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The atelier is never truly silent. Few of them though there may be, there is always someone humming under their breath, clattering pots in the kitchen, or scribbling on note paper with a pen. Qifrey rather likes it. He enjoys his peace alone, but the ambient sounds of the ones he cares for in the warmth of their home is more precious to him than any stretch of quiet.
On this day, the girls are gathered in the sunroom, sitting on the floor in what could perhaps be described as a circle, if you'd had a few too many. Note paper is strewn about as they go at their exercise for the afternoon; decorative magics, a light and fun task to help spark their imaginations. Agathe, of course, has this in the bag — it seems as though every few minutes she produces another intricate demonstration of magic twisted into all kinds of shapes — but the other three are taking their time, making sure that their fire-wreathed scalewolves don't come out with misshapen heads. Even Riche is challenging herself with a larger glyph, although her flock of tiny, dazzling blue butterflies was gorgeous.
Coco in particular has her eyebrows furrowed in concentration. One look at her and Qifrey can tell that she's got another one of her trademark ideas, but is still trying to piece together the execution. He wonders what it could possibly be.
He doesn't have to wonder long, however, as Coco sits back and raises her hand, her eyes shining.
“Yes, Coco?” he answers, smiling at her patiently.
“Professor Qifrey, do you know if there's a decorative rune for brushbugs?”
Qifrey blinks, surprised at his own surprise. His eye catches on a mass of writhing fur rolling in a small pile of discarded note parchment, nbeeing happily. “I can't say I've looked for one in my own research, but I'm sure there must be. Why don't you ask Agathe?”
At the mention of her name, the studious girl looks up, glancing between her professor and sister witch. “What did you need?” she asks, tucking some of her unruly curls behind one ear.
“Oh! Um…” Coco turns a bit pink under the attention. “I was wondering if there was a decorative rune to make a brushbug shape. Do you know if...?”
She trails off, but Agathe is already pulling a fresh sheet towards her. She quickly and fluidly draws a rune, and pushes it towards Coco. "Here. This should get you there."
Coco grins, beaming at her friend. “Thank you, Agathe! You're always so helpful.”
The witch's cheeks burn red at the compliment, but she does her best to return the smile. “What are you using it for?” she asks, peering at the keystones Coco's been drawing. Qifrey, too, squints to try and make out some of them, but it seems like they're all from different iterations and attempts.
Coco smiles a bit sheepishly. She turns to look at the brushbug, now resting comfortably atop its throne of ink and paper. “I thought... Well, I thought our brushbuddy might get a bit lonely sometimes, since it's the only one around. I wanted to make a little friend it can play with, like with a mimicry rune or something…” She glances up at Qifrey. “It's not silly, is it?”
It's no surprise that the girl's boundless kindness extends even to the smallest and wriggliest of creatures, yet Qifrey's heart warms at the purity of the gesture nonetheless. “That sounds lovely, Coco. I can't wait to see how you draw it.”
Not long after, Coco is working away, with Agathe hovering over her shoulder and offering suggestions. Coco takes each one in stride, offering Agathe words of thanks to make her flush to the tips of her ears.
So engrossed is he in watching over his students that he fails to register another presence entering the room until the other side of the couch dips, and Olruggio fills the cushioned spot, reclining and stretching his arms across the couch's back. As he lets out a bone-deep sigh, Qifrey reaches a hand across to rest on his friend's elbow.
“Finished?” he mouths to him when Olruggio's gaze meets his. The man nods, and rubs at his tired eyes. Qifrey takes a moment to study his profile; his eye bags are even more pronounced than usual, and stubble lines his jaw where usually he would have shaved it smooth. He's been working overhard, as usual, the hypocrite that he is.
“Professor!” Coco chirps. She stands before Qifrey now, holding out her sheet of parchment with a nearly completed glyph, only missing a final stroke to activate the magic. She presents it to him proudly, with a fiercely proud look in her eyes.
He takes it from her with both hands and inspects it. The runes are well drawn, no doubt thanks to Agathe's fine eye, and her keystones are placed well; her straight lines are, as always, impeccable. With a smile, he returns it to her and nods. “This looks fantastic, Coco! It will work, I'm sure of it.”
Her confidence doubled, Coco's eyes shine at the praise, and the grin she wears is splitting. “Thank you, Professor!!”
She rushes over to the pile of parchment the brushbug is now calling a home and kneels before it. “Pspsps,” she calls out to it. She rubs her thumb and forefinger together, smearing ink between the pads in an attempt to entice the creature out from its merry slumber. “I made you a friend...!”
