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It cannot be said that Qifrey the witch lives a particularly boring or even safe life, especially with all of the recent stress and chaos of the silvereve festival with the wyrm, and the knights moralis, and the brimhats. But by the accursed brims themselves, by the pointed caps and the wise, by the silverwood, the source of both his magic and anguish, this day is rapidly steering towards a very hellish week, one that Qifrey really doesn’t need right now.
Qifrey is in heat, he is not supposed to be in heat, but he is, and all he wants is for Olruggio to come and hold him, scent him, make it better. But Olruggio has not helped Qifrey while he was in heat since they were teenagers. Since his comfort made the tree within him burst, and left Qifrey caged within branches and roots, still shaking with heat and desire, pain slotting as usual right alongside the two. The very thing that helped to bring him relief and comfort had ended up causing even more harm.
It was one of the first times that Qifery had to wipe Olruggio’s memories, or, more accurately, Olruggio had to wipe his own memories. Qifery was too heatsick, and far too rooted to the ground at that point to do it. He can remember stumbling to give Olly some kind of explanation through the branches and heat and pain. He can remember how Olly pressed against his branches and brambles, how he tore his clothes and skin alike in any attempt to soothe or comfort or help Qifrey.
It was utter hell back then, and Qifery absolutely refuses to go through it again, to put Olruggio through it again. Even if it means that Olruggio is to never be made aware of his heats again, that Olly is hardly able to remember that Qifrey is an omega at all. Qifery still wants to live with Olruggio, despite it all, and Olruggio has made it abundantly clear, every single time that he has found out about the silverwood and Qifrey’s condition/curse, that he does not want Qifrey to die. That he will do everything in his power, even erase his own memories, to keep Qifrey at his side.
So everything that could possibly tempt Olruggio or his warmth, his comfort, his light to Qifrey was suppressed. The scent that Olly described as ‘mouthwatering’ when the two of them had first presented together was hidden under complicated clothing and carefully stitched scent blocking spells. Made with silverwood ink soaked thread of course.
Qifrey wondered sometimes, if his blood might serve as a conjuring ink substitute, if he ever found himself in a situation desperate enough to try it. He also wondered sometimes, how such use might be taken by the wise and the knights moralis, how it might fit into the forbiddenness of magic used on a body. Qifrey was essentially a walking amalgamation of forbidden magic after all.
It didn’t matter, he was not desperate enough, had never been desperate enough to try it, and these are not the things he should be concerned with anyway right now. He needs to make sure that the spells within his room are intact to muffle any sounds that might slip out when he ends up delirious. There has never been a heat where Qifrey hasn’t wound up delirious, and he is far less worried about overheard moans from the few moments of pleasure he might be able to snatch back from his heat, than he is about accidentally crying or screaming out in pain. That would draw the concerned attention of Olly far far faster than if Olruggio just thought Qifrey was having himself ‘alone time’. Olly would get flustered and fussy about it, that’s for certain, but he’d also leave Qifrey alone if he thought that he was just ‘letting out pent up stress’.
It brings the slightest smile to Qifrey’s face to think that Olruggio gets so fussy about overhearing such things because he gets upset that he’s not there with Qifrey in his room, sharing in the ‘stress relief’. And Qifrey will take any modicum of joy or comfort, or even humor that such thoughts bring him with the pain making its way through his cramping body.
He needs to make sure that the atelier is safe and stocked for the week, that the girls will have meals prepared and something of some kind to keep them busy for a week without their teacher’s direct instruction or oversight. Oh he knows that Olly wouldn’t really mind tending them for the week, but that is not Olruggio’s job. It is his, and Qifrey already knows how much he imposes upon his dear friend. His dear Olly who is already so worn thin with commissions and projects and Qifrey. He’ll need to make sure that there are meals prepared for Olly too, knowing how his dearest friend –warmth star mate –no– could, and would, get so caught up in his work he’d forget to care for himself. Neglecting to eat or bathe until Qifrey made his way into his side of the atelier and to bully his best friend into taking a break.
