"your magic is so kind. it says more than words ever could."
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hellooo I'm Kat! welcome :)
àȘâ⎠23, she/they, bisexual, college senior, lover of all things whimsical
On the Horizon {works in progress}
~All The Stars in The Sky {Orufrey slowburn} Ch 1 & 2 are POSTED!!
~Tea Leaves and Lost Loves Pt 2
The Sky's Most Radiant Stars
~Flame Dancer {Fire Lord Zuko}
~Tea Leaves & Lost Loves {Fire Lord Zuko}
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Summary: Life working as a server at The Jasmine Dragon has always been peculiar to say the least. Turns out that lunatic Jet was right; the staff of Ba Sing Seiâs most beloved tea shop were firebenders. Not only that, but the bitter reclusive server boy? He was the disgraced Fire Nation Prince. So maybe you had no right to be shocked when your awkward work crush returned to the shop, with the crown of the Fire Nation perched on his head.
Pairing: Fire Lord Zuko x fem!reader
Word Count: 4.7k~
Content/Warnings: n/a
A/N: Rewatching the third season of ATLA and I just think the episode where Zuko goes on a date with the girl from Ba Sing Sei was so cute it has been living rent free in my mind. i might do a second part to this bc idk if i rlly like the cliffhanger rip
The dull white noise of conversation in the parlor, muffled by the cloth divider in the kitchenâs doorway, lulls your senses as you brew a new pot of tea for the noble who had just arrived. You rarely got to brew the shopsâ finest Jasmine tea, the leaves saved for only the most honored guests. Beyond the partition, you could hear Iroh chatting idly with the newcomer, though you couldnât make out who exactly was on the other end of the conversation.
Youâve been The Jasmine Dragonâs main server for years now, even doing a stint as acting manager when your boss, a man you knew as Mushi then, disappeared with little warning. The locals had been crestfallen to see the shop absent of its jolly owner, but you had made your best effort at keeping the place up and running on your own. Honestly? The most difficult part had been handling the return of Mushi; the whiplash of the admittance that he had been using a fake name, the now constant whispers of the patrons that the fiery young man you had worked with, Mushiâs nephew Lee, was actually the disgraced Prince of the Fire Nation.
It felt bizarre to picture Lee in anything other than his earthy colored uniform and apron with his scowling face, even if you had seen the illustrations of him in the regal garb of The Fire Lord that Iroh brought back with him after travelling home for his nephewâs coronation. The illustration was still pinned up there in the kitchen, the harsh rendition of those soft golden eyes always peering down at you as you worked.
âFire Lord Zuko; Bringer of the Dawn of a new Fire Nationâ Read the script that was scrawled down the side of the scroll. It was the only way you could really be reminded that Lee wasnât his
real name. In his ink rendering, Zuko was only slightly older than the last time youâd seen him in Ba Sing Sei. As the steam of the teapot swirled gently upwards, you were trying to picture how he might look now.
âHow is it going back here?â Â Irohâs smiling face emerges from behind the cloth divider, jolting you back to reality.
âAlmost finished, would you like me to fetch some pastries too?â You loaded the tea set onto the serving tray, already well aware that your indulgent employer would want a snack to go with the tea.
âThat sounds lovely,â you could hear the smile in Irohâs voice. âIâll be taking our guest to the private parlor if you would be so kind as to join us once youâre done?â When the graying man sees you nod in response he ducks back out into the shop, leaving you to finish assembling the tray.
Itâs not until you emerge back into the main parlor that you realize the ambience of chatter that typically fills the place is hushed. Patrons whisper excitedly at their tables and watch you like hawks as you carry the serving of tea and treats towards the closed private tearoom. The silence rings loud in your ears as you draw the door open to step inside.
The sight of him, sitting elegantly at the low table, knocks the breath from your lungs.
 Heâs massive; a hulk of toned muscle with posture that made it clear he was royalty. Gone was the wiry boy you had bussed tables with, the slouched awkward teenager trying too hard not to look comfortable in the Earth Kingdom.
âLee?â
The sound of his old alias brings an amused smile to the Fire Lordâs lips, and you feel your face set ablaze with embarrassment.
