, and let his heavy head rest, forehead kissing his shoulder. The words felt too thick in his mouth to repeat, so he settled for taking in his scent, of smoke and firewood and the glow of a flame.

“The girls an’ I are gonna make you feel so comfortable that yuh forget about all that, yuh hear me?”

A chuckle left his lips. “All of you already do.”

Qifrey did not speak of that spike of fear from a minute before.

Ever since losing his vision, his other senses have never failed him. Usually Qifrey could rely on them to detect a storm on the horizon, through the smell of petrichor trickling into his nostrils, the harsher winds that would drift past, or through the occasional, distant roar of thunder.

But it seemed that his luck has run out, for the dark clouds that crept up onto Naakiwan Downs were stealthier than usual.

Qifrey had been none the wiser until something cold bloomed on top of his head and his curious hand had come away wet. His suspicions were confirmed when another drop followed, landing on the back of his hand. And another into his unseeing eye.

Shit. Why did he have to insist on coming out alone today? Navigating the plains and searching for fresh ingredients was one thing — he had Olruggio’s newly made contraption to assist the picking — finding immediate shelter was a whole other problem.

The rain grew heavier, raindrops practically hammering down onto him. Water that splashed onto his head was sliding down his neck and into his clothes, past the cloak that was supposed to keep it all out.

He tried reaching for his palm quire to draw a water-repelling dome, but found himself frozen to the spot.

It was as if the cold had seeped into his bones, stealing away his autonomy limb by limb, muscle by muscle until he felt the ability to think slip away from his grasp.

It’s so dark. Qifrey’s mind spun. The patter of rain on the soft grass rang in his ears, it was loud, so deafeningly loud, so damn loud.

His lungs were starting to constrict — it was as if he was back in that box, a fraction of his consciousness in the waking world and water riding up to his nose, half drowned and fully soaked. Ears full with the crashing of raindrops on the lid barely an inch above from his head, each drop sounding akin to nails being driven into his coffin.

The darkness that stretched before him then was not any different to the one he was faced with now.

Breathe! His body wasn’t keen to listen. Move, Qifrey—

—it stopped.

His world instantly plunged into nothingness. The sound of rain ceased, and raindrops withdrew their attacks. A voice, harsh with audible worry, pierced through the empty void. “Qifrey!”

“Are you alright?!” Hands rough with years of crafting and burns make their way into Qifrey’s own, hands that he would recognise anywhere. Air was slowly, but finally, flowing back into to his chest. “Why did yuh just stand there? You could’ve…”

His ears still swam with the phantoms of the drumming rain, tuning out Olruggio’s concerned berating. But it didn’t matter, because he was here now, he was here with him, Qifrey wasn’t alone, wasn’t buried alive and left to die.

Unbiddenly he drew Olruggio closer, collapsing into his chest to greedily absorb all of his warmth and thaw his frozen body. Olruggio stopped nagging and sighed, gently wrapping his arms around him. “Let’s go home, Qifrey.”

Lucidity escaped him in brief moments during the trip home. Some part of him was still stuck deep underground, wet and soaked beneath that tree, while the other held onto Olruggio tightly.

By the time he finally completely came to, he found himself sitting down on soft, familiar material — the rug in the living room? His back was against the sofa, and his body seemed to tingle with warmth, the air circulating around him radiating a gentle heat.

Olruggio’s magic, he realised. It would be almost absurd if Qifrey didn’t identify it simply based on the number of times he had used it on him. He internally lamented the fact that he wasn’t able to see the kind, yellow glow of his magic any longer.

“Master Qifrey,” Richeh’s voice called from right above him, startling him.

“Richeh,” Qifrey tilted his head up, and felt his lips bow into a smile. His apprentices are becoming sneaky. “When did you get here?”

This time, it was Coco that answered him, giggling. “We’ve always been here! We got you tea.”

A warm mug was carefully passed into his hand, with his dear apprentices taking care to make sure that he wasn’t gripping onto the hot surfaces. Richeh spoke at the same time. “The four of us tried really hard to come up with a good combination with the Marktea slips we have.”