Qifrey needs to make sure that everything will be alright with him out of commission for so long. He needs to make sure that the brimhats won’t be able to take advantage of his absence. He also needs to make it believable that he will have simply gotten sick for a week, that he will have all the supplies necessary for both himself and all those within his atelier. He needs to do so very many things, and he can already feel the exhaustion pulling at him. He needs Olruggio
‘So!’ Qifrey thinks to himself, clapping his hands together to draw his attention back to the matters at hand. He needs to double then triple check all of the protection spells around the atelier, and then all of the privacy and diminishing spells in and around his room. He also needs to check that something hasn’t happened to the suppressants he does still have left from his last batch and start the process for brewing more. If something has gone wrong with one dose or bottle of them then there might be something wrong with all of them, or the ingredients he had used for them. He does not want to entertain the thought, Qifrey cannot afford to entertain the thought right now, that maybe his suppressants had stopped working. That he had somehow grown adjusted to them as some do when medication has been taken too frequently for too long. But it’s not like he’s had any other choice though!
Thoughts for later, Qifrey can ruminate over all the ways his hands have been forced due to the silverwood curse later. And later, not now, no time for it now, Qifrey will have to replace all his ingredients, and scrub all his brewing equipment too, for the sake of safety. Maybe the kitchen too, surely there is nothing wrong with a good deep clean of a witch’s workspace afterall! And it will be a good opportunity to teach the girls new spell applications and such!
It’s as Qifrey is making his way to the kitchen to make himself a whirlwind of meal and study preparation that he realizes he’s getting fussy and flighty, nesting his mind supplies. That he’s trying to ensure the little pack he had claimed for himself in the deep recesses of his mind and heart will be alright. Qifrey is trying to prove that he can take care of them, and the realization of that really shouldn’t shock him as much as it does. But he has spent so very many years pushing against all the instincts and wants of his mind and body that even he himself forgets all the ways that he is supposed to be an omega in the first place far too often. That he has tied himself up in so many layers of scent and cycle suppressing spells, that he has only barest hints left of a connection to his instincts.
Of course he had to be forcibly reminded of all those shortcomings born of his own actions and nature by some unforeseen mishap with his suppressants. As if the wriggling, nagging instincts at the back of his head that reared up near his girls and Olly weren’t enough on a regular day. He doesn’t even know what could have possibly gone wrong with the suppressants he uses to keep his heats in check. Qifrey had brewed them himself. By the brims!, Qifrey had made the recipe for said suppressants himself once it became clear that the standard ones offered reacted poorly with his condition, for one reason or another.
It’s not even as if the blend he uses is particularly potent. He still bleeds and aches come the new moon, and very much still fevers come the changing seasons. Qifrey has lived a life of pain, there is hardly a reason to try and suppress those aspects of his life, and subsequently his heats, at this point. Especially when they help keep to the silverwood in check. He can steal more lingering touches with Olly, more warmth filled hugs from his dear apprentices, more playful cuddles with the atelier’s mischievous puffball of a brushbuddy when his belly cramps with the moon and his head splits with the rain, and Qifrey will always be thankful to any circumstance that lets him steal the warmth of his star, no matter how physically discomforting or painful. No, Qifrey needs to be able to hide that his heats are happening, not prevent them from happening entirely. Olruggio will fuss far too much, if he was aware of Qifrey’s cycles, and Qifrey cannot afford the care that comes with a fussy Olruggio.
No, the issue has never been with Qifrey’s heats themselves, though he can admit to gladly doing without the excess slick and discharge (and the subsequent changing of clothes in excess) as well as the sudden spikes of sharp arousal, though again, those only ever really occurred when Olruggio was around. The issue is with Olruggio’s reaction to them, with Qifrey’s subsequent counter reaction to Olly’s. With the push and pull of the two of them, their scents, actions, and emotions.
Qifrey, mind, body, and soul is attuned to Olruggio, has been bound to him since he pulled him back from the ocean where he nearly drowned. Has been in lockstep with his star since they were apprentices themselves, learning magic at the feet and hands of their own masters, little more than pups. So of course, he knows, that if he goes to Olly now, and asks to be held by him, for Olruggio to scent him, and help him with everything that will occur during the coming week, that his dearest Olly would shuffle him into his room and insist with a kiss pressed to his aching temple that he ‘would take care of everything, just go rest Qifrey, you need it.’