âSorry. Fire Lord Zuko, itâs a pleasure to see you again.â You set the tea tray down on the oak wood table, kneeling to pour two cups of tea.
âItâs nice to see you too.â Zukoâs hands brush yours as you pass him the cup, and he fixes those gentle golden eyes on you.
âI hope my dear Uncle hasnât been piling too much work on you as of late.â
Iroh scoffs as he scoops the teapot up from the tray and pours a third cup, gesturing for you to join them. You sit hesitantly.
âI wouldnât have to drown the poor girl in so much work if I could find some other decent help.â He raises an eyebrow at his nephew, as if to imply that running the Jasmine Dragon should take priority over running the Fire Nation.
âSorry Uncle, if I could trade council meetings for serving tea you know I would do so in a heartbeat.â
You canât help it. You let out an embarrassing snort, choking on the swig of tea halfway down your throat as you try to hold your laughter. The Fire Lord furrows his brow at you and cocks his head to the side like a confused puppy, which only makes you giggle harder.
âYou hated customer service.â You manage between gasps for air.
âEvery shift you had something to complain about!â
You cross your arms and scrunch your face into a replica of the scowl he wore for his entire stay in the city and summon your best impression of Lee.
âHow insufferable can they get?! They just want Jasmine tea; but they must want it brewed in a crystal teapot with the light of the full moon to imbue it with peaceful energy, because theyâre never happy with how I make it!â
Iroh is doubled over with laughter. Zuko drops his face into the palm of his hand, his silky curtain of hair the only barrier concealing the scarlet flush creeping up his neck at your mocking performance.
âThey kept saying they could feel my negative energy steeped into it.â He groans pathetically.
âIf anyone in all of Ba Sing Sei could have steeped their grumpy energy into someoneâs tea, it would be you.â
âWhatever, the point is somehow the Fire Nation nobles are worse.â
âDo they nag you about your negative energy as well?â
The sound of Iroh chuckling at your familiar bickering somehow returns you to your senses. Youâre mocking The Fire Lord about his customer service skills, or lack thereof. You open your mouth again to apologize, but Zukoâs expression halts you. He looks at ease, eyes alight with his laughter.
âPolitics is just customer service without a friend to complain to.â He shrugs.
âMy only real reprieve is my letters to my friends; no one would intercept and read through my correspondence with the Avatar. I treat him like a private journal at this point.â
âYou know youâre always welcome here!â Iroh reaches across the table to pat a hand on Zukoâs shoulder reassuringly. âCome visit whenever you need to let off some steam.â
Zuko rolls his eyes, but the smile lingers on his face. âOf course, I can always halt the rebuilding of the Fire Nation, the work on the reparations to the other Nations, the domestic humanitarian efforts; all projects I can put on the wayside. In fact, why donât I tag in another member of the royal family to help me! Do you think Azula would take an interest in the infrastructure repairs in the Northern Water Tribe?â
A glint of mischief appears in Irohâs kind eyes. âAlright, so you canât just take time off to visit your aging uncle. At least spend some time with the lovely ladies of the Earth Kingdom while youâre visiting! Who knows, we may just find you a Fire Lady. That would relieve some of the councilâs worry, wouldnât it? Iâm sure they would let up on you a bit if they knew you had at least a chance of producing an heir.â
You choke on your tea for the second time today. Zukoâs face has returned to the embarrassed pink color it was minutes before, and Iroh is grinning smugly as he looks between the two of you. You huff a strangled chuckle, starting to gather the empty dishes back onto the tray. Easiest to take this as your cue to leave; the idea of listening to Iroh rib Zuko about his love life sounded mortifying.
âââââââąâŠâąââââââ
When you stepped behind the partition the next morning, gathering your hair up into your hairpiece to keep it out of the way, you were stopped short by the figure occupying your place at the counter. Zuko had traded his scarlet silk robes for the muted cotton uniform of The Jasmine Dragon. His long hair was pulled into a neat knot at the back of his skull, lacking the gilded hairpiece he had worn yesterday. His calloused fingers handled the ceramics with a delicacy you wouldnât have expected from him.
The Fire Lord was working his old customer service job.
And he looked obnoxiously good. Not that he hadnât looked divine in his royal attire; but there was something about how human he looked, with his head free from the weight of a crown and a serving apron tied snugly at his hips, that made him painfully handsome.
