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In hindsight, his idea to forgo lessons for the day had been a good one.
The morning had been heavy with snow showers that persisted throughout the day, and while the shepherd home-turned-atelier had been fixed up properly when it had come into his and Olruggio’s care, the howling wind outside still managed to leave the residents languid and cold. The girls had been so focused on their studies the week prior, so why not take advantage of the situation and relax a little? Young minds learn best when they are allowed time to rest, after all.
And so Qifrey had let his students sleep in and greeted them with a late breakfast and a cluster of cushy pallets in the main room. They spent the day as they willed, playing games and telling stories and delighting in small magics purely for amusement. Magic aside, congregating in the most central room in the atelier would do much to preserve heat and attain a nice, cozy atmosphere. Tetia and Richeh had even dragged Olruggio out like the world’s most bewildered and tired badger from its den; performatively cranky, but nonetheless thankful for the excuse to take a break.
After a dinner of hearty stew and warm bread, the lot of them returned to the main room to wind down the evening with mugs of tea in hand.
While Qifrey has taken his book back up, the girls are all stretched out on their pallets of blankets and pillows, strewn about the atelier’s living room from their play earlier in the day. Agott has her back against the couch, quietly scribbling away some notes while the others giggle in front of her, playing some sort of game with the brushbug. Their books and half-empty mugs of tea had been pushed aside and forgotten to make room for whatever made-up game consumes them.
It’s a perfect evening, a peaceful evening, and so incredibly domestic that some would call it dull, but Qifrey couldn’t be happier. The fireplace crackling merrily in the hearth and the girl’s soft laughter makes a warm and cheerful contrast to the bitterness outside.
To his dismay, an all-too familiar discomfort begins to bubble up beneath Qifrey’s skin, a cold whisper of fear. Quietly, he sets his book aside and pulls away to slip out a side door and out beyond the garden.
The winds and billowing of snow from earlier have all subsided, leaving the world starkly quiet and bare. Crisp air fills his lungs, sharp and making him gasp puffs of white. It clears his head, pulls him away just enough.
The quiet outside is as beautiful as it is imposing. Like this, the world is muffled by a blanket of white. Not dead or lifeless, just buried and resting. It waits for the warmth of the sun to burst into life and fill the springtide with flowers and the joys of life.
Qifrey’s footsteps are mouse-quiet against the snow, marring the smooth, unblemished surface with the imprints of his boots. He settles himself onto a rock and looks out over the vastness before him, above and below. The moon is a pale crescent in the sky and its light glitters cold and beautiful across the hills of snow, accentuating the dips and valleys of the Downs. The nighttime is brighter for it, and he can stare out across the silver hills that mimic and reflect the freckles of stars splayed out across the sky. It’s a sight he never could have witnessed back at the Great Hall, and a scene he will be forever grateful to witness. No matter how the seasons turn among the earth below, the stars look on everlasting, unreachable, but nevertheless bright.
He cannot thank Olruggio enough for showing him this place. Even if he had wandered the world as he had considered back then after his attempt on the Tower of Books, who knows how long it would have been to find a place such as this? And, even if he had, would he have been in the right mind to appreciate such a sight, or would he have been so single-mindedly consumed on chasing down the Brimhats to appreciate it for what it was?
By staying here he is able to best experience the simple joys of this world, yet cannot fully embrace them with open arms. It’s an unbearably cruel jest that his legs must always be unsteady as if on a ship upon a roaring sea, tossed about by the waves, waiting for the next that may topple him over. His body is so tense, constantly on edge in fear of letting go too much and causing pain to those he holds dear. For Coco and her quest to restore her mother. Afraid of when, inevitably, Olruggio sees through him once again and starts asking questions that leads to another turn of this heartbreaking cycle. Yet despite his own anguish, he holds true to the promise he had made to his dear friend all those years ago, submerging himself deeper and deeper into the mire of lies made in friendship.
I’m so tired.
It’s a thought he desperately tries to prevent, but it remains true. He cannot remember the last time he’d had truly restful sleep. It’s a whispering call in his ear that he can’t answer.
“It’s too cold out to leave your cloak.”
Qifrey turns to greet Olruggio, but squawks when he’s met with a faceful of fabric. It’s his blanket from the couch, thick and still warm from hours by the fire, and a snugstone for good measure. It’s only then that he realizes just how truly cold he is. He can’t recall how long he’s been out here, so lost in the winding twists and turns of his thoughts.
Olruggio slumps down onto the rocks beside him with a groan, two mugs in one hand.
“I just wanted to see the stars.” Qifrey mutters.
He winds the blanket around himself and holds one side open for his friend. Olruggio grunts as he scoots closer into the blanket wrap, mumbling something about teachers not taking care of themselves. Qifrey fights back a laugh - Olruggio is the last person who should lecture about self care, but he holds his tongue.
“Can’t blame you for that, but you’ll never hear the end of it if you get sick.” Olruggio continues imperiously. “Here, drink this.”
One of the hot mugs is passed into Qifrey’s chilled hands, and the discrepancy in temperature prickles his fingertips. There’s a stiffness in his hands as he curls them around the welcome warmth of the ceramic. The steam wafts over his face with traces of citrus, spices, and the unmistakable bite of alcohol.
“A toddy?”
“It’ll warm ya right up!” Olruggio says cheerfully, and taps their mugs together.
Qifrey chuckles and takes a sip. He can feel the path of its searing heat all the way down to his belly, warming him from the inside out. He sighs and takes another, and the stiff lines of his body melt beneath its influence.
