Archive of Our Own

Summer.

Olruggio wakes on top of Qifrey's bed, two days after their fourth test.

Despite only just waking from a nap, he yawns as he sits upright. "Qifrey?" he says when he doesn't see his best friend immediately.

"Here," Qifrey says. Olruggio turns in the direction of his voice and realizes he'd missed Qifrey with his first glance around the room, sitting on the floor with his back against the bed.

"You alright down there?" Olruggio rolls onto his stomach and cushions his head on his arms as he peers at Qifrey’s face in profile.

Qifrey exhales a quiet breath and nods, turning to offer Olruggio a small smile. "I'm alright."

Olly frowns, brow furrowing. "What's wrong?"

Qifrey chuckles as he meets Olruggio’s gaze. "I can't get anything by you, can I?"

"Damn right," Olruggio agrees. "Now spill."

Qifrey chews on his bottom lip and Olruggio feels a pit in his stomach and a wave of déjà vu. Somehow he knows, before Qifrey says a word, what he's going to say.

"I'm leaving."

"Leavin'?" Olly repeats, smiling dumbly. "Where are we going?"

Qifrey looks away from him, but Olruggio—he's always been good at ignoring the truth; he waits.

"…You can't come with me," Qifrey says after a moment, and even knowing what to expect, the words feel like a punch to the gut.

"W—what do y'mean? We—" We always explore the surface together.

"I know," Qifrey says in a softer voice now. He turns back to face Olly. "But I just—need to do this."

Olruggio bites his lip and this time, he's the one to avoid eye contact with Qifrey. "If this is because of what happened at the party—"

"No, of course not," Qifrey interrupts before he can finish the thought, but Olruggio is the one who taught Qifrey how to lie in the first place. Even when he doesn't know the truth, he can recognize the lie.

"Y'know it was my first time really drinking, I didn't mean to—"

"Olly, really, it's fine." Qifrey offers him a terse smile and Olruggio swallows and falls quiet. "It wasn't the party. It's only…I think it would be better for us to have some time apart."

"Better for who?" Olly asks before he can think better of it.

Qifrey smiles distantly. "I think I need some time to figure some things out on my own." His smile softens. "Don't worry, it won't be forever."

And that—that sounds like a lie, too.

—

Qifrey leaves a week later. It's not enough time, it's never enough time, but Olly can't find the words to make him stay, no matter how hard he tries.

"What is it y'need to figure out that I can't be there for?" he asks, but Qifrey deftly evades the question each time.

Finally, Olly concedes, because it's all he has left to do. "At least promise me you're not goin' off huntin' for the brimmed caps alone."

Qifrey's eye widens in surprise, and Olruggio forges on. "Qifrey, promise me. If something were t'happen to ya because I wasn't there to help—"

Qifrey touches his shoulder gently and stops Olly in his tracks. These days it's so rare for Qifrey to initiate any physical touch that all Olruggio wants to do is chase his hand when he pulls away. "Olly, I promise I will not do anything to put my life at risk."

Olruggio doesn't know why his words make his eyes start to burn, except that—well. Sometimes Qifrey's gaze goes so distant and Olruggio doesn't know how to bring him back and it's all he can do to beg him, don't go where I can't follow.

He just never realized can't didn't always translate to unable to. Sometimes can't was just as a polite rejection.

"Okay," Olly whispers. There's nothing else to say, but if Qifrey's leaving, Olly can't, he can't swallow his desires down this time. Olruggio grabs Qifrey's shoulder before he can turn away and pulls him into an embrace.

Qifrey is stiff for only a moment before his arms come up around Olly in return and he melts into the hug, hiding his face in Olly's hair. He stays there for so long that it, too, begins to feel like goodbye.

"You are going to do amazing things, my friend," Qifrey says with a smile when he pulls away. "I look forward to seeing all the wonderful contraptions you create."

"You're gonna write, ain't ya?" Olruggio snaps, suddenly overwhelmed. Qifrey's speaking like he won't be back for years, not months. "You'll know everythin' I'm up to."

"Of course," Qifrey agrees. He looks like he's about to reach out for Olly before he aborts the gesture and his hand falls back to clasp the other. "But you should take that job your master arranged for you. Who knows what doors it might open."

"Right, yeah," Olly says listlessly.

Qifrey casts Olly one last look before he turns to Lord Beldaruit and bows. "Thank you for everything, master," he says genuinely.

Beldaruit sniffs, hiding his face behind one sleeve. "Qifrey, please! There's no need for all of that. I'd better hear from you regularly, too, and I expect souvenirs whenever you find something that reminds you of me and I hope…" Like Olruggio, Beldaruit too seems unable to resist reaching for Qifrey in the face of such a heartfelt goodbye. He touches Qifrey's hair and then his cheek as he smiles. "I hope you'll come home soon. Be safe, dear boy."

Qifrey nods and turns to the open Windowway. He picks up his rucksack with one hand and reaches up with the other to pull the ribbon on his cap through his fingers, before he squares his shoulders and steps through.

And no matter how much Olly wishes he would, Qifrey doesn't look back.

—

Qifrey leaves during the height of summer—though that means little to Olruggio at the bottom of the sea. With Qifrey gone, he has no more reason to venture to the surface.

Of course, as the problem child of the Great Hall, Qifrey continues to follow him like a ghost. A few of the braver witches approach him to ask if the rumors are true that Beldaruit's ward has left, and Olruggio can barely manage the carefree smile as he pretends not to understand the question they're really asking and tells them that he'll be back soon with more confidence than he feels.

Freshly graduated, Olruggio has no routine to fall upon to distract himself. He spends a few days listlessly attempting to pick up unassigned contraption orders from the Great Hall, but even those are difficult when his brain feels like it's in a fog.

He's informed that now that he's graduated, he has until the end of the month to move out of the boy's dormitory.

"Would you like me to submit you for a one-bedroom atelier?" the residential assistant asks. "Requests directly from the Division of Teachings within thirty days of graduation are fast-tracked for approval."

Olruggio hadn't planned on needing an atelier in the Great Hall. He hadn't planned to take the job his master lined up for him either, regardless of how prestigious it was or how far it could take his work.

Qifrey'd had no intention of remaining within the Great Hall one day longer than he had to, so Olruggio had planned for a shepherd's hut in the Naakiwan Downs.