Qifrey imagines that Olruggio would make quite the sight, rushing about the ateliers to gather nesting materials and meals, and to make sure the girls were all taken care of, of course, and then he’d come back to Qifrey’s side, and hold him and scent him until he was dizzy with comfort and sleepiness. There is no place that Qifrey has ever felt safer, then within his dear Olly’s arms.
But that’s the heart of the issue right there, isn’t it, Qifrey can’t feel safe, or loved, or comforted, not without setting off the silverwood. They are not teenagers, not anymore, and there is no way for Olruggio to help Qifrey with the few heats he has without causing harm to the both of them. This is not those northern woods, and there will be no repeats of the incident that occurred there. No matter how much Qifrey sometimes wished that there could be.
That was the only time that Qifrey can ever remember actually getting to be with Olly, after all. When the two of them were travelling the northern forest together in the late spring. They were supposed to be going from town to town doing maintenance on the roads and travel spells used within them, but of course the two of them got distracted when they were told about a meteor shower that was scheduled to happen by one of the local apothecaries from a small town they had passed.
So of course the two of them found a spot to watch the stars within a forest clearing. Cuddled up together under a thick blanket because it was still spring, and they were still up north, and staring at the sky together. If they both caught the other looking at each other over the falling stars, neither of them thought it worth truly making any kind of fuss over.
They both knew how much they meant to each other, how Qifrey dragged Olly from the shadow of his comfort zone and anxious mind, his tendency to overwork himself to the bone, how Olruggio chose Qifrey again and again and again, when he could have the company of any witch he so chose. They both knew that there was more than just friendship held safe between them, though only Qifrey knew why it hadn’t been acted on. Only Qifrey could remember all the times it had been.
In the end, neither Olruggio or Qifrey could tell who set off who, though Qifrey thinks it might have been Olruggio with the way he kept subtly grabbing at Qifrey in order to nudge him close enough to scent and hold, under the guise of being cold of course. Qifrey can’t remember feeling cold though, only the warmth of being close with Olruggio, of watching the stars streak across the sky together, and he ran much colder than Olly in the day to day, to the point Olly worried far too often Qifrey might be sick with some kind of underlying condition that kept his hands constantly freezing.
It didn’t matter much in the end though, somehow both of their first actual mating cycles had been kickstarted. They had known what their dynamics were for many years at that point, most pups start to present scent wise, and moon blood wise for the omegas, in their early teens, after all. While true mating cycles actually intended to act as such didn’t begin to occur until the late teens and early twenties. The two of them had been seventeen, and both their masters had fretted over the two of them travelling alone together for such a large part of their journey, but both their masters were needed elsewhere, and the roads had still needed maintenance desperately so off the two of them went.
Qifrey can remember those few days with crystalline clarity, he has made sure that he will continue to remember everything that happened back then, how Olruggio held him, and kissed him, and laid him down on their shared blanket spread out on the forest floor, and tore him apart and put him back together all at once. Qifrey can remember the fear he felt, once he realized what was happening, the anxiety that the silverwood tree would sprout, that this would be the time that Olly would hate him for it, the physical pain he felt as it wrenched its branches around under his skin without breaking it. He can remember how uncomfortable it was to be taken laid out on the forest floor, where they had so little protection.
Qifrey can remember how Olly had been far more lost within his instincts and mind than Qifrey himself was, how his dearest friend kept babbling about not being good enough if Qifrey was wanting to go away to travel alone, how he didn’t want Qifrey to go and leave him, how he’d fix whatever it was that was bothering Qifrey so he wouldn’t ever feel the need to go away, how he was sorry if he’d done something to upset Qifrey but that he couldn’t stand for his omega, anchor, friend, mate, soul to go. Qifrey can remember being taken aback by the words that Olly hadn’t even realized he’d been speaking from atop him, nose buried in his neck and tears soaking into the fabric of his turtleneck that Olly hadn’t bothered with fussing around trying to get off of him for more than a few minutes. It had seemed to Qifrey that Olruggio had wanted Qifrey more than he had wanted Qifrey to be fully naked for it.
It was all that Qifrey could do to pull Olruggio closer to him and try and calm him through soft touches and comforting scents, nuzzled kisses pressed to his face and hair. Qifrey couldn’t even speak through the tears that sprang to his eye at the stumbled words, the care and confession contained within them. The wood that seized his heart and lungs ensured that his mouth could not open enough to tell his dearest star that he wasn’t going anywhere, that he would stay right here and hurt the both of them through it.