âCome now, thereâs work to get done!â Iroh bustled past you, the hint of laughter in his voice undisguised as he scolded you. âHelp my nephew prepare for the group in the private parlor, would you?â
âRight, okay.â Youâre quick to sling your own apron around your waist as you join Zuko at the counter.
âHope youâve been thinking happy thoughts while you brew.â
âOf course, all sunshine and rainbows over here.â
The soft chuckle your quip earns you sets loose butterflies in your stomach. Itâs strange to have him here again. You feel hyper-aware of his every move, the way he radiates heat in the small kitchen, the sound of his breath as he lights the stove with his fingertips.
You try to let the rhythm of work take you over, to soothe the tension in your chest, and finally feel the weight of his presence lift slightly as you focus on the pastries youâre shaping. You feel more comfortable in the silence of work than the awkward pauses in conversation from yesterday, happy to let the clink of tea sets and the muffled ambience of the parlor be the soundtrack of the space.
The feeling of a hand on the small of your back, feather-light and cautious, jolts you from the flow of work. The warmth of Zukoâs palm bleeds through your shirt as he steps behind you. And then itâs gone, the only evidence of it happening at all is the blush burning bright on your cheeks.
âSorry; Iâve got a tray of ceramics, didnât want you to step back and bump into me as I passed.â
Heâs balancing a full serving tray of cups on one hand, smiling softly at you over his shoulder. âYeah, of course.â
Really eloquent today, arenât you?
The rest of the day passes without a return to your mental sanctuary of workflow. Youâre once again painfully aware of every movement Zuko makes, as if the air he shifts with each breath sets your every nerve on fire. When you step into the parlor to deliver a tea set to the newest arrivals, the place is packed. Not with the usual flow of nobles and couples on expensive dates, but with what must be every bachelorette in all of Ba Sing Sei. Their heads snap to the counter when the sound of your footsteps reaches them, fast enough to evoke a sympathetic pang of whiplash in your own neck, but as soon as they register itâs you the return to their whispered gossip. Itâs almost unsettling to watch them perk their ears like dogs whenever the cloth divider shifts.
What a bizarre aura for the usually peaceful shop to have. It felt uncomfortable now to know that the patrons were waiting so intently for a glimpse of the Fire Lord.
âYou might want to be careful going out there.â You tell Zuko as you duck back into the kitchen. âThe ladies are prowling like huntresses.â
Zukoâs golden eyes are narrowed when he looks at you, brows furrowed in what you can only guess is confusion.
âHm? What do you mean by that?â
You roll your eyes at him. As if he doesnât know. âThe court ladies in the parlor; they arenât our regulars.â
That gorgeous scarred face stayed clouded by puzzlement, maybe he really hadnât changed that much. Even when you were teenagers, girls had crowded into the shop to try and flirt with the angsty mysterious barista. His ignorance of their attempts to snatch his attention had only made him a more enticing individual.
âYouâll see when you take the next order out.â You sighed.
The spectacle of throwing Zuko to the wolves was too good to miss, so you lurked behind the counter as he assembled the tea tray youâd tasked him with bringing out. The second he emerged from the kitchen, brows still knit together with confusion, the parlor seemed to buzz with whispers. There was a heaviness to the air itself as the crowd of women watched Zuko cross the room to set the tray down on the noblemanâs table; and when he returned to the counter all hell broke loose. Girls flocked to the counter, all chattering over one another in an attempt to talk to the poor bewildered man behind it.
You were struggling to contain your laughter, wishing you could get a portrait made of the panicked expression on the Fire Lordâs face to tack up next to his royal flyer in the kitchen. But in some dark corner of your heart there was a twinge of jealousy you wished you could extinguish. It was that same childish resentment you had felt towards any dolled-up girl who had come in to the shop years ago asking for âthat beautiful boy with the scarâ, it felt ridiculous to feel it resurface now.
But through the cacophony of voices, Zuko seemed to pick out your laughter. He glared at you over his shoulder, but it was lacking any real fire behind it. Though he tried to maintain the scowl all the attention had put on his face, it softened at the sight of your smile.