The warmth is nice, in both drink and company. It’s a simple thing, quiet and unassuming, but Qifrey can’t help but lean in just a little closer, like an emerging springtime bud to sunlight. He’d thought he needed solitude, yet Olruggio’s unexpected presence is the true balm, despite its inherent risks. It seems Olruggio is always taking care of him.
“The stars’re bright tonight.” Olruggio comments idly.
“Mhm. Just like when you first showed me this place.”
“Yeah, time sure has flown.”
It feels as if it were only yesterday when Olruggio had proudly brought him to Naakiwan Downs and the ramshackle place that would one day become their home. The two of them have the years etched into their bodies, have matured and arguably grown wiser, yet the stars above remain the same.
“I can’t believe it, but the girls aren’t much younger than we were back then.”
It’s a sobering thought when put like that. Some days, Qifrey doesn’t feel as if he’s grown much from back then. Though he shamefully had taken on his students for selfish reasons, he had put some thought to what gis approach would be as an educator, but he couldn’t have ever imagined just how rewarding it is to watch them overcome their own obstacles and carve their own paths. In many ways he’d grown alongside them and continues to grow still, with them teaching him in turn.
“They certainly get up to mischief like we did.”
Well, thats one way of putting it.
Olruggio snorts.
“If they keep it up my hair’s gonna turn as white as yours.”
It’s meant in jest, but Qifrey can’t help but recoil privately and quickly steers the conversation in a more comfortable direction.
“They’ve been working very hard lately. And with it being a dreary day I decided it wasn’t worth pushing them to try doing anything productive. I’m just surprised you let them drag you along.”
“Yeah, well.” Olruggio mutters, scratching the back of his neck. “You’re always telling them that you have to balance work with play, and we adults gotta set a good example.”
“Ha ha, I’m glad my lessons are so universal.”
Conversation between them had become one of the few easy things in Qifrey’s life - at least, after they had finally realized their friendship. It’s a familiarity that he values greatly, especially given the difficulties he’d had relating with his peers and seniors back at the Great Hall. But the casual silence between them is equally as comfortable, and after some idle chatter about this and that, they fall together into quietly appreciating the stars above them and the simple joys of sharing a drink with a friend.
Their shoulders knock together as they sit huddled together in silence, swathed in the blanket so close and cozy. Olruggio is as bright and all-encompassing as any of those stars, and just as impossible to ignore. His warmth radiates out like a beacon, pulling Qifrey closer and closer. Their hands brush and neither pull away, instead allowing them to linger in the other’s orbit. It’s all Qifrey can allow. In truth he wants nothing more than to melt from it, but instead remains frozen, watching from afar just as he does with that cascade of stars in the sky. He can’t bear the heartbreak and shame of leading Olruggio on.
After some time Olruggio shifts, inhaling deeply on a yawn.
“‘Gonna call it a night. Don’t stay too long out here, alright? You’re not built for the cold.”
Olruggio pats his shoulder as he leaves, and if the touch lingers a tad longer than it should neither of them gives voice to it. It’s a subtle thing, a glance that could mean little or invite more. A touch that Qifrey has spent years hardening his heart against over and over. He merely makes an acquiescing noise as he burrows further into the blanket, snugstone held close to his chest.
He stays out on that rock for quite some time longer, but even the chill of the evening cannot banish the warmth of that simple touch.
-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-
The atelier is quiet when he returns; the laughter from before has died down, and he’s careful as he pads back to the main room, unwilling to disturb the girls.
They’ve rolled themselves up in their blankets like little chrysalises in front of the fireplace, for the most part; even Agott, whose workbook and papers are set neatly aside. He does however pick through the heap of slumbering bodies to gently tuck the corners of Tetia’s blanket around her exposed feet; she’s kicked them out in a sprawl, half under the blankets. Her pink curls are tossed close enough to tickle Richeh’s nose, but the Richeh doesn’t seem bothered in the least judging by the even cadence of her soft snores. Near her, even the little brushbug is sound asleep, curled up in the crook of Coco’s neck.
He gathers up all of the empty mugs as he goes, tiptoeing to the kitchen to deposit them neatly into the sink - a task to be dealt with tomorrow, he thinks.
He has half a mind to return to the comfort of his bed - Olly will surely complain about his own back after a night on the couch - but the orange glow of the fire and the cozy mess of his little family is too inviting to resist. And so he carefully folds himself up onto the couch beside Olruggio and spreads his blanket across them both. It’s far more comfortable than it has any right to be, despite the age of the couch, and it’s that comfort that fills him with unease. The frustration of it all could bring him to tears, if he weren’t so exhausted.
“I’m so sorry, my friend. One day…”
One day, it won’t be like this. One day, he’ll be able to return the love and kindness of Olruggio and their girls genuinely and openly. But until then…
Against his better judgement, Qifrey leans in and allows himself to brush a featherlight kiss against Olruggio’s head before retreating back into himself, bitterness building in his throat.
One day he will have peace - true peace - but he must first rip it from the cruel hands of fate and the Brimhats. Qifrey doesn’t dream of glory or power, but the simple pleasure of being able to be fully present and reciprocative with those he cherishes. To enjoy this domestic life with Olruggio, the home and life they had built with their own hands and watch with pride as these amazing girls grow into themselves and become capable witches in their own right. And it is precisely because of that humble wish that he has to keep striding down this path, to finally grasp that future he’s longed for, so close and yet just out of arm’s reach.
One day his love won’t be fettered by grief.