The pain of the silverwood beneath his skin and the crushing anxiety of all the emotional turmoil his dearest had revealed to him is the only reason that he didn’t turn into a tree back then, and Qifrey knows somehow, that if their encounter hadn’t happened on the exposed forest floor with rocks and roots digging into his back, and the nipping wind of a northern spring clinging to the final bits of cold before the heat of summer came to banish it, that he would have. That Olruggio wouldn’t still have his memories of those few days, scattered though they are.
Qifrey has debated with himself before, if it would be better for Olly to not remember their encounter within the forest at all. For him to not be weighed with all of the self imposed guilt he now carries for ‘forcing’ himself on Qifrey. Because it is another kind of torment entirely, to get to hold the other half of your soul, and then never being able to do so again. Olly doesn’t know, can’t know, the real reason that Qifrey won’t let him act as his mate in full afterall.
Olly doesn’t even know that he marked Qifrey, after all. He was far, far too out of it, Qifrey remembers. He’d had Qifrey on his back and had been trying to get at his neck to scent and kiss him, to press his lips into Qifrey’s skin until it was covered in the evidence of their shared passion and adoration, of the fact that Olruggio loved Qifrey with every fiber of his being.
Every inch of skin that Olly could access was covered in bruises and love bites, and it seemed to Qifrey that Olruggio carried a strong, if well hidden, possessive streak, for Qifrey in particular, at least. Qifrey remembers Olruggio becoming so very frustrated with the way his turtleneck kept interfering. Blocking his scent just slightly, and preventing Olly from getting at the source of it, Qifrey’s underworked and ridiculously sensitive scent glands, even though the man wouldn’t let Qifrey up for long enough to actually remove it, and the next thing he realized was that Olly was using his hips to pin his body down to the blanket covered forest floor, while his hands held the fabric of his turtleneck tight in his hands to pull it down around his throat. And then there was just teeth and the fleeting spark of pain that melted almost immediately to pleasure as the one sided bonding bite sunk in, Qifrey falling completely lax in the safety of Olly’s hold, surrounded by all the feelings of love and adoration now flooding him, as his star continued to lave his face and neck with kisses.
Qifrey couldn’t bond Olruggio back though, no matter how much he wanted to, and by the stars, he wanted to share in that bond with Olruggio so badly. But he already knew that Olly was going to outlive him, there was no way that their plan for keeping Qifrey from becoming a tree would last long enough for him and Olly to actually grow old together, for Olly to pass peacefully before him, and to add to the pain that he would already inevitably face when losing Qifrey with a broken mating bond would have just been cruel.
The fact that Qifrey had to bite into his own arm with enough force to scar in order to prevent himself from doing exactly that is carefully hidden under clothing and magically applied cream and powder typically used by those of high class for covering blemishes upon the face during important events. It was the same thing he used to cover the mating mark upon his neck, sunk deep into the skin of his scent gland. Olly already felt so guilty over the situation in its entirety, when he didn’t need to in the first place, and Qifrey refuses to cause any more harm to his secret mate, even in such a way.
So Olly doesn’t understand why Qifrey still binds himself to him in so many ways, but never the one that he has always felt thrumming beneath the surface. Olruggio knows that Qifrey feels the same as him, that he would be far happier, more content, if he would just let Olruggio hold him, and court him and make him his mate officially. Yet for some reason that he resolutely refuses to share with Olly, he won’t. He’ll stay close, didn’t go away to travel alone like he had been planning to after they’d officially passed the fourth test, after they spent those few days in the forest together, but he won’t let Olly actually be close to him, won’t share his burdens with him, and Olruggio doesn’t understand why. Why Qifrey insists on making his own life more painful and difficult, despite how much he knows it hurts Olly to see him doing so, to see him hurting himself, denying himself comfort.
And Qifrey apologizes every time that Olruggio brings it up, but always tells him that ‘that is the one aspect of my life in which I will never be able to stop hurting you, and for that I am deeply sorry, my dearest friend.’
