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Rejected as an apprentice, certainly, but still branded with the name of Arklaum. Any knowledgeable witch knew that to take her in would be to proclaim oneself a rival to the great house. Harmless for now, but promising a world of trouble if she were to grow up and establish her place in witch society. So all the distinguished houses closed their doors and the others, whether they had great ambition or a lack of political insight, snapped at the chance to have a hold on a daughter of Arklaum.
Agott hated them all.
Hate was such a strong word that her family would’ve never allowed her to touch but they’re not here now and it’s all she can think about. She hates the looks of pity and disdain and feigned kindness and the dozens of hands reaching out to her. She doesn’t want any of them. She wants to go home.
A quiet man spoke to her, smiling like the rest. He offers something a little different. “A tour,” he’d coaxed, “of my atelier, just to see if you’d like it. And if you don’t, wouldn’t it be nice to step out of the great hall?”
But her curiosity won over, and she agreed.
The sun was bright. Much brighter than she had anticipated, but luckily she was smart enough to know not to look directly. The atelier itself was a rural thing, not in any bad conditions but a far cry from the grander halls she was used to. The air was different, too– lighter. It snuck into her lungs and loosened all the knots knitted in her mind.
The strangest part was perhaps the silence; no clicking of a dozen boots or the chorus of conversations. Just the wind and distant call of songbirds. The witch did not strike up much conversation with her after the initial tour, to which she was grateful, and Agott was ashamed to admit she spent more time outside the atelier than touring the actual structure.
She took a deep breath and it came easy. When it was time to leave, she couldn’t bring herself to go back under the water.
Qifrey inhales sharply as he heaves the last of the crates through the window way. Placing it down gently before he stands back up, stretching his back. Next to him are half-dozen crates slowly forming into a small pile. The servant of house Arklaum has already left, though not before lecturing Qifrey’s ear off about Agott’s diet, health, and expectations. Emphasizing how Qifrey must carefully monitor the atmosphere of his atelier to make the transition from the great hall to the outside easier– else the young apprentice is sure to fall ill.
Qifrey nodded along, he knew most of it, though he admits some of it was still helpful. Some part of him wants to be glad that there are people at home who care, if only regarding her physical health, about Agott.
The lecture seemed to have come from a place of condescension rather than concern, with the way they kept eyeing his atelier and questioning his credentials. However little they thought of Agott, they thought of him and his atelier even less.
“Is that the last of them?”
Qifrey turns towards the familiar grunt and smiles, a miasma of excitement and nerves. He clasps his hands together.
“Yes! Thank you for all your help, old friend. Sorry you had to cut your trip short for this.”
“Oh don’t spare it a second thought, this is a tremendous occasion after all,” Olruggio leans against the half-wall overlooking their common room, “your very first apprentice.”
Qifrey beams, or maybe he grimaces, he’s not quite sure. His heart hasn’t settled down since this morning, no one can claim this little remedy isn’t working.
“I think I might have overprepared, I didn’t expect them to send so many things from home. I don’t think I even had this many possessions to my name as an apprentice.”
Olruggio hums, a hand rising to rub at the sore spot on his neck. “No, I suppose we didn’t. All for the better, though, that she has familiar things here. Stepping out of the great hall and such, it’s a big change.”
Qifrey absentmindedly traces his fingers over the wooden border of the crates.
“It is. I hope she’ll like it here.”
His thumb catches a loose piece of wood, and he fiddles with it. He thinks about meal prepping, keeping to the ingredients Agott is used to and incorporating them in his recipes. But isn’t that too boring? Qifrey has no credentials as an instructor and he’s self aware enough to know that his atelier being out of the public eye is likely the only thing keeping Agott here. He doesn’t want to bore her with dishes she’s already used to, but too many new things could be too abrupt of a change to the body. Not to mention he doesn’t even know what she likes. He tried asking her but she just shook her head and said anything’s fine.
Either way, he doesn’t want to push. She should at least have the first week to acclimate before he starts his lessons. A week is a while, though, will they have enough things to do? Oh, what if she runs away! Qifrey’s done so much more than he can count and-
He stops, he’s been quiet for too long. He looks up to see Olruggio studying him. What is that? A mix of relief and a bit of– wow ok time to stop that train of thought immediately.