By now, both Tetia and Riche's eyes are on her and the pile, their interests piqued and their own works-in-progress momentarily forgotten. The girls all watch as the brushbug opens one sleepy eye, then two, until Coco has its attention. Carefully, she takes the pen from behind her ear and closes the glyph on the paper. As the nib connects the ink lines, a short burst of light shines forth from the parchment. The magic now activated, Coco takes a fresh sheet of paper and holds it above the glyph.
Delicately, the paper begins to fold in on itself, twisting and flipping in various directions before it settles into a folded paper brushbug. Coco leans in and quickly draws a pair of eyes on its face, then slides the paper towards the real brushbug.
Qifrey stifles a laugh, because he doesn't think he's ever seen the creature's eyes so wide as they are now. It rushes the paper brushbug and is immediately interested, no doubt smelling the freshly applied ink from it. In response, its new paper friend wriggles and mirrors its movements, sending the brushbug tumbling over backwards with joy, or perhaps fear. Either way, it can't seem to leave it alone.
“I'd say her magic was a success, wouldn't you girls?” Qifrey beams, clapping his hands together.
Tetia giggles excitedly and launches herself over to Coco to envelop her in a hug. “Coco, that was so cool! And cute! You're so cool, and cute!”
“Riche thinks so too. Good job, Coco.”
“Agathe's the one who helped me. Right, Agathe?” Coco turns to her friend, expecting her to agree, but the dark haired girl simply gives her a light shrug.
“It was your idea. I just did the small stuff... You're the clever one for thinking of it in the first place.” Her cheeks redden as she speaks, until she has her lower face hidden by one hand.
“Agaffection.” says Riche.
“Agaffection.” Tetia agrees.
He watches as the girls laugh together; not Agathe, of course, who looks like she's considering diving into the now-abandoned parchment pile to escape, but she starts smiling, too, soon enough. It's not long before they're all scribbling away their own versions of Coco's glyph, making a group — a pack? — of uniquely crafted paper brushbugs, all different shapes and sizes. The real-life brushbug looks very happy (or frightened) indeed.
When Qifrey turns back to Olruggio, he had been expecting to find him having long fallen asleep, snoring away on the sofa. Instead, he is stunned to see him awake, with a notebook and pen of his own.
“Don't tell me you're going to add a brushbug of your own?” he teases lightly.
Olruggio doesn't look up at him, but he smirks, not taking his eyes off his work. “Not quite.”
Curious, Qifrey leans over and takes a peek, but his friend angles his page away before he can get a good look. It certainly didn't look like magic circles.
“Professor Olly? What're you drawing?” Tetia pipes up. She must have overheard them, such an observant child.
Olruggio mutters something under his breath, likely another fruitless protest that he isn't their professor, but he knows he can't very well deny one of the girls. He sets his pen aside and turns his notebook around to show the young witches what he has drawn — drawn in the less magical, more artistic sense, as there on the page is a neatly inked sketch of the four girls, surrounded by their new paper creations.
All at once, the children gasp and begin chattering with delight. Even Qifrey cannot suppress his quiet surprise and joy. It's been quite a number of months since he's seen Olruggio pick up a pen for anything other than reports to the Assembly or his next commissioned magical item. He's always loved watching him draw, wondering how Olruggio's kind eyes see the world and transfer it to lines on canvas.
“Professor Olruggio, you drew that!?” Coco asks, her eyes as wide as the brushbug's.
Despite himself, Olruggio grins, in the way he does when he wants to seem cool but is secretly very pleased with himself. “I might be a witch, but keystones aren’t the only thing I can put to paper.”
Tetia raises her hand, positively glowing with excitement. “Can you draw me in a pretty dress? Like a princess?”
“Riche wants to be drawn as a wolf.”
Soon the four of them have all but clambered onto the arms and cushions of the couch, watching Olruggio with enchantment as he doodles out all of their ridiculous requests. He's still grumbling a bit, but it's for show. Qifrey can tell how happy he is to indulge them, surrounded by the girls’ sounds of awe.
Qifrey, on the other hand, makes no effort to hide his fond smile. Though his view of his friend's work is now obscured by Coco's head, who perches on the cushion between them, he's seen enough of Olruggio's drawings throughout the years to picture the kinds of things he's creating on that page. Perhaps he’ll sneak a peek later on.