"Yeah, I'd appreciate it," he says.

—

Olruggio takes the job, and he hates it. He works on a team under the Head Contraptionist, who himself works directly with the Wise in Friendships.

The Head Contraptionist oversees every commission request that's made to witches in addition to facilitating any orders or requests that come from the high king himself. Though commissions can be submitted for a particular witch, every request is required to pass through the Great Hall regardless in order to keep track of the contraptions that end up in the hands of Outsiders.

In theory, taking a job under the Head Contraptionist has the chance to put Olruggio's name in front of the Wise in Friendships, the high king, and the other nobles.

In practice, it's too much paperwork and too little contraption-making. He forwards specified requests to the right witch, finds the right witch for the unspecified requests, and reviews the proposed seals and designs of the younger witches not yet granted the leeway that comes with time and expertise.

When he does get to make contraptions, he finds them boring and uninspired things; work that's been assigned, not chosen.

He moves into his new atelier, which is uncomfortably quiet after half a decade of living with dozens of other boys. It feels like a hassle to cook for one, so he ends up eating in the dining hall most meals.

Qifrey sends him a fluttergram a month after leaving. Olly stares at the paper bird on his windowsill until the sound of a door slamming out in the hall startles him back to himself and he picks it up.

He collapses into a seat at his worktable as he tears the letter open, devouring every scrap of Qifrey he can get.

Dear Olly,

I hope you're doing well. Beldaruit told me you took the job, do you like the people you're working with? Any new friends or interesting commissions to tell me about? Have you given any thought yet to the contraption you'll present for Silver Eve?

My travels have largely been quite boring thus far. I've helped fulfill the requests of a few smaller villages without a local witch, the sort of small jobs that never seem important enough for the Great Hall to send someone.

Most of my time has been spent sleeping under the stars. While I hope I never tire of the sight, I would be lying if I said I wasn't starting to miss having a bed to return to.

I'm not sure yet where I'll go next, but I think I'd like to make my way towards Dragonpass.

Don't worry about me and focus on looking after yourself, please.

Yours,

Qifrey

Olruggio stares at that one word for longer than any other, reading into its every possible meaning and reminding himself just as quickly not to. Yours.

He replies, complaining about the new job and the new coworkers and the familiar gripes about Easthies and the Knights Moralis, but he's careful not to ask too much of Qifrey. No question of how long he'll be gone or when Olly will see him next.

He's anxious for Qifrey's response before the fluttergram's even left his hands.

—

The party is in full swing downstairs. But up here, the sound is muffled when he closes the door of the library.

Qifrey looks up from his seat on the floor, where his knees are drawn to his chest and his arms are wrapped around his legs. It makes him look younger than he is—younger than they assume he is, anyway.

"What are y'doing up here?" Olly cries melodramatically.

"The party was giving me a headache," he says quietly.

"Well why didn't ya come find me first?" Olly drops down onto the floor beside Qifrey as he says it and flops his arms out on either side of himself.

Qifrey watches him and then quickly looks away when he's caught, and Olly feels a wave of déjà vu as he recalls the night in the in the sawbush bramble—they'd been in much the same position then, Qifrey holding his cards so close to his chest that Olruggio had to fight just to catch a glimpse—but Qifrey had been easier to read back then.

"You looked like you were having fun," Qifrey answers finally. "I didn't want to ruin it."

Olly scowls and pushes himself upright. "Ugh. You are so—"

Qifrey's brow furrows defensively. "So what?" he demands.

"So stupid!" Olly snaps. "It feels worse when I realize you were sufferin' alone while I was off messin' around! I'd rather be sufferin' with you than having fun without you."

Qifrey's face screws up the way it always does before he starts to cry, and Olruggio is drunk for the first time in his life and all he can feel is fond for that scrunched up expression.

"You shouldn't," Qifrey whispers. "You should stay far away from me, Olly."

Olruggio scoots closer and reaches out. He cradles Qifrey's cheek with one hand while the other curls into the hair at the nape of his neck. "I don't ever wanna do that, Qifrey. I'm gonna stay as close as you'll let me." Olruggio's gaze drops to Qifrey's mouth, just as Qifrey looks at his.

"You're drunk," Qifrey breathes, looking back up.

"Yeah," Olruggio agrees. "Sorry."

And then he leans forward and presses his lips to Qifrey's.

For one instant, Qifrey freezes. Olruggio starts to pull away, an apology already on his tongue, only for Qifrey to chase the motion. He rests his weight on one hand and leans into Olly's space. They're both clumsy and unpracticed, and it's perfect. Qifrey shoves gently at Olly's chest, pushing him to the ground as he climbs into his lap—

Olruggio wakes.

He rolls over with a quiet groan and brings a hand to his head as he takes a few deep breaths. Damn his treacherous mind. That wasn't how the night had gone, no matter how much he wishes it was. When Olruggio kissed Qifrey, he hadn't kissed back. He'd frozen for that instant, fingers curled loosely in Olruggio's cloak before he'd let go and firmly pressed Olruggio away with a polite rejection.

Olly scrubs his hand over his face, determined not to cry again. If Qifrey isn't interested in him, then Olly can be fine with that. It was awkward in the moment, sure, and Qifrey had beat a hasty retreat, but it didn't have to change anything. Olruggio had thought Qifrey knew that. He'd acted like everything was fine the next day, and he'd claimed the party had nothing to do with his decision to leave, but the timing felt too suspect to be a coincidence.

If he'd known that one act would chase Qifrey away like a skittish owlcat, he never would have done it. He would have buried his feelings deep down and never let them see the light of day. It's just…

It's just that Olly had been so sure. Qifrey could be hard to read sometimes, certainly, but Olruggio couldn't have been imagining all those signs, could he? The way Qifrey had looked at his mouth, the way he would stare at Olruggio when he thought Olly wasn't looking—

(The way he had stolen Olly's ribbon and clung to it with such desperate fervor when pressed to return it.)

Olly picks up his cap from his bedside table with a sigh and toys idly with the tassel. After graduation, a witch was allowed to design their own cap. He'd wondered whether Qifrey would return to a tassel (he hadn't) and if he should bring the subject up again, just in case (he didn't). Olruggio also hadn't gone back to his old ornament with his new hat, either, but Qifrey hadn't commented.