“Mhm!” Coco chimed in. “We’re not sure if you’ll like it though…”

Oh, his sweet, thoughtful girls. Warmth bled throughout his chest, warmer than the mug in his hands.

He gingerly took a sip, careful not to burn his tongue, and was pleasantly surprised by the burst of Willowgrape on his tongue, followed by a trace of Millflower and Halftea. They remembered his favourite flavour. “This is absolutely delicious! I didn’t know my dear apprentices were so talented in the art of tea-brewing.”

“Master Olruggio, we got it!” Tetia’s voice rang across the atelier, accompanied by hurried footsteps — not one, but at least two — that grew louder until it stopped right by his side. Qifrey heard Olruggio sigh, definitely thinking of correcting Tetia, but then did not say anything else, as if having thought better of it.

“We also have another present for you,” Richeh announced.

Another one? What else could they have possibly prepared for Qifrey? He set the mug down. “Oh? You’ve got me excited now.”

Something soft yet heavy was gently laid onto his palms, and Qifrey slowly ran his hands over it. It was a blanket, it had a weight of one he was sure, and as his fingers traversed the length of the heavy cloth he came across a few raised bumps that felt like embroidery.

“What’s this…” He trailed off when he went over the bumps again. If he concentrated hard enough he could make out the shape of a pointed hat beneath his fingertips.

The warmth of the air surrounding Qifrey ebbed away as Olruggio unlinked the ring in his hand with a click. “Try wrapping it ‘round yourself, Qifrey. You might be surprised.”

Qifrey did as he said, and instantly felt his body heat up again. It felt like it came from an external source, like Olruggio’s snugstone, rather than the reflection of his own body heat. “Did you girls make this?”

“We, um, noticed that you still weren’t sleeping well, Master Qifrey. Sometimes at night when I, uh, go to the kitchen to get water, I’ll find you awake,” Agott explained, sheepishness colouring the edge of her tone. “Even when Mister Olruggio is asleep. So Coco had this idea to make you a new blanket.”

“Yeah! We figured that the snugstone may be too small for you, so we wanted to create a big one, one that could hug you in your sleep, you know!” Tetia continued. “So Coco stitched the blanket, and the rest of us figured out how to work the snugstone’s magic into it. Including Master Olruggio!”

Qifrey could picture Olruggio shaking his head. “Of course I would help. It’s my magic after all. But Agott came up with the brillant idea to gradually disspate the heat within the blanket to keep a consistent temperature inside.”

Olruggio’s right. Despite being cooped up in the blanket for a while now, Qifrey didn’t feel any closer to overheating.

“And there’s embroidery. It’s little figures of all six of us holding hands. Tetia said that it would be nice if you were able to feel them even if you cannot see them,” Richeh added on.

“Is that so?” Qifrey could hear his voice cracking towards the end as he ran his hands across the blanket again. Yes, he could visualise it now, as he traced delicately weaved pigtails and long straight hair, going over a bob here and a short cut there, and a black ribbon upon one pointed hat as opposed to the tassels on the other five. A piece of art portraying his entire life, from the present and into forever.

“It’s— it’s beautiful,” Qifrey whispered, knowing that the lump clogging up his throat was going to betray him. What did he do in his previous lifetime to deserve the five of them?

“Oy, Qifrey. Don’t cry, yuh going to make the kids cry too,” Olruggio said, affectionately tapping the back of his head.

“Who’s crying?” Qifrey sniffled. “Thank you, my girls. I’ll cherish your gift for a lifetime.”

Qifrey nearly jumped in surprise when the first girl pounced into his arms to go in for a hug. It wasn’t long before the other three joined in one after another.

Irrational anxiety crawled out from the corner of his mind, and his body suddenly remembered to fear. Qifrey stiffened, spine snapping up and brain scouring for something, anything, to keep the silverwood— ah, right.

It took everything in him not to wholly succumb to it and jerk away. Qifrey forced his body to relax and sink into their hold, seeking to learn the comfort of family without pain.

He will not let it take this away from him.

The days trickling by were too peaceful.

So peaceful in fact, that his body felt too light. His muscles have been far too relaxed in the previous few weeks, free from physical or emotional stress. That shouldn’t be right.

