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Qifrey had two problems on his hands: 1, he'd just failed to disect the ink tampered with by the Brimmed Caps, and 2, he couldn't feel most of his body. The latter was mostly due to a highly potent mixture of exhaustion and electrocution.
Of course, it just had to involve water...
By the time he wakes, the grass beneath him is damp. The humidity stuck to his robe and his hair, rendering it uncomfortably soggy. He hopes it hasn't been long; the last thing he wants is for the girls to worry.
He tries to stand. The most he can do is sit with the hopes that he doesn't lose his balance. His legs are numb, his arms are worse, he can barely feel his hands - he can't let anyone see him like this. He can't even begin to explain it to Coco. Her very own conjuring ink...
A silent mental note to get her a new set. Maybe a new pen, too. He never did get her one on their last trip into town.
After what feels like an eternity, Qifrey stands, leaning half his weight against the tower wall for support. His knees nearly buckle, but he finds a ficture against the stone wall and grips it for his life. Agott's a light sleeper.
Then, he makes his way down the stairs.
It's dark. His papers got soaked during the dissection, his ink diluted. The steady pumping of his heart and the thumping of his shoes on the stairs are enough to guide him. Some echo in an empty space.
The witch thinks. That echo. Can you hear an echo that far? How empty must a space be to still carry sound? Even the tightest spaces have echoes. Even the hollowest spaces have echoes. Does crystal echo? How far does it reach? How loud, how strong? He hopes it echoes. Maybe then, they could hear the steady pumping of her heart, the thumping sign that there's still a chance-
"Ah-!"
Qifrey stumbles, losing his footing as the feeling in his leg dissipates. It's frightening for a split second before his arm hooks onto the railing by the wall, elbow clasped against the wood. The sound reverberates within the tower; he only notices as his breath becomes louder in his ears.
Close. Too close. Someone could've heard. He can't risk it. He purposefully slows his breathing to make sure there's no movement nearby. Inhale. Exhale. Count. One... two.... three... four...
...quiet. A careful sigh of relief-
"What's goin' on?! Show yourself, you--" Another man charges up the stairs, light in hand, stopping just before Qifrey's worn form. He takes him in for a second too long. Makes sure they're alone. "...Qifrey?" Exponentially softer.
Olruggio bends down to his level, one knee on the stair step below his companion. He takes in the sight of him. A miserable sight. The lighter witch is soaking wet, minute twitches still stringing through his body. His gaze meets the Watchful Eye's for a sliver of a second. The smile he gives is unbearably delicate.
He loses feeling in his arm again. Olruggio catches him before he falls, hoisting him up with one arm propped over his shoulder so he doesn't slip back down. "You're shakin'..."
Qifrey only hums in acknowledgement. His head lolls against the other man's shoulder.
"Hey, hey, no, stay with me, now," Olruggio sputters, quickly helping the other man down the rest of the stairs. "C'mon, let's get you laid down..."
Qifrey clocks out before Olruggio can finish the second phrase.
With his body weight now unexpectedly doubled, the other witch scoops him into an easier carry, pressing his shoes together to lift quickly through the halls. They arrive at Olruggio's quarters and he shuts the door - careful not to slam - easily laying Qifrey down on the floor with a flat pillow to support his head.
"What happened t'ya, Qifrey..."
The weakened man lets out a small noise of discomfort, fingers twitching at his sides. First order of business: dry him up.
His link rings finish most of the job. Rainflinger works enough to warm up his coat and hair. Qifrey's top is still damp.
Ever so gently, Olruggio works to undo the straps at his collar. He uses his rings to warm the area, making it easier to undo. One by one, the straps fall away, and he carefully eases him out of his tight shirt.
The comfort is noticable as Qifrey subconsciously relaxes.
Now it's Olruggio's turn to tense instead.
Lichtenberg figures. Trees upon trees of red lines encase the witch's upper body like vines. They stem from his left wrist, inching up his arm and blooming at his torso. The ferns are mesmerizing in a way all patterns of nature are. The way a Silverwood tree shines and twists in branches that last forever.
They're temporary, he knows. How a Silverwood branch turns black and regrows once picked off. For a witch struck by magic, lightning scars are nothing more than a temporary marker.
Yet here he is, covering his mouth with one hand and tracing the patterns with his other. Trying to discover what this reckless witch could have possibly done to gain these fresh scars tonight.
Best case scenario, it was another wreckless spell test. They had that tower built to withstand magic and protect the rest of the residents in their atelier. Maybe the next big thing involved lightning bugs.
Worst case, it was forbidden magic. Coco's arrival spurred an outburst in activities long forbidden by witches. Perhaps he'd gotten his hands on something. Qifrey was soaking wet when he found him. Water and lightning are a dangerous combination.
Olruggio decides to wrap the worst parts and treat his wounds. Staying warm kept him still. Any squirming was met with a soft ring of a Rainflinger spell. By the time he finishes, he miraculously has enough time to lend his roommate a blanket for the night and get some shuteye.
The Watchful Eye is up by dawn.
"Oi," Olruggio mutters, just loud enough for the other to hear, "c'mon. Your apprentices'll be up soon."
Qifrey stirs, eyes fluttering open as he takes in where he is. He carefully sits up and finds Olruggio adjusting his coat on the other side of the room. This then makes him look down at his own coat. He's just how he was before, albeit dry now. His collar's a little more loose than last night. Making an effort to fix it proves too much to put strength into, and his arms are stiff from bandages under his clothes that he doesn't remember wrapping.
Of course. "Thank you," Qifrey starts, "for last night. I almost thought I wouldn't make it..."
Olruggio huffs, fixing the tassel of his hat. "'S that right?"
Qifrey hums softly. "Yes. I was worried one of the girls would find me like that." He stands - finding the action much easier than it was just a few hours ago - and ties his coat around his waist. "I'm glad it was you."
"You are?" It sounds more like a deadpan.
"That's right." Almost too light. A flick of a switch, a floor panel. "I should prepare breakfast. If they heard their Master was sleeping in, I'd be setting a bad example!"
"Uh-huh."
Master Qifrey grabs his hat that had been hung on the wall-
And drops it.
It falls with an anticlimactic puff.
He blinks. His hands are trembling.
Then he feels something on his head. Olly adjusts his hat, twirling the ribbon tassel around his finger before letting it fall into place behind them.
Qifrey's face melts into the softest smile. "Thank you, Olly."
The smile doesn't waver as Olruggio stammers, quickly moving to fix his own perfect coat and open the already opened door. "Gh- Just- Go, do yer breakfast. I'll be right down."
"Mm-hm. I'll see you then!" With a wave of his hand, Qifrey descends the stairs, already calling out to the girls to help him make the most important meal of the day.
Olruggio catches a glimpse of a tremor before the man hides it from his view. It's temporary, he reminds himself. The scars will fade away.
He just hopes that the darkness of the Silverwood tree doesn't spread and become something far worse than they could ever imagine.