Olruggio groans and drops the cap on the floor so he can flop onto his stomach.

It's too early for this.

Fall.

Qifrey's letters, already sporadic to begin with, begin to taper off, as if he'd hoped to acclimate Olruggio to the lack of his presence. As if Olly doesn't find himself in a haze more often than not, broken only by Qifrey's brief return in the shape of those paper birds.

His final letter arrives on Olly's birthday.

A month before Silver Eve, Olly writes Qifrey two, then three times with no reply. He finds himself so worked up with anxiety, convinced that something's happened to Qifrey, that he goes directly to Beldaruit to ask for his help.

When Beldaruit fixes him with a pitying look, Olruggio knows before he says a word.

"Qifrey's…been writin' to ya?" he asks weakly.

"'Writes' is such a strong word," Beldaruit says airily, a bald attempt to make Olruggio feel better. "He tells me that he's alive and gives me a one-sentence reply after I've slaved over pages and pages of Belda-writing."

He sighs quietly when Olruggio's troubled expression doesn't ease and adds, "he asked me not to tell you."

Olly tries not to flinch, but the meddling old man is too perceptive for his own good.

"Olruggio," Beldaruit continues gently, "did you and Qifrey have some sort of falling out?"

"No!" Olly snaps instantly, then flushes, contrite. He's not even sure if he believes it himself anymore, but there's no way he's telling Beldaruit about the kiss.

"Alright, alright, I was only checking."

"Just…" Olly clenches both hands into fists and swallows hard. "Let me know if anythin' happens?"

Beldaruit nods. "Of course. You take care of yourself now, dear boy. You'll let me know if you need anything, won't you?"

"Yeah," Olruggio agrees distantly, "l will."

—

Everyone keeps telling him to take care of himself, but it just feels so hard. He buys a bottle of wine to take the edge off, then another and another until they start to pile up on his work desk and bedside table.

Olly doesn't plan to make anything for Silver Eve, despite Qifrey's prodding in his previous letters. He can't think of anything exciting, and he feels no motivation besides.

A month before Silver Eve, he musters the energy for a trip to the surface when Alaira all but barges into his atelier and tells him he needs to get some air and mentions a nice vineyard near an Outsider city down south.

He leaves in the late afternoon; something niggles at his brain from the moment he steps through the Windowway, but it's not until he's making his way down the path and into the city proper that it dawns on him. He glances over the side of the short cliff and spies the sawtooth brambles that confirm his familiarity: this is the first place he and Qifrey had ever traveled to together, although perhaps together is a strong word for it, when it had been Qifrey sneaking out and Olruggio giving chase.

Had it always been that way? Was Qifrey's decision to travel on his own simply the first time he'd finally put his foot down about Olruggio following him around?

He beelines for the vineyard on the other side of the city and gets spectacularly drunk so he doesn't have to think about the answer.

Unfortunately, that's how Olruggio learns that drinking too much makes him maudlin.

His gaze skips beyond the vineyard and up towards the mountain path, and he thinks about the sort of lies that only a friend would tell.

Qifrey is keeping secrets from him, but Olly is sure there must be more going on that he just doesn't understand yet. Something is keeping Qifrey away from him, it has to be. Perhaps it's arrogant of him, but Olly simply can't believe that Qifrey would end their friendship just because Olly holds feelings for him. Unrequited or no, that's not the kind of person Qifrey is.

The confidence bolsters him on his way back to the Windowway, passing through the market street where vendors hawk the last of their wares before the sun sets in full.

"You there, Sir Witch!" an older woman calls out to him. "Can I interest you in sausage in a bun? I'll give you a discount, since it's the end of the day."

Olruggio stops at her stall, inhaling the delicious scents and effusively appreciative in the way only a drunk man can be.

"I'll take whatever y'recommend," he says, already fishing out his coin purse.

The woman fixes a hard look on the two pre-teen boys standing nearby as she begins to fry the sausage on the grill. "You two better hurry on home now before it gets too dark." She glances back at Olruggio. "You too, sir. Witch or not, we've had a string of robberies of late and you'd do well to be off the street once you've got your food in hand."

"Come on," one of the boys says to his friend as he tugs at his sleeve. "She's right," he mutters. "I have a long walk home and I don't like making it in the dark..."

"I'll walk you back!" his friend volunteers immediately.

Olly smiles, reminded of him and Qifrey as the boys leave.

The merchant woman clears her throat and draws Olly's attention back to her so she can hand him the food. It's perfect fare for a drunk man, deliciously greasy and easy to eat while he walks. The bun is the right side of toasted, and she's added caramelized chrysanthonions and horncap mushrooms as toppings along with some unfamiliar sauce drizzled on top.

Olruggio takes a bite and groans in satisfaction; it's just as delicious as it smells.

His truly did appear to be the last of the ingredients at her station. She begins to pack up her supplies as Olly lingers beside the stall. He takes another bite, chewing thoughtfully before he swallows.

"Would you like an escort home, ma'am?" he offers courteously.

The woman giggles. "Oh, how charming you are! I would hate to impose."

Olruggio shakes his head. "It's no imposition at all. Y'said it's dangerous at night, and it's the least I can do for such a delicious meal."

"Well, if you're sure..."

She takes another ten minutes to close up shop and pack her supplies into a small pull-cart while Olly finishes his meal. He volunteers to pull the cart when she's done, grimacing at the weight when it's heavier than expected.

"My name's Olruggio, by the way," he says once they're walking. "But y'can call me Olly."

"Thank you again for your help, Olly. My name is Lalia."

Olly nods. "So y'said there's been a string of robberies in the area?"

Lalia nods. "Yes. It's not so bad around the full moon, when you can see more than two feet in front of your own damn face, but when she's wanin', it's a whole 'nother story. Look at this!" She tugs her hair over her left shoulder and out of the way before lifting her head for him to see the fresh scar that runs along her chin.

"Did someone do that to ya?!" Olly says, alarmed.

She shakes her head. "No. Not directly, anyway. The thief shoved me outta the way and stole half my goods and all my earnings from that day, while I hit the cobblestones wrong and got this for all my troubles."

Olly shakes his head. "It ain't right," he says in commiseration.