Qifrey could feel his chest tightening at the thought, disquiet simmering beneath his skin. He shook his head to shake it off, and grounded himself by concentrating on the scritch-scratch of pens on the girls’ palm quires. His fingers sought the ground and brushed past the blades of grass to remind him of where he was. He was outside, with the girls, conducting a lesson on air magic. Safe and happy.

….safe and happy.

It only made his heart thump faster, gearing him up for an escape, but his body seemed to take a different route, his palms going clammy and his limbs locking up. The sounds he was trying so desperately to hold onto were fading, a persistent ringing gradually taking its place until it built up into an endless, ear-piercing screech.

The silverwood was gone, he tried reminding himself, but his flesh still clung to unease. He knew he was safe, truly safe, but his soul could only hold faith for his mind so much.

“Master Qifrey?”

Tetia? That should be Tetia. Her voice was swimming in and out of his consciousness. Qifrey blanched. It made him feel even worse that he could not see her, see his students and his surroundings. “Are you alright, Master Qifrey? You haven’t been really talking.”

Light footsteps approached from his right. “Master Qifrey, I need help with my spell. I don’t know why it’s not lifting up. I tried adjusting the arrows on all sides already but it—” Coco stopped. “Master Qifrey?”

“He’s sweating.” Agott’s voice floated over.

No. This can’t continue. He was worrying his poor students. “Sorry, girls. I’m fine.” His chest still felt short of breath, and a numbness was crawling up his spine.

“Is there, uh, anything we can do?” Coco asked, softening her voice towards the end. It was obvious they did not buy a single word he said.

Something furry brushed by his hand, and Qifrey noticed it with delayed interest. It spun around in his sweaty palm for a few moments, before scaling up his arm and settling right in the cradle of his collarbone.

Almost as if grabbing a lifeline, Qifrey took hold of Brushbuddy and ran his fingers through its fur, listening to its happy squeaks through the pads of his fingertips as he tried to focus on the sensations of patting and brushing it.

It was working, miraculously. His lungs were working again, his heart was slowing its assault on his ribcage, and he felt his soul return to himself.

It was then he realised that there was a weight — no, a few weights — leaning onto his sides and back, patiently waiting for him to come back, which made his lips quirk up.

Oh, how he adored his apprentices.

“I’m alright now,” he managed to vocalise, and this time it felt true. He was safe, and happy, and there was nothing wrong with that. “Thank you girls.”

He reached out and gently ruffled the hair of the nearest girl. Richeh, he inferred, from the fine, neat strands. Giving in to their frequent requests and styling their hair over the years had not failed him, it seemed.

“Alright, let’s continue with the lesson, shall we?”

The night started out just like any other night that Qifrey and Olruggio stole for themselves in between their busy schedules. A drink and a guilty snack or two, Qifrey lamenting that he hasn’t seen Olruggio in days (Olruggio argued that he couldn’t quite see him), then falling into a familiar rhythm of light teasing and reminiscing.

“It’s a wonder how our girls are so disciplined,” Qifrey was saying, as he bit into the bacon-wrapped bass jur that Olruggio made for them tonight. He had to stop to let out a delighted noise at the smoky, sweet flavour that burst into his mouth. “We were quite the problem children back in the day.”

“Me? Yuh was the one who led me astray.”

“Says the boy who insisted on following me around,” Qifrey scoffed, putting his fork down in favour of finding Olruggio’s hand. He didn’t have to search for long — the other knew exactly what he was looking for. It had become a recent habit of his, to fiddle with another’s fingers to be grounded in their presence.

Olruggio closed his hand over his. “Who told ya to be so charming and irresistible.”

Qifrey laughed. “Charming?”

“Why’d yuh think I’d follow you all the way ‘ere?” He could almost hear his bright smile. Then he felt him shift and close in, before landing a peck right on his lips. Qifrey didn’t let him back away until he returned one upon the tip of his nose.

“I kind of miss adventuring, you know,” Qifrey muttered wistfully. “Being reckless and sneaky with you. Looking forward to the wind and stars.”

“Well, we’re still being sneaky,” Olruggio said, probably with the sleeping girls in mind. "But if you miss adventuring… why not we go now?”

“Huh?”

