sometimes i write stuff

foggy night

Qifrey glances over with a raise of his eyebrow that should be surprise, bemusement – except there it is again, the gap almost like the split-second delay in smoke sculptures cast by anyone but Beldaruit, and maybe even Olruggio wouldn't have been able to see it if he hadn't been around the first time Qifrey had been learning how to be a person.

But he was, and he can.

And Qifrey must know that too, because even if his face is lying his words aren't when he says, "Oh, I never doubted that for a moment."

The atelier stands lightless and quiet around them, night staining shadows across both of them and that's wrong too, he's never known Qifrey to tolerate darkness any more than he has to. It's all horribly wrong, the crackling of a spell about to go awry. "You found something at the Tower of Tomes this time, didn't you?"

He asks because he has to, he needs to know, but even then it's still a surprise to see Qifrey dip his head in a nod. "I suppose there's no harm saying it now. Not to me, at least." He pauses, and at least the curiosity doesn't seem feigned. "Are you quite sure you want to know? I won't be upset if you have to turn me in afterwards, rest assured."

"Qifrey," Olruggio grinds out between clenched teeth.

"Alright, alright. Dear stubborn Olly. I went because I was… drowning, from what I've had to do. I couldn't take it any longer, and the Tower saw that." Shadows, shifting as Qifrey finally turns to look at him properly. "Tell me, what do you know of Silverwood propagation? It's not a digression, I promise."

"Qifrey," Olruggio breathes. "Qifrey, what have you done?"

"What I had to," Qifrey answers, and the smile should be fond – I knew you'd figure it out – except there's nothing there, and it makes him dizzyingly sick. "Safety, relief, peace… they're all just emotions, in the end," Qifrey continues, and doesn't even flinch when Olruggio reaches up to lift away his glasses with one hand and light a pyreball with the other.

The warmth does nothing against the chill that rushes through him at the sight, because even back at the Great Hall he's always been able to find flecks of seafire in that blue eye but now there's… not even ice, because that would still be something but what he sees now is just – nothing, the same unchanging blankness running under Qifrey's voice since he returned this time.