They make it to the woman's house after just over half a clock mark. Night has fully settled by then, and Olly, still tipsy, has tripped on several uneven cobblestones along the way. It's not much, but before Olruggio leaves, he finds a way to surreptitiously draw a small levitation spell on the bottom of Lalia's cart—not enough to actually lift the thing into the air, but enough to hopefully make it easier to pull from now on.

But her story stays with him all the way back to the Great Hall. It's not just the thievery itself that bothers him. It's a shame that witches can't share their lamps with Outsiders, since they rely on drawing a light spell for every use.

The conundrum sits with him all through work the next day as he handles other people's contraptions. Stationary lamps, high enough to be out of reach for Outsiders, with a permanent light spell encased in glass?

That might be annoying during the day, though. So some sort of trigger? It could be time-based, with a repetition seal?

It's viable, but it doesn't feel very...Olly. So back to the drawing board. Before he knows it, three days pass like that. He realizes that he hasn't sat at his work table for clock marks like this since…well. Since Qifrey left.

He tears through page after page of spell drafts. He thinks about the thief using the cover of darkness to hurt people, about the people who will stumble on the uneven cobblestones like he did without something to light their path. He thinks about the wonder on Qifrey's face the first time Olly had shown him a light spell, how he'd cupped it close and the warmth had turned his hair to gold.

Light sculpting? No. It's closer to what he's looking for, but still not quite right.

Something that could put light anywhere. Something that could be integrated into the already existing infrastructure seamlessly, that wouldn't require Outsiders to change their routine.

Something…on the cobblestones themselves?

Olly sits upright as the thought strikes him. He abandons the gold tassel he'd been playing with and shoves his cap aside.

Lighting the path itself beneath a person's very feet. He could inscribe the spell on the underside of the stone, but it would still need some way to trigger the spell on and off. Motion? Or weight…

Olly shakes his head. One step at a time, literally: first, to make the stones glow.

He grabs his cloak and heads downstairs to pilfer through the manicured garden nearby for a handful of stones to test with. When he returns to his atelier, he has half a dozen of the flatest rocks he could find. He doesn't know what a basic light spell looks like on anything other than a piece of paper, so that's where he decides to start.

When he completes the circle, he finds that the stone glows only within the circle itself. He begins to draft a new spell on a fresh sheet of paper to his right. A light sigil, then signs of dispersion in the four corners to diffuse the light through the entire stone. He sets aside his first stone and draws the adjusted spell on a second stone, breaking into a grin when it works.

Perhaps…

Olruggio tears out two pages from his palm quire.

The spell could be divided into two pieces, the outer ring on one side and the meat of the spell on the other. Separated with a levitation seal just like the one he'd left on Lalia's cart, to create an imperceptible lift that would depress with the weight of someone's steps.

Olruggio draws a ring on the first page.

The concussive blast is enough to throw him sprawling on the floor. The smoke makes him cough and Olly waves it out of his face, chagrined at such an amateur mistake.

Okay, so the ring on one side needs something within it to keep it from backfiring. He taps his pen to his lip in thought for a few seconds before he begins to draw again. First, the outer ring—unclosed this time. On the second page, he draws his light spell and then the final section of the ring, and presses the two sheets together.

It takes a couple tries to make sure the two portions of the ring line up to close properly, shifting the pages by centimeters in his hands, until the spell lights up both sides.

"Hah!"

Olruggio pulls one hand away, pursing his lips when the two sheets of paper naturally separate and break the spell.

He continues iterating on the spell for the next few hours, making slight adjustments each time. He attempts a sign of levitation between the two pieces of paper, but they're so light that even when he adds balancing signs around the edges of the seal, they end up misaligned more often than not.

And the stones, though useful at first, aren't flat enough to properly test with, which means his progress is halted until he can pay a visit to a stonemason in the morning.

Olly scrubs a restless hand through his hair and glares at the stones on his desk as if they're to blame. He just—now he's full of pent-up energy with no where to go. He paces his small workshop twice before he grabs his cap and decides to go downstairs in search of someplace still open.

His search leads him to a bar. He's surprised at how lively it is, but he supposes it makes sense when most everywhere else is closed at this time of night.

He finds a seat along the bar, raising a hand to flag down the barmaid and order a glass of wine.

"That's all you're ordering?" someone beside him asks.

Olly glances to his left, quickly sizing up the man. "Sorry?"

The man chuckles and nods in the direction of the barmaid's back. "She could whip you up something a little more fun than a simple glass of wine, that's all. Have you ever had a cocktail before, kid?"

"I'm nineteen," Olly says immediately, frowning. This guy can't be that much older than him.

The man's grin widens. "I stand corrected." He leans a little closer, crossing his arms on top of the counter. "I'm Kalal."

Olly purses his lips. "Olruggio."

"Olruggio," Kalal repeats, savoring the syllables of his name. He says it like Qifrey does, his accent suggesting that he's born and raised here in the Great Hall. "Well, you didn't answer my question. Have you ever had a cocktail before?"

Olly shakes his head.

"In that case…" The barmaid returns with Olly's glass of wine, and Kalal lifts his own glass to catch her attention before she can leave. "Can I get another glass of what I'm having for my new friend here?"

"Sure thing." The young woman winks at Olly as she pulls down a liquor bottle from the shelf and pours it liberally into a mixer. She adds some kind of juice next, then several sliced scarlet lemons and a dollop of honeytree nectar before giving it another good shake. Olly watches the entire process, entranced, before she pours a glass and sets it in front of him.

His first sip is hesitant before his eyes widen and he glances back at Kalal. "It's so sweet," he says in surprise, taking a bigger drink this time as Kalal watches him.

"Any guess what fruit juice she used?" Kalal asks.

Olly considers the question, taking another drink and this time trying to parse the different flavors. He takes a few guesses before he finally gets it right.

They spend over a clock mark like that. Olly finishes his drink and Kalal asks him questions about his preferences before ordering another cocktail he thinks Olly will like.

It's…nice. Olruggio can feel the man's eyes on him the entire time, and it soothes some bruised part of his ego to know that he's desirable to someone, even if it's not Qifrey.

The barmaid returns to them fifteen minutes before closing to give them a head's up and give them the bill.