“Ah! Haha.. sorry, my mind trailed off.” He smiles apologetically, mending the quiet as best he can. “I think I’m more nervous about this than I first expected.”
Olruggio breaks his gaze with a hum and straightens himself up. “Don’t stress about it. I think you’ll be a wonderful teacher,” he grins, teasing, “Master Qifrey.”
A jumble of nerves shoots out from his heart. “Ha! Now don’t you start!” He tugs at his tassel, embarrassed. “Oh, I’ll never get used to that..”
A quiet chuckle is all he gets out of his watchful eye before he retreats back into his study.
Qifrey watches him go.
He looks again to the crates.
They are more than crates. They are things. Clothes, inks, sheets, books, stationeries. More than what he had at that age. Between the folds of fabric and carefully wrapped glass, a life is breathing within these crates. A life he takes into his two hands for himself yet still promises to nourish. A living pen that he poises to his skin.
Nausea quiets his nerves and he steels his resolve. The only way he will ever make up for his greed is to be the best fucking professor to have ever walked this earth. No matter how difficult the apprentice, he’s ready.
Qifrey is not ready for this.
He prepares for an overzealous curiosity and has backups to childproof the common spaces. He prepares for rebellious outrage, speaking to countless witch and non-witch parents alike to gather their experiences. He prepares for attempts of escape, so he circles the area again and again to make sure the terrain isn’t too hazardous. He redecorates his entire atelier. Soft lights, books, paints, even opening up new spots in his herb garden.
None of it mattered. Agott sits by the fireside, practicing her spells at a low table suitable for her height. She does what she is told, helps with the house chores, and spends the rest of her time working away through her studies until the sun sets. She never complains, or speaks more than she needed to. She was the ideal apprentice, and it was terrible.
Qifrey sighs, leaning against the kitchen counter and scratching at his head.
“Trouble in paradise?" Olruggio asks behind him, serving himself a small bowl of his midnight soup.
“No…no, there’s no trouble.” He opens a drawer next to him and passes Olruggio a spoon before he can ask. “She’s a good student. Diligent and hardworking,” he hesitates, “She seemed so excited her first day here, but I think the novelty of my atelier is running out rather quickly.”
“Ah.” Olruggio takes the spoon, slightly stirring his soup before he puts the bigger jar away. “Children will grow homesick, Qifrey, there’s not much we can do about that.”
Qifrey looks up, surprised. “Oh, yes I suppose you’re right.”
It’s not homesickness though, is it? Homesickness didn’t make the eyes so red and glossy, puffed around the socket with stress. Homesickness did not show signs that Agott, rather than sleeping, shed countless tears in the night. Did he notice too?
“She’s clearly having trouble getting adjusted, but her situation…I worry is all. I don’t know how to help her when she won’t talk to me.” Frustration leaks through his lips, “I feel lost.”
He expects some kind of reassurance but instead he hears an amused snort. “Hey!” He looks at him, baffled, “I’m pouring out my heart to you!”
Olruggio waves away his complaint, “No, no, I know. I’m sorry. You’re right to be concerned. You just reminded me of someone.”
Qifrey tilts his head curiously but Olruggio ignores him. “The only remedy for this is time,” he picks up his soup, no doubt to carry it off to his study. “Let her come around in her own time, and meanwhile let her know you’ll always be there.”
Qifrey watches his friend go. “Time, huh?”
He looks back toward the entryway that leads to the common room, where soft firelight still illuminates the walls and one can hear the quiet scritching of a pen leftover from daylight.
“I hope you’re right.”
Qifrey lost his apprentice.
A bumbling fool, who loses their apprentice? Did he grow too careless? Did Agott make a run for it? He looks through every room, her things are still there. He patrols the outside of the atelier, there’s no obvious trail. Finally, he goes to get Olruggio.
There, by the stairs going up to his desk, is the back of a familiar white dress. She is watching Olruggio working on his drawing board. Qifrey lets out a sigh of relief, but once he realizes that he hasn’t been noticed he stays to watch for a little while.