âDonât look so much like youâre enjoying this.â He pleaded.
âOh, but I am enjoying it, Your Highness. Besides, wasnât this the goal your dear uncle had in mind for your visit?â
The look of horror and the deep red shade that took the place of Zukoâs scowl just made you laugh harder.
âââââââąâŠâąââââââ
Iroh and Zuko departed early in the evening, leaving you to close The Jasmine Dragon on your own. You didnât mind; the quiet of the empty shop was soothing. After all the dishes were set out to dry and the parlor had been swept, you tucked a parcel of leftover teacakes into your bag and began to lock up the shop.
Your heart plummets into your stomach when you turn from locking the front door to see a man leaning against the door frame, and your pulse only slows slightly when you register that itâs Zuko.
âShould you really be lurking outside the tea shop without any sort of royal guard?â
You glance around suspiciously for signs of the soldiers who had accompanied him and Iroh when they left earlier. âSeems kind of unsafe for The Fire Lord to be wandering the Earth Kingdom alone.â
âShould you be making the journey home alone this late at night?â Thereâs that ridiculous amused smile on his lips again as he quirks an eyebrow at you. âI think youâd be in a bit more trouble than me if someone decided to pick a fight.â
As badly as you want to conjure a rebuttal, you have to admit that heâs right. Compared to him you would be relatively helpless in a fight. His smile remains as he steps away from the door, gesturing for you to follow. The streets of Ba Sing Sei were lit by the gentle green glow of the lanterns strung between the shops lining the street. The only noise that broke the silence was the occasional clatter of a passing wagon and the sound of your footsteps.
What kind of small talk do you make with royalty?
The silence felt like a chasm between you two; your boldness to tease and joke with the Fire Lord now gone despite your best efforts to recall it to use. This was a man youâd spent lunch breaks and evening rushes with. The same guy you had chattered at endlessly a few years ago.
The same boy youâd even had the courage to kiss the last time he had walked you home like this.
You shiver at the unpleasant memory of that night; at the frown he had worn after the kiss, the awkward dodge of your request to go out together after your shift the next day. The way you two had parted had been humiliating; Zuko mumbling something about not being the kind of man you wanted before disappearing the next day after a huge fight with his uncle.
Maybe that was the real problem. Not that Zuko was royalty, or the son of a war criminal, or a close friend of the Avatar, just that he was almost like an ex.
But maybe you were being a bit delusional thinking one kiss would make you important enough to be awkward around.
It takes you an unbearable amount of time to finally speak, a feeble attempt to spark conversation. You feel almost childish asking, sheltered and naĂŻve, but it was all you could think of discussing with him to ease this awkwardness between you two
âWhat is the Fire Nation like?â
Youâve been curious since Iroh returned from that first visit home, weighed down by spiced treats and beautiful formal garments. The Fire Nation felt to you like a far-off world, untouchable here in a land that hadnât even been willing to acknowledge it when it had sent armies to its doorstep. You know Iroh would have happily talked of his homeland, but you had just never felt there was a good time to ask; to try and really understand who he and his nephew were. The lunch rush certainly wasnât the time to ask your boss to divulge such personal things.
âWell, itâs much warmer, though Iâm pretty sure you could already guess that much.â Zukoâs voice held no mocking tone, much to your relief.
âItâs a lot of urban area, especially in by the royal capital, shopping districts like this part of Ba Sing Sei. Our buildings are more Imperial style though, with bright red pillars and yellow roof tiles.â He glances sidelong at you, smiling softly with pride. âLots of Dragon statues. And we throw lots of festivals, as a kid my favorite was the Solstice Revelry. Mother always had to keep me from eating too many spice cakes.â
âI think your uncle brought some of those home; Iâd need to be cut off from them too, they were delicious.â Iroh had mentioned they were Zukoâs favorite, chuckling to himself as he reminisced on what you could now assume was an embarrassing story about Zuko eating too many sweets.
Zuko was laughing now too, a gentle sound tinged with embarrassment. As if reading your mind, he turns to you and asks, âDid he tell you about the time I tried to command a shop keeper to smuggle me more sweets after my mother asked the vendors to cut me off?â
âNow you have to tell me.â You grinned wickedly at the Fire Lord, eager to hear what was clearly a mortifying story. He grimaced half-heartedly, he was the one who brought it up, so it was only fair he tells you the whole story.