"I've got it," Kalal says when Olly reaches for his coin purse.

Olly freezes. "Uh…y'sure?" he asks. "Those drinks seem pretty expensive."

Kalal nods. "It's fine," he says.

Olly rises to his feet while Kalal closes his tab, lingering uncertainly beside the bar. Kalal glances in his direction a few times, offering a shyer smile now.

Qifrey's face flashes in his mind and Olruggio swallows. "Er, thanks for the drinks," he says. "It was—more fun than I expected, talkin' to ya. But I should…go."

"You don't have to." Kalal collects his cap from the bar, tucking it under one arm as they both start towards the door. "I mean, my place is nearby. If you wanted to keep talking."

Olly hesitates, his thoughts returning to Qifrey, as they both slow to a stop right outside. He must hesitate too long, because Kalal waves a hand and looks away.

"Or not. You seem like you're unsure, so I will leave it at that. It was a pleasure meeting you, Olruggio. Perhaps I'll see you again sometime."

Olruggio's lips part, unable to look away from him, but he doesn't stop Kalal as he leaves.

—

The next day, Olly wakes with a hangover but no regrets. It takes him a couple clock marks to feel semi-functional, but once he does he makes his way to Kalhn to speak with a stonemason there.

He returns home with a box full of tiles tucked under one arm and immediately beelines for his desk. He tests the light spell alone—without the signs of levitation—first, nodding to himself in satisfaction when the signs of dispersion do exactly what he'd hoped and fill the entire tile with light.

He sets the tile aside, next to the still-glowing stones he'd used the day before, and picks up two more. At this rate, he's going to end up with a collection of glowing rocks.

This time he tests the next step adding the levitation sign and dividing the spell into two. The levitation works, but no matter how many times he presses the tiles together, the spell doesn't activate the way it had the night before on paper.

Frustrated, Olly slams the two tiles together a little harder until one of them cracks and he forces himself to let out a slow breath and take a break.

He pours himself a glass of wine, staring pensively at his workbench as he brainstorms. When he finally feels in control again, he returns to his desk (though he brings his glass with him).

He spends another half a clock mark like that, hunched over his desk and making adjustment after adjustment to no avail. No matter what he does, the spell won't activate. He pours himself a second glass of wine, then finishes the bottle and brings a second one back to his desk. Briefly, he considers slipping down to the pub he'd gone to the night before for one of the harder (and sweeter) drinks, but the thought of running into Kalal again keeps him in place.

Eventually, he concludes that it's not the alignment that's causing the problem. Rather, the tiles can't sit together as flush as two pieces of paper, so the combination of sigils and signs isn't being picked up as a cohesive, singular spell.

It's a refreshing puzzle after months of monotonous contraption review. More than that, it's the longest he's gone without thinking about Qifrey since he first left.

He turns the spell over and over in his mind for days between work and meals. He stays up late enough to make his mornings even more miserable, and whenever sitting at his desk becomes too much, he visits the baths or the pub or just doodles useless spells. He even finds the motivation to clean his atelier for the first time since moving in, chagrined as he gathers a frankly obscene number of wine bottles to toss out.

The solution hits him when he's studying the seal of a contraption designed to speak whenever someone passes by, and Olly rushes home that evening and begins to add signs of detection to the seal, then gives it guardrails by adding a square to represent the second tile and two long lines that intersect below the light sigil.

The new spellwork builds the tiles into the spell itself, so that as long as the tiles themselves are touching, it doesn't matter if the conjuring ink isn't.

When he presses the two tiles together and they light up for the first time in a week, Olly lets out a shout. He lets go and lets the tiles separate with the levitation spell, then does it again.

As satisfying as it is, he can feel Qifrey's absence more keenly than ever. As apprentices, Qifrey had been there for every block he'd ever encountered in his studies. If he were still in the Great Hall, Olly would have gone to him no matter what the hour and walked him through the process so he could watch the way Qifrey would study his contraption intently, turning the seal this way and that and asking questions about the different signs he'd chosen.

Despite Qifrey's silence over the last month, Olly finds himself writing to him one more time, though it's not as satisfying as being able to explain in person. Briefly, he considers mentioning Kalal, but he discards the thought quickly. And though he could release the letter here and let it reach the surface on its own, he takes the time to climb the stairs outside so he can release the fluttergram into the sky.

He stares into the horizon long after the small paper bird has disappeared.

—

Olruggio returns to the stonemasons in Kalhn, bringing with him a sketch of the two-piece system he needs crafted and enough money to hopefully make up for the rush order.

He hands the approval application to his boss directly, checking off the box that asks if the spell is proprietary with selfish pride.

And though he wants to present them at Silver Eve, there's one thing he needs to do first.

Olly returns to the town by the vineyard and brings the glowstones to the mayor, explaining his intention. The woman gives him leave to install a small handful as a test when he promises her that the service will be free, sending him along with the town's local stonemason to pry up any broken cobblestones in need of replacement. They mark out each location, though of course Olly will need to return on his own to actually lay the contraptions without an Outsider hovering over his shoulder.

His posts up at a local inn, and his presence starts to generate enough attention that when the first stones are laid, the children come nigh-immediately to investigate why a witch is doing stonework.

Olruggio pauses what he's doing, turning around to watch them.

"I don't get it," someone says as they gather around a cluster of the first three glowstones Olly had laid. Olruggio smiles to himself; none of them have stepped on one yet. "They're just cobblestones, ain't they? They don't even match the rest!"

"I think it's prettier that way," a girl says.

"Maybe they do something?" Another boy says. Olruggio squints. He thinks it's the boy that had reminded him of Qifrey, but he can't be certain. "I mean, if a witch laid them."

The first boy pokes the stone as the others watch with baited breath, though of course it's not strong enough to trigger the spell. Olly's smile widens as they all make sounds of disappointment. It's only as they're leaving that someone crosses over them and the stone lights up.

The boy gasps in surprise, drawing the attention of the other children.

"What? What is it?!"

"Look!"

The effect is diminished in the sunlight, of course, but it's novel enough that the children all begin to attempt to step on them, leaving the stones permanently lit up as everyone tries to step on them simultaneously. Next, of course, is their attempt to understand how to stop it. One of the older girls puts her hands out and orders everyone to take a step back until they all move away. The stones separate, too minute to be seen, and the spell ends.