Eventually, though, time marches on, and soon the sun begins to dip low enough that Qifrey decides to call the “lesson” there, though it had clearly ended as soon as Olruggio started showing off. Qifrey pushes himself up and off the couch, clasping his hands together and turning to his pupils, still engrossed in the art process. “I think it’s about time we start dinner. Girls, could you go and wash up before we eat?”
“Can we help with dinner tonight, Professor?” Coco asks him.
Qifrey smiles, ever touched by her zeal. “If you want to, I won’t refuse you. But make sure you’ve put all of your things away before then.”
“I’ll help too.” adds Agathe. “It’s been a few days since we last helped out.”
“Great. Off you go, then.” He allows them to collect their pens, pads and papers — as well as relocating the now very sleepy brushbug and its new paper friends —, and they each disappear off to their rooms to change and wash their faces.
Olruggio makes to rise also, but Qifrey holds out a hand, motioning for him to stay put. His friend opens his mouth to object, but Qifrey is already talking over him. “And you will sit right where you are. No buts. You’re exhausted.”
He grumbles, but he doesn’t protest further. Qifrey takes that as a promise that he won’t move and so heads to the kitchen to begin preparations. He’ll make something a bit fancier tonight, as a reward for the girls’ creativity being put to the test.
He’s just tossing the husk potatoes onto the flame glyphs when he notices a soft scratching sound, and he knows what it is before he even turns around. There is Olruggio, leaning against the doorway of the kitchen with his notebook in hand, doodling away. Qifrey plants his hands on his hips and gives him a look, but the man doesn’t appear to be concerned.
“Olly, go lie down. I’ll come get you when dinner’s ready.”
Olruggio smirks, only taking his eyes off the paper for the briefest moment to flick up to Qifrey, then back down. “Nah, I’m in the mood to draw now. Not my fault my subject relocated to another room.”
Now this has his attention. Qifrey sets down his knife and approaches him, and this time when he peers over at the page, Olruggio doesn’t stop him. In fact, he turns it towards him to show him the sketch in full. Unsurprisingly, it’s of Qifrey himself, dressed as he is now and pouring water from a holder into the pot, as he did just minutes earlier. The focus of the sketch is not the activity, however, but rather the details of Qifrey’s face; calm, focused, and wearing a gentle smile that until now he had not realised he’d been wearing. It’s beautiful, despite the unpolished lines that make it up, or perhaps because of them.
“You portray me far too generously.” he half-jokes, leaning beside him against the wall. “I can’t possibly be as pretty as you make me out to be.”
“Eye of the beholder, or whatever it is they say.” Olruggio says, his smile honest if a tinge bashful. “I just draw like I see it.”
Qifrey watches him again; notes how his hand holds the pen, his gaze trailing back up to his face and his eyes, warm and dark blue like a summer night. Such beautiful eyes, always watching over him and the girls, gentle and reassuring. How could eyes like those look upon Qifrey, and see anything nearly as beautiful as themselves? How could Olruggio behold him and see something worthy of memorialising in ink on a page?
Olruggio’s eyes are on his again, suddenly, and they hold the contact for a long, slow moment. The ambient crackle of the roasting potatoes is the only noise in the room, and Qifrey finds himself leaning in before he can even think to help himself. Olruggio meets him halfway. Their lips meet in a familiar softness, and Qifrey falls into it, indulging in the fleeting moment of privacy while it lasts. He cups Olruggio’s cheek with his hand, brushing against the rough stubble there and caressing him with the pad of his thumb. He can feel Olruggio’s smile in his kiss, and he’s unable to suppress one of his own. The embrace is tender, but Qifrey reluctantly lets it go as he hears footsteps approaching the kitchen.
When his students arrive, Qifrey is already back at the stove, peeling the flower onions for mincing, and Olruggio doodles away against the wall. He welcomes them in and instructs them all on their own tasks; Agathe will mince the onions with Riche, Tetia will wash and cut the mushrooms, and Coco is on husk potato duty. Soon the room is filled with chatter and laughter, their strange little family working as cogs in one working machine, making a delicious meal for them all to share together. Just Qifrey, his beloved pupils, and the man he loves, in the place that they all call home.
Still, that voice in the back of Qifrey's mind asks him, does he deserve this? Something so comfortable, so peaceful and pure — does he even have the right to claim something such as this as his own?
But for once, looking at the smiles on the children’s faces and the loving gaze of Olruggio, feeling flour on his hands and dough under his fingers, he cannot bring himself to care.
He looks forward to seeing how Olruggio has captured this scene in his eyes.