And he did. He confessed, face bright pink the entire time, that when he was a boy, he had eaten enough spice cakes to make himself sick. His mother had given the sweets vendors at next yearâs festival strict instruction that he was not to be given any cakes.
âNone at all?â you feigned horror, hand pressed dramatically to your chest. âHow could they do that to you? Such disrespect!â
Zuko rolled his eyes at you, though the adorable awkward smile he had worn since he began the story stayed present on his lips. âThatâs exactly what Azula said. That I couldnât accept such coddling if I wanted to be respected as a member of the royal family; that it would be shameful to allow the vendors to refuse me service.â He shook his head, his raven hair swinging with the movement.
âI canât believe I actually took her seriously, but I threw a whole fit at the next stall demanding that they not treat me like a toddler. It made me look even more childish than overeating the year before. Father was furious with me, Iâve never seen Azula look so pleased.â
Youâve done your best not to laugh as heâs been speaking; beneath your amusement youâre surprised heâs been willing to indulge you so far as to share such an embarrassing story. But when Zuko suddenly crosses his arms and halts, morphing his beautiful face into a pout, and begins to recreate his childhood attempt at a demand, you canât contain yourself. Heâs stomping his foot as he complains that he canât be told no, heâs the Prince of the Fire Nation. You laugh so hard it hurts, and he doesnât stop his ridiculous display until youâre doubled over and begging him to give you a break.
After minutes of gasping to regain your breath, you finally find your voice again. âOh, I would have taken that to the grave. I canât believe Iroh never told me that story.â
âI think he was trying to spare me the embarrassment of you having even more to poke fun at me for. Probably thought it would give me excuse not to visit the Jasmine Dragon.â
âI would have thought you didnât need excuse to avoid returning to the city,â a slight frown tugs at the corners of your lips. âDidnât think you would be inclined to visit a place you were miserable in.â
Zuko gave you no response, the silence once more taking weight as you creep slowly closer to the street your apartment was on. Youâd likely overstepped in mentioning his discontent living in the earth kingdom, even if it was true.
âI always thought the stars in Ba Sing Sei were beautiful.âÂ
The sound of Zukoâs voice cutting through the din of the night again surprised you. And even more surprising was the admission that he liked something about the city. The fondness in his voice. He had always seemed to harbor a quiet resentment of the city; one you had always attributed to struggling with life as a refugee.
âThe stars?â You craned your neck to look up into the sky, at the glimmers of light floating in the ink pool above your heads. They were beautiful, but you couldnât quite understand what made them any more special than the others in the sky.
âTheyâre so bright here; in the Fire Nation capital the lanterns are usually kept burning bright late into the evening, so the stars are harder to see. It was one of the things I liked most about this place, even if I wouldâve never admitted then that I liked anything about living here.â
âOh wow, I didnât realize even the stars in the Fire Nation could be different.â
You finally turn your gaze from the sky to find that Zuko isnât even looking at the stars. Heâs staring at you, smiling like youâve done something endearing. A betraying blush finds its way onto your face as you knead the back of your neck to ease the strain of twisting it to view the sky.
The two of you continue walking, the silence now a bit more comfortable. You manage to break it occasionally with talk of the shop, of Iroh, and complaints about the customers that come into the shop. Zuko listens like your voice is siren song, never taking his eyes off you. When you reach your apartment, he continues to chat idly with you at the doorstep, easing the anxiety you had been brewing that perhaps you had upset him.
âI missed that sound.â He says suddenly, barely a whisper.
You had been laughing at a joke heâd made about what a pain the Chamberlin would be as a customer. The air in your lungs seems to freeze, like risking a breath would erase the sound of those words. Youâre not even sure if he meant for you to hear.
âI missed you.â
Youâre almost appalled by the vulnerability of it, that you would confess such a thing so readily. You hadnât expected to ever see him again, especially once you had been told who he really was, but his absence from the shop had felt massive. Even once Iroh had returned and you werenât drowning so completely in the loneliness of being in the shop alone.