True to all their previous exploits, they didn’t prepare much before they stepped out of the atelier. All they grabbed were their cloaks, a lantern, and the rest of their unfinished supper in case they went hungry while out.

Though, it was Qifrey who let Olruggio lead him this time, in contrast to their past adventures. He simply slipped his hand into Olruggio’s and let him take him out the front door and across the field.

They walked side by side in silence, fully content with just the other’s presence, warm and within reach. Even though Qifrey could no longer witness the grand landscape that once dazzled him as a child, its beauty transcended sight and still revealed itself to him. Through the gentle grass that caressed his legs, the cool, autumn wind that bit at his cheeks, the fresh air that filled his lungs, the messy chorus of chirps from nearby crickets — all was more apparent to him.

Conversation returned to them eventually, casual and inconsequential, interrupted whenever Olruggio spotted something (a deer!) in the distance, or when Qifrey heard something in the distance that Olruggio missed. Not dissimilar to those youthful, bygone days.

“Lake’s ahead of us now,” Olruggio observed some time after.

A terrible idea popped into Qifrey’s mind. But what is an adventure if not to carry out terrible ideas? “I’ll race you there. Winner gets to decide lunch tomorrow.”

“What! Wait—” Qifrey didn’t allow Olruggio time to react before he tugged free of his hold and dashed into the night.

A laugh bubbled up and escaped his lips when he picked up speed, feeling the wind whip across his face and tangle his hair but in that moment he couldn’t find it in himself to care. He stretched his arms out and pumped his legs even harder, relishing in the way his feet slapped the earth as he barreled through the fields with reckless abandon.

When was the last time he felt free?

He only came to a halt when he felt the grass thin out, and dramatically let himself collapse into the embrace of the ground. Moments later did he finally hear Olruggio arriving, huffing and puffing and laughing.

“Tired already, Qifrey?”

“I haven’t run like that in so long.”

“Mm. I couldn’t believe you made these old bag of bones run like crazy,” Olruggio groaned as he flopped down right beside Qifrey.

“We’re not that old,” Qifrey protested weakly.

“Aye, aye. Tell that t’me spine. Yuh can probably hear ‘em creak.” Qifrey could feel Olruggio lean in, touching his head to Qifrey’s own. “But I did feel young again.”

And there they laid like that, quiet as they surrendered their senses to nature.

As the lull stretched on, anticipation built between his muscles, yet to Qifrey’s surprise it failed to surface as the gripping fear from before.

Perhaps his body was finally starting to accept that it was truly gone this time.

“The sky’s more beautiful today. More stars than I remember,” Olruggio whispered.

Qifrey hummed.

“Oh, no, I didn’t mean—”

Qifrey shook his head and chuckled. “No, Olly. Just describe to me what you see.”

“…okay.”

Olruggio spoke of sprawling silhouettes of mountains, of the glittery surface of the vast lake ahead of them. The half-moon sitting satisfied in the middle of the water, surrounded by dazzling white dots of distant stars. The odd owlcat lying in wait upon the nearby treetop, staring intently into the dark night.

Qifrey listened as he carded a hand through Olruggio’s hair, working out the knots that the wind put into it.

Then Olruggio took hold of his hand. With a finger he drew an indecipherable shape onto his skin, then whispered, “Orion.”

Qifrey’s breath hitched. Is that…?

Olruggio continued, carefully tracing constellations into his palm and naming each one, making sure to catch all that there was in the sky for Qifrey to hold even as the stars shifted throughout the night.

He remembered. Their favourite activity out in the wild, back when they were children. It wasn’t uncommon for spotting constellations to turn into a race of who could spot more. And now that Qifrey couldn’t see the stars, he brought them to him.

He didn’t have to do that, Qifrey thought secretly, as he briefly interrupted Olruggio by pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

The brightest star was already in his arms.

Winter came early this year. That meant that outdoor classes became less frequent, while studying by the hearth grew more common in the atelier. Even Agott, who preferred working alone, frequently emerged from her room to study and read with the rest of the apprentices, for it was “too cold and gray” in the workspaces upstairs.