Olruggio's work takes him around the corner before the children are done, but he can still hear them as dusk begins to settle in. He sees them coming around the corner as the sunlight fades, jumping from stone to stone in an attempt to find the glowstones.

In total, it takes three days to lay the glowstones. And by the evening of day three, Olruggio's back is aching when he hears a woman's voice.

"Sir Witch! Olly!"

Olly turns and wipes the sweat from his brow, smiling when he sees Lalia. He rises from his bruised knees to stand. "Can I help ya?"

She shakes her head, offering him another sausage in a bun. Olly's mouth starts to water and his stomach growls as he realizes he hadn't eaten since breakfast.

"Thanks," he says, taking the food. It's still hot, likely fresh off the grill.

"I wanted to give you this in thanks. It's not much, but everyone's talking about these stones of yours. They're already making my trips home in the evening easier. So thanks."

And despite his bruised knees and his aching back, Olly smiles in satisfaction. "My thanks to you. I wouldn't have even thought about this sort of problem if ya hadn't told me."

Lalia beams at him. "You come back to my stall any time, you hear? I'll make sure you always get a good deal."

—

Once his first glowstones have achieved a rousing success, he encounters a new problem: how to present them at Silver Eve.

Though he's confident that people will love them once they see them in action, just as they had in town, the Silver Eve procession takes place during the day and he'll be too high up for people to see the floor he'll be standing on—and a contraption they can't see will never generate the people's enthusiasm.

He puzzles over it for nearly a week before deciding he needs to get out of the Great Hall. Perhaps changing up his surroundings will bring him that spark of inspiration.

Feeling nostalgic, he takes a Windowway to Kalhn and flies out to the Downs. He sees the shepherd's hut from a distance and feels that now-familiar ache in his chest, but he tries to ignore the feeling this time and continues in its direction.

If he looks closely, he can see those small signs of his and Qifrey's time out here: initials scraped into the brick of one of the walls that was left standing, the soot stains of a pyreball gone wrong that had never fully been scrubbed away.

Olly sits on the ground just outside and leans his back against one of the crumbling walls so he can gaze up at the stars.

The cold of the earth seeps into his bones, even through his cloak and his skirt—winter will be here in just a few short weeks, and though there's no snow on the ground, he can tell that the nights are beginning to dip into freezing. Olly ignores all of that for now, though.

Qifrey had never responded to his letter explaining the glowstones. It still stings, but when he thinks about Qifrey gazing up at the same night sky right now, it eases some of the anger twisting in his chest.

Qifrey had hated how dark the Great Hall could be, not just its damp, heavy air. Olly would be lying if he said he hadn't been thinking of Qifrey at all when he'd designed the glowstones, even if the initial spark of inspiration had come from Lalia.

If the glowstones need the night to truly shine, then Olruggio just has to bring the night to the procession—or his float, at least.

—

Olly designs a seal to reduce incoming light, which he draws onto the float itself.

He gives it an emanation radius that won't overlap with the floats on either side of him; then he draws the seals for two dozen glowstones and adds a second levitation seal with a guidance sigil and signs of immobility. As the eldroxen pull his float along, the stones should follow suit, held within the orbit of the float at fixed points.

On the day of the procession, he runs the glowstones around the rim of the float and up and down like stairs, testing each one. They bob slightly under his weight, but otherwise the spell keeps them in place.

With all the pageantry of his float, he manages to draw a crowd of his fellow witches before the procession has even begun. They gather around asking him question after question until the first participants are called away to the front and everyone abruptly remembers that they're meant to be preparing for their own presentations.

Olly snorts as the last witch runs off, and he jogs up the steps one last time to make sure they'll bear his weight before it's time for his float to emerge onto the street.

Immediately, Olly can see the way his float draws the attention of everyone on the street with its light filtration: his float appears to be surrounded by darkness—pretty ingenious of him, if he does say so himself. He waits at the top of the float, lit from below by the glowstones he'd laid on top. From the ground, as he'd predicted, it's more difficult to tell what the contraption itself is. He holds his cap to his chest, waiting with his head bowed until his float is further into the crowd.

With eyes on him from all sides, Olly lifts his head and gives a flourish of his robes before he takes his first steps down the side of the float. He has to hold his skirt high enough that the stones are visible, but he's been practicing for the last two days, and it pays off now. He can hear the crowd gasping in surprise as he dances lightly from one step to the next.

His spell extends far enough out that on the ground, he can see as a few children attempt to jump on the cobblestones of the street itself within the dark of his float, only to groan in disappointment when their own steps don't light up like his. Olly laughs, jumping from his platform to offer a hand to some of them. The procession is slow enough that he can let them stand on the glowstones closer to the ground before returning them to their parents as they shriek with joy.

Around him, flags lift into the air as they watch his demonstration.

Olruggio makes it through nearly half the procession before he begins to tire. As successful as his demonstration is, it relies upon him running in circles up and down around his float. He has no idea how he's going to last the rest of the way, and he's contemplating his mortality when he sees it: a flash of black ribbon dancing in the air above the crowd.

"Qifrey?"

Olly nearly misses the next step and grips the side of the float as he follows the line of that black ribbon back to a smoke grey cap, and then Olruggio sees him for the first time in half a year.

Qifrey stands near the front of the crowd, and Olly can see the fond smile Qifrey wears as he watches him. A moment later, he raises his flag into the air.

"Qifrey!"

Olruggio leaps from his float, pressing his heels together briefly to break his landing as he hits the ground.

"Sir Witch!" someone calls out, snagging Olly's sleeve before he can reach Qifrey. Somebody else steps in between them, and a crowd begins to form, quickly obscuring Qifrey from his view. "How much are you selling your lightstones for?"

"I—sorry, I have to talk to my—"

"Could they be installed within a dance hall?"

"Well—sure, but really, I gotta—" He tries to step around the small crowd he's amassed, but Qifrey's no longer there. Olly twists frantically in place, searching, but there's no sign of him; no grey cap and no black ribbon in sight.

"Qifrey!" he yells, louder now. There's no way Qifrey hadn't seen him approaching, which means that…that…

That Qifrey is avoiding him intentionally.