Olruggio doesn’t understand Qifrey, he never fully has, but he knows him better than anyone else, and he loves him with his entire being, so no matter how many times his heart and mind scream that Qifrey is pulling away from him, he is going to stay. There is so much that remains unsaid between the two of them, but Olruggio is not leaving Qifrey, and Qifrey knows this fact like he knows his own bones.
Qifrey shouldn’t be reminiscing on memories that are going to do nothing but cause him hurt in his current condition, but Qifrey has taken the task of hurting oneself emotionally and turned it into an art of survival. Qifrey cannot bear to think of forgetting even the smallest detail of those three days spent beneath the stars. He cannot bear to think that he might one day forget his Olly’s face, that one day, one day soon, far too soon –why must his remaining eye fail him so?–, he won’t be able to see him, or his darling apprentices, or the magic he has dedicated his life to.
Curse it, curse his failing eye, his stolen one, curse the silverwood running him through, curse the brimhats who put it there, who stuffed him under soil to die. Curse the stars for denying him his. Qifrey wants to soak in the warmth of his star, he wants to be held and loved by his dearest again, to be wrapped up in the scent of the two of them safe within his nest.
Qifery doesn’t have a nest though because he tore apart the meager one he had half constructed in the great hall once he found out what the brimhats had done to him. Once he knew that the feeling of safety was actually the biggest threat to him, and to Olly. He hasn’t allowed himself to build another for himself since.
Qifery had thought, that maybe, just maybe, if he was stressed out enough from his instincts screaming that he needed a nest somewhere warm, soft, and safe, and that he didn’t have one, he needs to make one, then maybe it would be enough to keep that awful seed from sprouting. Maybe it would be enough to keep him unrooted and allow Olly to keep his memories. Maybe if he denied his instincts enough, or put himself in enough physical pain, like by refusing to build himself a nest, and surround himself with the scents of safety, which really had only ever been Olruggio and Belaruit, maybe it would be sufficient enough to keep his curse contained enough for Olly to hold him again. Inks, Qifrey just wanted someone to hold him. He doesn’t think there has ever been a moment, that he can remember at least, that he hasn’t been incredibly touch starved. His skin tingles at the barest hint of another’s touch, both begging for more and demanding he pull away. It’s the kind of thing that he thought might work, he wanted for it to be enough to keep the horrid silverwood at bay so terribly he made himself sick with it.
It wasn’t though, and Olruggio called him an idiot for destroying the meager nest he had built, hoping that it would cause enough stress that he could fully keep Olruggio too, and then gone and piled nice, new, scented nesting materials into his arms and gone to guard the door from others. Qifrey had made himself and Olruggio a new nest, and then erased Olly’s memories from within it.
(Olruggio didn’t know the real reason he striped any comfort he could from his sleeping space anyway) He doesn’t know that Qifery wanted Olly so bad that he was shaking sick with it, that Qifrey had wanted to be held so terribly bad that he would have taken cuddling upon a bed of hot coals or sharp knives if it meant that Olly would be there to hold him. Though the thought of Qifrey being shaking sick with want and heat has reminded him that he will need to ensure that there is a bucket of some kind easily accessible within his room for this week of heat at the very least, and some time after too, most likely. There has not been a heat, where he hasn’t been riddled with nausea, where he has actually managed to keep down most of the food he manages to swallow through the pain and fever.
Qifrey’s mind has gotten away from itself again. It happens far too frequently already, and doubly so during the rare heat that he has had. His thoughts always end up spinning, and he ends up standing frozen, staring away into space. It appears that his feet at least had the means to bring him to the kitchen’s door, though no further than that, before he lost himself to his memories and thoughts.
The space itself is blissfully empty, though not completely clean. It seems that either the girls or their fluffy companion have created a slight mess around the sink. Qifrey doesn’t have the mind to figure out what happened to cause it, or to try and find the ones responsible for a gentle scolding on the politeness of cleaning up after oneself and maintaining shared spaces. He is far too relieved that he can busy himself with no witnesses to his stumbled steps and shaking hands. Whatever it is that has caused his suppressants to fail is also causing his heat to hit him hard and fast. Qifrey can tell that he is already running a significant fever, a red flush most likely prominent across his pale skin. He can hear Olly scolding him from within his mind, telling him once again that his skin ‘wouldn’t be so deathly pale if you’d let it out of that damn turtleneck every once and awhile to see the sun.’