Today was exactly one of those days. All four of them were present, even though it was Coco’s personal coaching hours. Not that it was all that odd, for the girls have begun developing the habit of sitting in for one another’s coaching hours, just for the sake of spending time in each other’s presence.

Qifrey thought that it was a very sweet thing to do. Naturally, he encouraged it.

Here he now sat, the children and Olruggio’s gift wrapped around him in an attempt to craft himself a warm cocoon. He kept his focus on teaching Coco, who was sitting beside him, but he was still aware of the other three scattered around the fire.

Tetia was leaning against his side, probably reading a book, and Richeh sat a few feet away, scribbling furiously away at paper. By the frustrated scratching of her pen, it seemed that her new spell wasn’t working well.

Agott was a little hard to gauge, but he was pretty sure she was sitting on the other end of the hearth opposite the sofa, engrossed in her studies.

Qifrey then heard a grunt, and clothes shifting as someone behind him turned over. Right. The atelier’s favourite watchful eye was present as well, taking a nap on the sofa behind him.

Of course. Qifrey had kept him up last night to, well, indulge in pleasure, and after the cleanup and momentary cuddling Olruggio had gone back to work despite him insisting the man to come back to bed. It’s no wonder exhaustion seized him now. Amusement touched Qifrey’s lips at the thought.

Suddenly, he felt Tetia’s head loll to the side, almost falling into his lap until she caught herself and straightened back up. But it didn’t take long for it to happen again. Almost at the same time, he heard Coco let out a quiet yawn.

It seemed that Olruggio wasn’t the only sleepy one in the room.

“Are you tired, Coco?” Qifrey asked.

The yawn stopped midway. “Huh? Oh, no! No, Master Qifrey, I can continue.”

Ever his hardworking apprentice. “It’s alright, Coco,” Qifrey said, and in that moment Tetia gave up on sitting upright and flopped onto his leg to use it as a pillow. “Even Tetia’s taking a nap. Let’s take a break for now, shall we?”

“Are we taking a nap now?” Richeh asked. Another weight dropped onto his thigh, no doubt Richeh’s head. “I want to nap too.”

“...thank you, Master Qifrey,” Coco said earnestly, in the midst of yet another yawn, and leaned into his side to get some shut-eye.

Well, Qifrey had one more apprentice to convince into a break now. “Agott?”

“Hm?” A perfunctory response.

“Come take a break with the rest of us.”

“Are you all napping? It’s not healthy to sleep after lunch!” Agott protested.

Qifrey laughed quietly. “It’s okay to be unhealthy sometimes.”

“…But my spell,” Agott continued weakly. There was a waver in her voice, and Qifrey knew she would give in any moment soon.

Qifrey unwrapped the blanket around his shoulder and held it out for her to see. “Don’t you want to test out the warmth of the blanket you made?”

A beat. Then, “Well, it is quite cold right now…”

By the scuffles along the rug Qifrey figured that she had taken up refuge beside Coco, and Coco’s tiny little “Agott?” was only further confirmation.

With a flick of the wrist, he settled the blanket over all five of them, and he internally sighed in relief as warmth surged in and surrounded his frame. He could hear Agott let out a satisfied noise at her work, before muttering something about taking the opportunity to nap since she was already here.

Qifrey laid his head back on the sofa, smiling privately to himself. A hush had fallen over the living room, save for the sounds of the girls' adjusting in sleep, and a soft snore that he was quite sure belonged either to Tetia or Richeh.

He wished for times like this, where he could truly relax with his loved ones and bask in the same comfort that they always seem to have shared in the presence of each other. And now that he cradled it in his bosom, fragile and hard-earned, he was determined to keep and defend it to the very end.

Fingers slipped past his hair and caressed his scalp, causing Qifrey to startle. He didn’t know that Olruggio was awake all along.

“Sleep, Qifrey,” Olruggio muttered, voice muffled as if he was speaking through the cushions. “I can hear you thinking.”

Qifrey closed his eyes and let Olruggio comb through his hair soothingly, coaxing him to surrender to oblivion. The quiet breaths of the girls and Olruggio lulled his mind. The nerves beneath his skin were still. His chest was light with the comforting weight of the blanket.

In the quiet of a winter afternoon, Qifrey slept.