Agott is soon noticed and she quickly starts apologizing and darting away, but Olruggio stops her and after a moment sighs and invites her up. Agott hesitates but tentatively heads up the stairs. Like a skittish cat, Qifrey muses.
Olruggio pats the spot next to him, inviting her to settle down. She does. He explains his current commission, the drafts he’s worked up, why they don’t work, and what he’s trying to fix. Agott watches it all with wide eyes, piping up with questions every now and then. Speaking more curiously and openly than Qifrey’s ever seen her.
Olruggio seems surprised too, becoming a bit flustered at her torrent of questions and obvious admiration. He laughs awkwardly but answers her questions anyway, settling into the conversation.
He watches the two of them more than he means to. Eventually, he pulls away, and heads back to the kitchen. He stands there, amongst the shelves and cabinets of his home that he had built with his own two hands. He can hear faint sounds of conversation seeping through his walls. His hand is hot. And it leaves an imprint on the counter when he places it there.
He should start on lunch.
The sun set three clock marks ago, yet sleep still eludes Qifrey. He puts away the book that has proven itself a poor remedy. At times like this, a good cup of Beast-tail tea always does the trick.
He walks past Olruggio’s room, a dim light still shining through the cracks of his door, making him smile softly to himself. Just as he lights the sigiled lanterns lining the kitchen wall, a loud clatter and a crash fills the kitchen.
Agott stands, frozen, near the kitchen counter. Stiff as a board and staring wide-eyed at Qifrey. A shattered plate lays at her feet.
“Agott?!”
That snaps her out of it and she recoils away from the scene, as if hoping it would absolve her. She opens her mouth but quickly shuts it again and holds his gaze for a moment before she breaks that, too, opting to just stare at the floor.
“Oh, Agott, are you alright?”
Qifrey quickly lowers his voice and closes the distance, placing his small lantern at a nearby table. Agott uncoils slightly when she realizes that he’s not terribly upset, and Qifrey kneels down next to his apprentice.
When he goes to examine her hands, she lets him.
“I’m sorry for startling you.”
Qifrey continues softly, turning her hands this way and that to make sure there aren’t any cuts. He pauses momentarily when he spots her ink stained fingers, had they always been this dark? He pushes that thought aside for another time and instead guides the young girl to step back away from the pieces of clay scattered across the tiled floor and instructs her to wait at the dining table.
He sweeps the bigger pieces away and wipes the smaller fragments up with a wet cloth. It’s hard to spot the tiny shards with only the kitchen light, but he manages.
More than anything, he uses this time to gather his thoughts. Because despite it all, Qifrey feels strangely calm. Steady. Even excited. This feels significant, like a potential chance for a breakthrough.
“I’m sorry,” says a small voice.
Qifrey looks up, surprised, and smiles gently. He finishes up the last of his cleaning and stands back up. “There’s no need to worry, my dear, that’s why we have multiple plates.”
Agott stares at Qifrey. Then, she starts crying.
Big, wet tears roll down her cheek and she lets out a throat-tearing sob, her hands rubbing at her face to try and wipe away the mess. Suddenly any semblance of calm he had immediately shatters,
“Agott!” Qifrey steps forward, a hand outstretched but Agott turns away. She tenses her shoulders up and lets out a sound of objection as she continues sobbing. She slumps her head and her small body curls into itself as much as it can without falling through the table. Qifrey stops, frozen, unsure of what to do. Every instinct yells at him to go and comfort her but she clearly doesn’t want it. Or maybe he’s meant to break the ice?
No. He shouldn’t push. So he stands there, staring for an awkward moment before he bites through his shame and turns around, giving the young girl privacy to sort through her feelings. After another moment, he starts quietly drawing sigils to boil a pot of water.
The low humming of the pot fills the room and he grabs two mugs out of a cabinet as well as the Beast-tail tea. Then he pauses. Instead, he grabs the more special and potent Halftea. He leaves aside some milk to heat up, and scours their leftovers until he finds a lemon tart that seems just right. Boiled water is slowly poured into the mugs. In one of them, a bit of cool water from the vapor bubble is mixed in so the temperature is perfect for young tastebuds. By the time he’s done, only quiet sniffles remain.