The fever is not what is causing him issues right now though. Significant discomfort? Yes, but his life is lived in discomfort, it is his shaking hands and unstable vision that causes him the most worry currently. He needs to finish everyone’s meals, and then check the protection and safety spells of the atelier, and then make sure that the girls’ all have a decent nest of their own to sleep in for the week that he won’t be able to see them off to bed, and then he needs to leave a note for Olly about his ‘illness’ before retreating to his room to more or less suffer alone for a week. Yes, he has to make sure that he leaves Olruggio a note and not give into the urge to let him know in person. The urge to see his mate and dearest friend before locking himself away is a clever ploy by his instincts, trying to get him to let his alpha take care of him.
It’s not even sexual desire at this point, stress and breakthrough heats rarely are, and even then, the ‘standard’ heat is far from the over-the-top, sexualised fervor that so many erotica authors think it is. It really does seem that many have forgotten that such sundry cycles received their names from the fevers that accompanied them, and not from an overabundance of sexual action.
How so many derive the amount of pleasure they do from writing such things Qifrey will never know, but it was fun to laugh about how inaccurate the presentation was with Olly. Back when some older beta girl had given an erotica book to Olruggio in some kind of strange attempt at flirting. That had been before the forest of course, before they both chose to bypass the concept of ‘walking over eggshells’ by avoiding them with sylph shoes. Well, with sylph shoes and memory spells, in Qifrey’s case. Anytime that Olruggio has successfully gotten Qifrey into his bed, and it is far more often than Qifrey would like, has also been a time where something has happened that caused either the silverwood to sprout or the truth to be spoken. Both of which have resulted in the same thing, a peacefully sleeping Olruggio tucked safely into a small nest made just the way Qifrey knows will be the most comfortable for him, before he once again left Olruggio’s side like he was never there in the first place.
Qifrey hates how easy it is for Olly to slip his way in past his guard, how weak he is against his dearest star’s warmth. It isn’t helped at all by the one way mate bond shared between the two of them either. How Qifrey can feel all of the love, fondness, adoration, exasperation, longing, hurt that Olly holds for him, and it makes it so very hard to say no to those kind lips when they crash into his. When so often all Olly wants to do is hold and love Qifrey, in every way under the stars.
So Qifrey cannot let Olruggio know of his plight face to face. He will leave him a note with instructions for taking care of himself, and directions on where he put the work he prepared for the girls for the upcoming week, and a warning that he believes whatever it is that he’s caught is highly contagious and he doesn’t want anyone else within the atelier even having so much as a chance at catching it, their little brushbuddy friend included.
He’s managed to finish making all his dear ones food for the next two weeks thankfully, though not without a few minor to medium mishaps throughout the process. A few nicks to his skin here and there, as well as a few spilled ingredients that now rest about the kitchen’s floors and counter tops. Qifrey makes sure to label everything, going so far as to dole out portions and put names unto the different foods he has made for his dearest mate and darling apprentices.
Goodness, he really is acting terribly finicky and fussy with this heat. Qifrey can’t remember ever having to deal with the caretaking side of nesting instincts this bad before. Granted, he hasn't had a heat since long before he passed the fifth test and took on his first apprentice.
Qifrey doesn’t fully understand it at all, yes, he cares very deeply for all of his darling girls, but surely it cannot be common to be this fussy over pups that are not technically his own. Whether his instincts will ever listen to the logical side of his mind regarding that is another matter entirely though. He’s got the kitchen cleaned at this point, and any cuts he acquired securely bandaged. He doesn’t want to discover whether or not his blood will act as silverwood ink by accidentally smudging one of the spells he needs to check or fix.
It’s as Qifrey is going about the atelier checking and reinforcing all of the protection and safety spells that he discovers where all of his apprentices have made off to. He sees them all huddled around Olruggio out a little ways away from the ateliers. Qifrey can only just start to wonder what has caught all of the girls’ attention so completely when a stream of fire streaks up into the air from the center of all of them. His chest seizes with panic for a few seconds, and his body is already tensing itself to run and fetch the first aid kit (that all of them pretend isn’t there and that none of them know how to use it) before rushing out to his apprentices before he notices that none of them are startled or scared in the slightest. Breathing a sigh of relief, he realizes that Olly must have been fixing or checking on some of the warmth based spells around the garden when the girls descended on him in curiosity. Qifrey cannot help but smile at how well Olly takes to teaching the pups, and the small, very much shushed keen of his instincts and mind cooing over how well Olruggio would take care of a pup of his own.