Olruggio presses his feet together and jumps into the air again, looking left and right, but still he's unable to spot him. Olly swallows, his brow furrowed.

"Sir Witch!" someone calls again, from below him this time. Olly looks down at the crowd of Outsiders, trying not to let the frustration show on his face, as the person points back in the direction of his float. His eldroxen have continued on, and the two witches following him in the procession have already passed. "Don't you need to catch up with your float?"

Olruggio hovers there for several more seconds that pass him by too fast, continuing to search for Qifrey, but he's nowhere to be found. Finally, Olly has to accept the reality that Qifrey didn't want to see him.

Then why come at all? He had to know that I would see him.

Olruggio flies back to his float, but his heart isn't in it now. When the procession ends, he realizes he can hardly recall a thing from the second half.

Even learning that the king wants to buy his glowstones does little for the hollow feeling expanding in his chest. As soon as the king turns his attention to the next witch, Olly slips away.

He can practically hear his master's voice in his head reminding him of the importance of networking if he wants a successful career as a contraptionist, but Olly just can't bring himself to care anymore.

Qifrey doesn't want anything to do with him anymore, and Olly…Olly will have to find a way to live with that.

He finds a vendor selling alcohol outside the castle, and he buys the strongest spirits they sell, but he can't stay here.

Olruggio finds the nearest Windowway that can return him to his atelier in the Great Hall, and he hides from the rest of the world.

Winter.

Qifrey's letters have well and truly stopped, now. It's been three months since Olruggio last heard from him.

Olly quits his job. With the amount of money he starts to make from the commissions on his glowstones, he won't have to worry about it for at least a year.

Even now, knowing that Qifrey wants nothing to do with him anymore, Olly can't help but put some of it aside for their old dream of fixing up the shepherd's hut in the Naakiwan Downs.

Maybe…maybe come spring, he can start work on fixing the place up. After everything Qifrey's suffered in life, he deserves to have a home under the stars that he can always return to. If Olruggio can give him that, perhaps that can be some small first step in letting Qifrey go. If Olruggio can't be by his side, at least a piece of Olly will always be there to shelter him when he needs it most.

Right?

—

He remembers, distantly, the dark winters in the north. The days which might not ever see any sun at all.

His mother had often struggled with getting out of bed during those winters. He remembers light spells made by his father in quiet efforts to coax a smile out of her. How he'd take on the cooking and cleaning when she couldn't.

—

Some days, he can barely drag himself out of bed, too.

Olruggio has no one to take on the cooking and cleaning for him, though; he develops a collection of empty bottles at his bedside.

His only saving grace is those glowstones, the one thing that can reliably draw him out of bed as he takes commissions from the king and the other nobles.

His nightmares return in full force, until he can barely sleep even when he spends all day in bed. Noz, mostly.

But sometimes, Qifrey's there, too. He stands in the middle of a snow storm, poorly dressed for a brutal Ghodrey winter, and no matter how loudly Olruggio cries out, Qifrey won't come closer to Olly; and no matter how hard Olly runs, he can't ever get any closer to Qifrey.

Spring.

The seasons mean little in the Great Hall. He understands now better than ever Qifrey's hatred of its perpetual gloom. Above the sea, the peninsula emerges slowly from the dead of winter, but the witches and their world forever stay the same.

After two weeks holed up in his atelier without speaking to another person, it takes everything Olruggio has to force himself down to the Windowway Parlor.

He travels to Kalhn so he can make the flight to the Naakiwan Downs. And though he tells himself he needs this closure so he can give Qifrey the distance he needs, somewhere deep down some traitorous part of him continues to cling to hope that maybe if he starts coming here often enough, he'll catch Qifrey somewhere that has no where else for him to hide so he can force the truth from his lips.

Though the snow has melted, winter still hasn't fully relinquished her grasp on the land, especially in the air after the sun sets. Olruggio ends up landing about a mile away from the shepherd's hut and makes the rest of the way on foot.

He's not sure what he expects when he crests the final hill that overlooks the hut—perhaps to see that it, too, has collapsed under the weight of loneliness during the winter—but Olruggio slows to a stop as he gazes down at its unchanged facade. Of course it hasn't.

Olruggio laughs quietly to himself at his own dramatics. Time may chip away at her, stealing bits and pieces of the hut with every passing year, but she's resilient; those missing parts can't change what she is at her heart.

He makes his way down the hill and slips inside. The walls block the worst of the wind, and he imagines with a fire in the hearth he could warm this place right up.

Over the years, he and Qifrey have explored every inch of this shepherd's hut. He goes to the cellar first, where he finds some long-forgotten bottle of illicit wine, something pilfered and hidden away when they were boys, and uses some creative spell work to break the seal.

He climbs the staircase back up to the living room as he begins to drink from the bottle directly, setting it aside only long enough to draw a decently sized pyreball spell in the hearth, something that'll keep burning for several clock marks.

The ceiling is partially caved in. He can see the stars between the rafters when he looks up, and after a few minutes, the smoke of the fire rises up to join the stars in the sky, too.

We'd have to check the integrity of the framing, he thinks. That'd be first, and once they'd fixed what needed fixing and made sure it wouldn't come down on their heads, they could start on the roof.

Heavens, he must be a masochist with the way he can't let it go even now as he's rubbing salt in the wound. He pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes for a minute. He's walking himself through several deep breaths when he hears the scrape of the kitchen door.

Olly turns to look in its direction He knows he heard something, but it might not have been the front door itself—an animal he's unknowingly disturbed from its shelter, perhaps. Everything is quiet for a moment and then—footsteps. Quiet but steady as whoever it is ascends the lower set of stairs that lead into the kitchen. Another pause, and then he hears them on the stairs that lead directly to the living room. Directly to him.

Olly finds himself holding his breath, gaze unwavering as a familiar black ribbon crowning a smoke grey cap appears, and then—

—

Olruggio wakes on the cold floor of the living room.

“The hell?" he mutters to himself, rubbing the back of his neck. Olruggio would recognize his and Qifrey’s shepherd's hut anywhere, and yes, he recalls now that he'd come out here earlier and…found that bottle of wine? But it's dark out now, and Olruggio can't believe he drank enough to knock himself out for several hours.

"Ah, you're awake," a devastatingly familiar voice says.