It takes two trips, but he gently places everything he’s prepared onto the dining table. He doesn't ask any questions, and just sits across from her. He stirs some of the warmed milk into his tea and takes a bite-sized piece of the lemon tart. It’s unusual for him to have sweets before bed, but for this, he thinks he needs to. It takes a moment, but to Qifrey’s relief, Agott eventually does the same.
“What were you doing up so late at night?” Qifrey kept his tone soft, curious as opposed to accusing.
Agott doesn’t answer immediately, nursing her cup and hiding behind her long locks of hair. “I couldn’t sleep,” she takes a sip of the tea, then takes a bigger sip once she realizes it's not too hot.
“I see.” Qifrey drinks from his own. “Well, there’s no reason to be walking around in the dark. Next time, please just light at least a lantern for yourself,” he continues quietly, “Or better yet, come to me or Olruggio.”
Agott takes another bite of her tart. It’s hard to tell if any of his words are getting through to her, and judging by how her eyes are starting to get droopy, he doesn’t have a lot of time left to try.
The silence is somewhat alleviated by the soft clicking of dishware. Qifrey thinks of saying something again but before he knows it, they’ve finished their cups.
Qifrey stands and tentatively extends a hand.
“Would you like to give sleeping another shot?” Agott looks at his hand and stands up on her own. Qifrey awkwardly rescinds his hand, and the two walk down the hall
Agott walks beside him, her head is hung low and drowsy, nodding off in spite of her steps remaining steady.
Qifrey feels his heart ache and his shame ambushes him for having wanted this night to be an opportunity. He desperately wishes he could clean away all her tears and magically produce something that would make her laugh, or even smile. Something that would take away all her woes so she can live and play like children ought to. What good is magic, if it cannot do even that?
But he can’t. She would not let him and there are problems he cannot fix. But there’s always something one can do. He just needs to find it.
They reach Agott’s room and he hands her a vapor bubble.
“Make sure to clean up before you head to bed, alright? Or else you’ll wake up with your face all dry,” he pauses. “Do you need any help?”
Agott shakes her head and takes the vapor bubble from him before heading off into her room.
“Agott,” she pauses but doesn’t turn around and Qifrey becomes increasingly aware of how little he’s been able to see her face this evening. Olruggio’s words flash across his mind. “I’ll always be here, alright?”
“..Mhm,” she steps past the stone hedge where stairs await to lead her down to her bedroom, out of Qifrey’s sight. He closes the door to the study and spends a moment leaning against it. His mind races. He takes a deep breath.
I hope I’m doing this right.
Children are a handful, he’s been told. Teaching is a headache, he’s been warned. It’s why he started teaching in the first place. But this is different, so different than he could’ve imagined. What children know and the trust they place into the world, it is all determined now. It all depends on their guardians, on their teachers, on him.
But he doesn’t know what to do.
-
Qifrey had thought, or hoped, that night was a breaking point, where student and master finally understood each other. Unfortunately, Agott thought it was the most embarrassing thing in the world.
She avoided him like the plague. She wouldn’t even look at him and kept anything she said even more curt than usual.
But smaller things changed. She started idly tapping her fingers against the table while she worked. She would swing her feet as she waited for her meal. There was less tension in her posture.
Qifrey paid attention to all of it and felt as though his heart would burst with pride. He couldn’t stop smiling for days, and started humming while he cooked, much to both Agott’s and Olruggio’s confusion. So much joy that he carefully rationed through his days. And beneath it all, he gained a semblance of confidence.
“Agott!”
Qifrey’s cheerful voice breaks through the silence of the atelier and Agott looks up from the quill, the hearth roaring softly beside her.
“I have a few errands to run in Kalhn, won’t you accompany me?” He playfully leans sideways until he is at eye level with his apprentice. “You’ve been cooped up in this little atelier for far too long.”
Agott hesitates, reluctance written all over her face. She looks back at her work, her jaw working away as she considers.
“..Okay.”