It is not the first time that Qifrey’s instincts have noticed such things, his Olly is remarkably talented with children, so good with them, and Qifrey cannot help but think that he has robbed Olruggio of a future where he might have his own someday. It has always been clear to Qifrey that he cannot carry them, no matter if he bleeds. There is no telling what kind of hell the silverwood might inflict upon a small pup grown from within its branches, and Qifrey would never dare try tempting fate to find out. Besides, what desire have Qifrey or Olruggio for children of blood and bone and body when they already have four of their darling apprentices to care for and guide?
Qifrey can feel a faint, and somewhat melancholy, smile pull at his face as he leaves the window to continue on his way, double checking all the protection, safety, and warmth spells he and Olly have placed throughout the atelier. He is glad to have caught his mate out with his apprentices, it has reminded him of just how close winter is to descending upon them, and that he would have had to go about checking the spells regardless of whether or not he went into heat. He needs to make sure that the girls will be warm in their small nests with the coming winter season.
Qifrey is moving to the girls’ room with extra blankets for each of them when he catches himself trying to scent the blankets before leaving them tucked within each of the girls’ nests. His instincts have taken him by surprise yet again with this heat it would seem, as they fuss and whine, dare near pouting, over the lack of his scent within the atelier as a whole, but the girls’ room specifically. – How are his girls supposed to know that they are safe and cared for and loved if they can’t smell their caretaker’s scent of reassurance and safety? –
He doesn’t even understand most of the instincts that are wrenching their way through both his body and mind at this point. Qifrey has spent far too long separating and suppressing those aspects of himself that he has very little understanding of his own psyche, and what his instincts and reactions mean, at this point. He is so very tired, practically dead exhausted at this point, and for what? Making some food and keeping house? Qifrey swears that if there is one thing he detests about heats it’s how pathetic and weak they always make him feel, how needy. Always wanting more, more blankets to nest with, more warm food to eat, more time to rest, more time spent with Olly, more Olly in general, and now more of his apprentices too?
Qifery swears that if he weren’t teetering right on the edge of a full blown delirious heat that he would be able to analyze and explain exactly what it is his instincts want from/for him, but by the wise, his infuriating and annoying master included, he genuinely considers wandering outside to let himself take root for a second simply to make everything stop, even if only for a moment. He’s hot, he’s sweaty, his body has somehow broken through his magical heat suppressants – he still doesn’t know how–, and he wants nothing more than to tear off every single one of his carefully placed scent blocking seals and bundle all of his girls into his nonexistent nest. Where they will be safe, where Qifrey can scent them, and make sure they eat and rest properly. He wants to keep his -no not his- the– girls safe from the world outside, from the hurt of living and growing.
Qifrey has to remember that his apprentices are not his pups. He must remember that they have other families to return to, that one of them has only ever become his apprentice so that she might return to her mother. He must remember that almost all of his apprentices came to his and Olruggio’s atelier due to traumatic circumstances, and that while they most certainly needed, and still need, a genuine caretaker and guiding presence, they didn’t necessarily need a parent (or two).
Qifrey cannot force his own desire for the closeness of a pack upon his girls, he must be careful to keep his own feelings from overwriting their own, even unintentionally. He is the adult here after all, it is his responsibility to care for and guide each and every one of his wonderful apprentices, and that means he must keep himself emotionally regulated and sensible in order to provide an example to the girls of how to do so. Even if he and Olly really are terrible examples when it comes to relying upon others and being open (himself), and taking care of oneself as well as managing a decent work-life balance (Olruggio).
He does take a scarf from each of his apprentices though, specifically looking for the most tattered ones they have. It will give him something to settle his terrible nerves when he inevitably panics mid heat about the girls being absent from his bed/nest/room, and how that means that they aren’t safe and that they need to all be wrapped up warm in blankets smelling of both him and Olruggio and cuddled to sleep.