Olruggio bolts upright and turns to face the stairs that lead down into the kitchen, where Qifrey stands.

"How—what—" Olruggio stammers.

Qifrey chuckles and mounts the top step. He's holding a dented tin cup between both hands, and Olruggio stares at the steam that rises from its contents so he doesn't have to look directly at Qifrey.

"Oh my," Qifrey says lightly. “I knew you were drunk, but I didn't think it was that much. Here, I went out and found some tranquileaf while you rested. I had a feeling you might need it when you woke up.”

Olruggio stares at Qifrey blankly. He can't believe he was so drunk that he—what, completely forgot that Qifrey was here?

Had they spoken? They must have. Olruggio just hopes he didn't do or say anything too embarrassing.

“What—what are you doing here?” Olly asks.

Olruggio can feel more than see as Qifrey hesitates for a moment before he steps closer and sits down across from Olly. He sets the cup of tea between them.

Olly picks it up and downs half of it in one go, even though it's much too hot and burns his tongue and the roof of his mouth. “Thanks,” he mutters, feeling some of the tension at the back of his neck ease. Qifrey'd been right about the headache, of course.

Qifrey nods. "You're welcome," he says softly. He falls quiet, but Olruggio knows Qifrey well enough by now that he knows Qifrey is only searching for the right words to answer his question, not ignoring him.

He studies Qifrey while he waits for him to speak. Though Olly had caught that fleeting glimpse of Qifrey during Silver Eve, he hadn't had the chance to take him in until he'd drunk his fill.

He looks…good. Traveling alone has suited Qifrey, it seems. His shoulders are broader, the tight sleeves of his undershirt showing off the quiet strength of his arms.

Olruggio swallows and tries not to feel self-conscious about his own appearance. He knows what a mess he must look like: dark circles from too little sleep, too skinny from skipped meals, and the unkempt beginning of a beard…

Drinking so much he'd apparently blacked out. Just more proof that Olruggio has always needed Qifrey more than Qifrey needs him.

"I was passing through the area and saw the smoke of your pyreball," Qifrey says finally. Olruggio gets the sense that this answer isn't the one Qifrey had wanted to offer, but Qifrey doesn't correct himself. "From a distance I was worried the hut had somehow caught fire."

"Just me," Olruggio says lamely.

"Just you," Qifrey agrees.

They lapse into silence.

He's wearing glasses now, too; that's new. A bit odd, but they seem to strangely suit him.

"What were ya doin' in the area?" Olly asks with a wave of déjà vu.

"Well, I…I was heading to Kalhn to take the Windowway back to the Great Hall."

Olly's eyes widen. "What? Y'were?"

Qifrey nods. He wears a faint, sad smile. "I missed you."

I missed you. Three simple words that still manage to knock the breath from Olly's lungs.

"I missed you, too," Olly says weakly. "Obviously."

Qifrey's eye crinkles around the edges as his smile becomes more earnest. "Obviously," he repeats. He exhales quietly and seems to reset himself and his careful distance. "I heard you quit your job."

Olruggio wonders who he heard that from. Was Qifrey still in communication with Beldaruit? Alaira?

He can't let himself fall down that rabbit hole. "Yeah. I hated it, and after the success of my glowstones, I had more than enough commissions to tide me over without it."

He glances at Qifrey out of the corner of his eye, curious how he'll react to the news, but Qifrey only smiles, small but genuine. "I'm happy for you."

Olruggio falls backward to lay on the floor and stare up at the partial ceiling; something to look at that isn't Qifrey. They're both quiet.

Eventually, Olly hears a soft rustling, and then a moment later he can feel a body lay down carefully beside him. Like this, Qifrey is close enough to touch, but Olly knows better now.

"If you don't have any new plans…" Qifrey begins at length. "I was hoping you might still want to help me turn this place into a proper atelier."

Olly turns his head to look at Qifrey; Qifrey's gaze stays fixed overhead so he doesn't have to meet Olruggio's eye.

"Y'mean…you're stayin'?"

Qifrey gives a clipped nod before his steady gaze finally turns back to Olly. "I think I'm done traveling, so I'll stay as long as you'll have me."

"That could be a good long while," Olruggio warns him, breaking into a grin.

"I can live with that," Qifrey agrees.

And Olruggio tries to temper his heart, that traitorous thing, but he's never been very good at self-control when it comes to Qifrey. His chest swells until it feels like it will burst, and Olruggio forces himself to look away before he does something stupid and scares Qifrey away for good this time.

"And," Qifrey continues when Olly doesn't reply immediately, "though I know you'll say it's unnecessary, I wanted to apologize, as well. For a great many things. Disappearing on you during Silver Eve. Not writing you back." For leaving, he seems to say without saying; or perhaps that's Olly's wishful thinking.

"I guess I just wanna know…whatever y'were lookin' for… did ya find it?"

"Yes," Qifrey says after a moment. "But I suppose that was the problem in the end."

Another one of Qifrey's cryptic answers. But Olly's long since learned that to press for more information is the fastest way to make Qifrey shut down.

"Well." Olruggio rolls onto his side and props his head up with one elbow. "It's good to have you back."

He hears Qifrey's quiet inhale and worries, for a moment, that he's crossed one of Qifrey's ever-shifting boundaries. Qifrey rolls onto his side and mirrors Olruggio's pose before he can spiral.

"Olly," Qifrey starts. Stops. Olruggio sees it, that crack in his armor, the vulnerability in his face. For the briefest moment, Olruggio thinks Qifrey will press it, weight on a newly-formed bruise. Time feels suspended between them as Olly feels his chest expand.

"Yeah?" he whispers.

But the moment passes, as moments often do, and that distant, placid expression returns to Qifrey's face. Something wary lurks beneath it; wary and unbearably sad.

There was a time not so long ago when Qifrey told him everything. When did that change, and why had it taken so long for Olruggio to notice? Is that why he'd left?

But if this is Qifrey offering him an olive branch and a second chance, then Olruggio swears to himself he won't mess it up this time. He swallows down the dangerous words that are sitting in his chest. Words like do you feel it, too? Does coming back to me feel like coming home?

Some questions, Olly's learned, it's better not to ask.

Qifrey shakes his head of his own distant thoughts.

"It's good to be back."