“Wonderful! Grab your coat, it can be quite chilly at higher altitudes.”
Agott has already mastered her sylph shoes, as required of the first exam, but she quickly begins to falter once they start to fly above the water. The wind grows aggressive here and it starts jossling Agott’s balance. She flops her arms around trying to maintain her flight and Qifrey can’t help but feel amused as Agott’s face gets furiously red.
“There’s no need to feel embarrassed, Agott, the wind outside is very different from the great hall. Anyone would struggle on their first flight.”
Agott furrows her brows, still shifting her balance to find the best way to combat the wind, “but I’m better than that.”
Her quiet retort seemed more to herself than anything else and Qifrey allows it to get carried away by the wind, leaving it unacknowledged.
Instead, he opts to give her some pointers, which bristles her feathers. But a gentle reminder that this is his job seems enough for her to get over her overzealous pride.
Qifrey isn’t sure whether Agott has been to Kalhn before, but one look at her tells him she hasn’t. She stays dutifully by his side but her eyes travel from stall to stall and building to building. Witch’s stationery is surely nothing new to her, for there are far more in the great hall, but he supposed that everything looks a little different under sunlight.
Qifrey watches as Agott slowly loses all her tension, her eyes wide and curious much like how she was when she first visited the atelier. However, she quickly schools her expression and feigns indifference anytime she catches him looking. Qifrey can’t help smiling to himself and happily strolls along, purposely walking a little slower and taking the more scenic route. A group of musicians sets up near a water fountain and Agott’s eyes linger. Qifrey makes some excuse of checking out a stall so they can stay within view of the orchestra.
Turning to speak to the stall owner, he pauses. Cloudcatcher twigs. Pre-made and all shaped like the head of an owlcat. Qifrey briefly remembers seeing an owlcat plush amongst Agott’s things, maybe she’d like these too.
“Agott,” he calls over his apprentice who takes a second before she draggs her eyes away from the performance. “They’re selling cloudcatcher twigs, would you like one?”
Agott freezes the second she sees the decorated treats. Her eyes wide and glimmering with more stars than Qifrey had ever seen on her. She doesn’t even try to hide her expression anymore, just stares back and forth between her master and the cloudcatchers.
“Can.. Can I?” She mumbles through her hand, as if afraid to make her request too loudly. And Qifrey beams.
“Of course!” He quickly sifts through his coins to pay the stall owner who has been patiently watching the two, who chuckles as he accepts the money. The merchant seems somewhat amused at the overt excitement of the witch master and student, both over what seems like a mundane interaction.
One wouldn’t be able to tell who is more delighted. Agott, who holds the windcatcher like it's the most precious thing in the world, or Qifrey, who’s beaming at the fact his apprentice just expressed a direct desire for the first time since she got to the atelier.
He finally starts to make his round purchasing the supplies he’s lacking. Agott stays beside him, still staring at the cloudcatcher as if afraid to ruin it.
“They’re for eating, you know?” Qifrey smiles, gently teasing his apprentice. Agott looks to him and finally takes a bite of the puffy sweet treat. As they continue to make their round, he sneaks glances at his apprentice every now and then and marvels at how animated she looks compared to the earlier week she had spent in the atelier.
It is thanks to that attentiveness that Qifrey notices when suddenly Agott’s expression freezes and then quickly falls. Before he can ask her anything she turns to him and uncharacteristically begins the conversation.
“Master Qifrey, when will we be returning to the atelier?”
Qifrey blinks. Stunned. “Well, there’s two more stops I’d like to make.” Suddenly paranoia strikes him. “Why? Is something wrong?”
Agott shakes her head, once again averting her eyes and following him around with no more questions.
Qifrey looks around the market, wondering what could have possibly triggered this change, but there is nothing. No people looking their way, no buildings or places that he can think of that would set his apprentice off. Nothing seems wrong but the mood has irreversibly changed. Agott’s no longer looking around and just keeps her eyes forward, not even the last few remaining cloudcatchers alleviates her. It is a small relief that her expression doesn’t seem upset or anxious. Just annoyed.