He knows that they have taken to sleeping cuddled up with each other in the most adorable puppy pile on the floor of their room. (Qifrey only went to check on them once to find them in a, quite frankly horribly bare, nest in the corner before he made them a proper base for one the next day, and then helped to teach them how to better construct the sides with pillows and blankets to feel extra safe, and allow enough structure to resist Tetia accidently knocking them down when she rolls into them in the middle of the night. It is clear that the events of the disastrous silvereve festival have taken their toll on all those within his atelier.
It was good for the girls to work together making a nest for them all to cuddle in, for them to learn how to better construct them from an older omega they trusted. (not that Qifrey has all that much more experience than they do, but he can most certainly pretend he does. Besides, he knows exactly how to construct a comfortable nest for Olruggio, he just never lets one be built for himself.)
So the girls all sleep better when they have their fellow apprentices near them, ideally within grabbing/spontaneous cuddling distance. One would think that the one with the strongest grip in her sleep would be Tetia, but it’s actually Richeh. Once that girl has your clothing in her death grip you are not getting away from her without either waiting for her to wake up or leaving whatever article of clothing she’s clutching with her as an offering. All of his girls are adorable when they’re all cuddled up though, shuffling around until everyone is comfortable and warm.
Qifrey loves them all so much he often feels his chest is going to burst with it. They have nestled themselves into his heart right alongside Olly, and it makes him worry ever more about the silverwood every day. He knows that he is on a timer, that the sand within his metaphorical hourglass is running down, with both his failing eye and the writhing roots beneath his skin. He cannot afford to lose a week to a stubborn breakthrough heat when it is not just himself that the brimhats are affecting again. He cannot let anything happen to Coco, or Agott, Richeh, Tetia, and Olruggio, and the damned brimhats are practically the definition of ‘anything’.
He knows he will be of no use to the cause of stopping them as he is, though, feverish, and aching and very much filled to the brim –ha, the brim– with defensive and protective instincts. Qifrey would just make for an easy target as he is, shaky and unbalanced. He needed to retreat to his room many clock marks ago, but he just couldn’t without making sure everything was prepared. That everyone was going to be as safe and cared for as possible without him directly there to supervise and soothe.
He still needs to write the explanation note for Olruggio though. He can change his original plan of leaving it either within the kitchen or Olly’s workshop though, he’ll have to change it and write it from his room to be left on his door. Because his eye is full of tears that make it all the more difficult to see, and his hands are shaking even more terribly now. And by the stars, he hurts, from his very toes all the way to the crown of his head. There is little chance of him getting any work done whilst he is confined for the week, but he makes sure he has plenty for himself to complete regardless, and even his he cannot get his mind coherent enough for any of the necessary spellwork pertaining to his greater work as a whole maybe he can make do with fixing and mending the scarves he had taken from the girls, as well as an old cloak of Olruggio’s he was so very fond of before it got caught in a flurry of loose and very ruffled poultry during a call to help fix several failing spells throughout a farming village that left it full of minute holes. Qifrey had taken the cloak from Olly after that incident, hoping that he would get the chance to fix it and return it to his mate, as a surprise of course, Olruggio thought that the cloak had already been turned into scraps and rags, he had left within the pile of ‘beyond repair’ clothing after all.
Yes, everything is set for the coming week, the girls will be taken care of by Olly, Olly will be as taken care of as he can be without Qifrey there to badger into taking care of himself with things like sleeping, and the atelier is as safe, secure, and soothing as he can make it. He has supplies and work for himself, though how much of either he will actually remember to use or do during the week remains to be seen. Qifrey is not hopeful of being able to do much, based on his few past experiences with full blown heats catching him off guard, but his room is secure, sound and scent proofed, to keep from affecting anyone else but himself, and he is very familiar with how the pain of the physical processes of heat couple with the mental and emotional ones.
It will not be a good week ahead for him, but it will pass, and then he will return to the rest of his atelier, his girls and his mate, and make sure that the brimhats are taken care of, so that they might all live happy and safe lives, after he is inevitably taken by the roots of the silverwood that threaten him. Qifrey will make sure that the brimhats cannot hurt anyone else he holds dear, he will. But first, he will have to get himself through the hell that the coming week of heat had in store for him.