Qifrey makes the rest of the trip short and they return to the atelier in silence.
He starts making preparations for dinner and Agott quickly cleans up before she returns to her studies. She doesn’t act differently the rest of the day. Whatever had troubled her at Kalhn didn't last, but the whole thing continued to pick at Qifrey.
Since then he has made a point of bringing Agott outside the atelier. He asks Agott to help him out in the garden, or suggests taking a picnic further out of the atelier. Every time Agott will look reluctant, but she will still agree. Once they are outside, she loosens up, relaxes, and has fun with whatever activity Qifrey dragged her out to do. Then suddenly, like a string cut, her mood will sour and she will soon ask to return inside.
It puzzles him to no end, he wants to ask her himself but he’s afraid of pushing too much. He goes to Olruggio, at his wit’s end. Olruggio jokingly suggests that maybe she just doesn’t like him but quickly takes it back and reassures him once he sees the look of distraught on Qifrey’s face.
One day, Qifrey sets up a painting station outside. It’s mostly for fun, but practicing how to grip different brushes will come in handy once Agott starts learning bigger carving tools. She lasts about 10 minutes, her shortest record yet, before she asks to be dismissed. Qifrey can’t help but feel saddened, and tries to coax Agott to stay a little longer.
“Come, Agott, you’ve been studying all morning. Breaks are important too.”
There it was again, that look of reluctance.
Her shoulders tense. Her mouth twitches slightly.
“I’d like to go back inside.”
“Won’t you stay a little longer?” She shakes her head
Qifrey reaches out with his hand, “the weather is-”
“No!” Agott suddenly screamed, slapping his hand away. “Stop!! Stop it! Stop taking me outside, stop taking me away! You’re supposed to be my teacher, so teach me!”
Her voice cracks. Her eyes glaring and accusatory, tears brimming and threatening to fall.
“Are you trying to fail me?! If you don’t want me as your apprentice just say so! I’m already falling behind, at this rate I’ll never get to go home!”
Oh.
Qifrey tries to speak but no words come to him, he doesn’t know what to say. Doesn’t know how to reach her, or what he’s reaching for. But he needs to. do. something.
His silence seems to aggregate her even more and she makes a frustrated sound before her eyes dart to the canvas they'd be working on. She grabs the stand and throws it to the ground. Bowls of paint spill across the grass, some of it splatters onto his dress. She doesn’t bother waiting for his reaction before she flees back inside.
That snaps Qifrey out of his stupor and he rushes, tumbling and tripping over his feet to get to the atelier. Olruggio stands at the doorway, seeming to have just been on his way out when he ran into Agott. He sees Qifrey and his eyes grow wide.
“Whoa! Slow down, what happened out there,” He places a hand on Qifrey’s chest to stop him but he just shakes his head.
“No. It's some misunderstanding. I need to talk to Agott.” He goes to move past him but Olruggio shuts the door behind him. “Olruggio?”
Olruggio presses his lips to a flat line, eyes closed and brows furrowed in concentration, the way he does when he’s trying to work out a tough commission. But Qifrey doesn’t have time for this, he goes to move past him again but Olruggio pushes him back.
“Qifrey.”
He stops. Suddenly feeling like he’s in trouble.
“Geez, you should see yourself.” Olruggio sighs exasperatedly, pulling Qifrey away from the door. “Talking in that state will do nothing for you. I forget how impulsive you get when you’re flustered.” He pauses, and then adds, “Plus I don’t think Agott will listen, by the looks of her.”
Qifrey doesn’t argue, he rarely ever does when it comes to Olruggio. Olruggio lets him go once they're a good couple steps from the door. Turning to look at him.
“Well go on then. Tell your watchful eye what happened. I gotta do my job somehow.”
“I don’t know what happened,” he starts, but halts midway. He stops because it's a lie. He does know, at least, he’s starting to. His eyes still dart to the door. “I think I messed up. Or misunderstood something.”
His words stumble out, lacking the usual eloquence he trained them to wear. Anxiety grips his heart into a headlock. Olruggio made a good call. Qifrey would’ve been an eldroxen in a stationery shop if he had tried to speak to Agott now.
“I don’t think she likes it here.”
Suddenly he’s terrified, unreasonably so. His voice is a whisper. “I don’t think she wants to stay.”
He doesn’t know why he’s so scared of the thought of Agott wanting to choose a different master. Of her leaving his atelier, or going back to the great hall.
Olruggio just looks at him for a moment, taking this in. And Qifrey desperately wishes he will fix this for him. That he will somehow say just the right thing, weave a golden string, that will make everything clear. The way he always does.
“You can’t make her stay, Qifrey,” Olruggio finally says. “If you’re right, if this is not the right atelier for her, you can’t keep her here.”
His heart deflates. “I know. I know. I just-” he falters.
“This is so hard.”
Olruggio huffs out a laugh.
“No one said it wasn’t. But if you’re serious about this, if you meant what you said when you took that exam, you keep offering your hand anyway.” His eyes are stunningly blue and it pins him in place. “You may have another apprentice, but she’ll only be a child once.”
Qifrey doesn’t respond. He can’t.
“I’ve seen you, Qifrey.” Olruggio presses a loose fist to Qifrey’s shoulder. “You’re a good teacher. You’ll figure this out.” His gaze finds the mess out on the yard. His hand lingers and he leaves him with one last reassuring pat.
“And I, will take care of the rest.”
-
Agott doesn’t leave her room for the rest of that day. Not when Qifrey called her for dinner, nor when he gently knocked on her door an hour later. It is not until after the sun has set that the young apprentice sneaks outside of her room, driven by hunger. She lights a small lantern for herself, and carefully covers the light with one of her cardigans. She finds a plate of dinner, covered with a lid of repetition, on the kitchen counter.
She washes the plate before she returned to her room.
-
The next morning, Agott doesn’t leave her room until the sun is up in the sky. When she does leave she finds breakfast waiting for her, and her master on the seat next to it. He looks up when she enters and Agott squeaks, quickly turning around to make a run for her room.
“Agott,” she freezes, calculating whether she could get away with ignoring him. Slowly, she turns back around, though her eyes are fixed on the floor.
“Come on,” says Qifrey, gentle, “have breakfast with me.”
Agott hesitantly sits across from him but doesn’t quite touch the food. She’s tensed up and fidget. He decides that it’s maybe a good thing.
“I’m sorry, Agott. I haven’t been very respectful of your time, have I?”
Agott froze, and snapped her head up to finally look him in the eyes.
“I had an idea of what I thought was good for you, and I went ahead and did it, even when I knew you were reluctant. You are an incredible student, Agott, and you study harder than I ever did at your age. But you’re still a child, and-” he’s getting ahead of himself again. Qifrey shakes his head and tries again.
“But you’re right. I am your teacher. More than anything, I am your teacher, and I should’ve acted as such.”
Qifrey smiles, guilty.
“This is Master Qifrey’s first time being a professor, so he’s not very good yet. Could you find it in your heart to forgive him?”
Agott is still and Qifrey can’t tell what she’s thinking. She looks back down at the table, offering an apology of her own.
“I’m sorry for yelling.”
Qifrey waits for Agott to meet his eyes again, and speaks with all the conviction he can muster. “If I make you so frustrated you want to scream and shout, then do so. I will gladly get yelled at a hundred times over if it means you’ll talk to me.”
Agott doesn’t respond, but she doesn’t look away either. Her eyes are locked onto his, crystal clear, as if she’s finally landed at this atelier.
His expression softens, and he holds out his hand. “I promise that I will respect whatever you want to learn at whichever pace you desire,” he pauses, “However long you wish to stay at this atelier, I will be your master and do everything in my power to help you. Just promise me that in return, no matter how you have to do it, you will talk to me. That you’ll tell me what you need. What you want. Alright?”
Agott looks at his hand and takes a breath. Then, she reaches out and takes it.
A clasp of covenant over the dining table. It is incredibly awkward. Qifrey has to stretch his neck out and halfway through Agott has to stand up to meet him in the middle, but they make it. The scene is so ridiculous that Agott can’t help but snicker, and Qifrey grins.
“Alright.”