âI thought you had simply forgotten me in putting your life as Lee behind you. Seeing as you seemed to hate life here so much.â
âI never forgot you.â Zuko didnât look hurt by your selfish complaint, which almost makes you feel worse. âEven if I was bitter and angry living here, it never meant I wanted to leave you behind. I was so angry because I was lost, I had to find my place in the world.â
Heâs looking at you with such sincerity that itâs almost painful to meet his gaze.
âI found myself, Iâm less angry now.â
His smile is cautious, like heâs afraid you might run from him. âItâs uh⊠actually part of why I chose to visit. I thought maybe now that I know who I am and where I belong in the world, I could be deserving of your time.You were another thing I always loved about Ba Sing Sei.â
You feel your mouth drop open. âWhat?â Your voice is barely a croak, your shock robbing it of any volume. Zuko scrubs awkwardly at the nape of his neck, smiling shyly down at your dumbstruck expression.
âI never really gave you an answer on going on that date you asked about. If I recall correctly, I reacted pretty poorly and then disappeared the next day.â You nod.
âIf youâre willing to forgive my broody teenage self for that, Iâd really like to have another chance.â
You want to respond, but your brain is short-circuiting. You open and close your mouth, still stunned, trying to force your vocal cords to produce sound. The word yes seems to lodge itself firmly in your throat, unwilling to rise any further, so you just nod again. The smile that takes over Zukoâs face is blinding.
âAmazing. You have no idea how long Iâve been thinking about this; seeing you again, I mean.â
âReally?â Your voice shakes pitifully, but Zuko still beams at you. âReally.â
âIâve thought a lot about it too.â You feel sixteen again, blushing and mumbling like youâve never spoken to a boy before.
âWell, I wouldnât want to make you sick of me in one night, you should probably get to sleep.â
You unlock the door and turn to step into your home, but before you can shut it, Zuko calls your name. He hovers at the threshold of the apartment steps, brow furrowing briefly before he returns to you in the door frame and takes your hand in his. A whispered gasp escapes you as he presses his lips against your knuckles. Even after he had dropped your hand, the warmth of his touch lingered.
âIâll see you at work tomorrow?â The quiet awkwardness you had found so endearing as a teenager had crept its way back into Zukoâs voice. You nod, mute once more, watching as the Fire Lord retreated down the steps with an impish grin on his face.
âWonderful, sleep well then.â He glances over his shoulder a few more times as his hulking figure shrinks into the distance; you stand there on the steps long past his departure.
witch hat manga hurts so so bad but we have 2 stay strong bc ONE DAY weâre gonna get that first splash page fullbody orufrey crying hug drawn in crisp 4k by shirahama and it is gonna hit like a tractor trailer going 90 on a country backroad.
Summary: Qifrey has to leave the Great Hall. It cannot be his home; he canât afford to put down roots here. But when his closest friend Olruggio becomes his Watchful Eye, embarking with him on his new path as a teacher, the threat of home comes with him into the countryside.
.⊠ĘË | Chapter 1: What Makes an Atelier a Home
It was a cold day for the Atelier. Snow fell lightly outside, powdering rocks, plants, roads and buildings in a white sheet.
Despite the cold, a few birds still seemed to hum as rosy fingered dawn emerged from across the horizon, casting the Atelier in a soft warm glow that somehow made everything feel warmer. Qifrey stood in the dainty kitchen of his home. His hair stuck out in some places, and his glasses laid askew on his face, still weary from a long night of sleep; he continued to don the attire he wore the night before, simple plain white pajamas and a long-sleeved tunic, that had a small portion on the front that held the same pleated pattern the girls wore on their dresses, and two buttons- that served no purpose whatsoever-
It was on chilly mornings like this he remembered how grateful he was to have moved outside the great hall. He never appreciated being met with the dome, and outside it the ocean, on mornings where he vaguely remembers sunshine and warmth. He never really was able to remember his past that deeply, but at times like this, where the winters cold sent a chill up his spine only to be countered by the warmth brought upon by his unruly band of apprentices, did he not mind starting anew.
And speaking of his dear apprentices. If he could guess, theyâd still be asleep by now, all tucked in bed in an effort to ward away the chill. It was well past their regular wake up time, even Qifrey himself was surprised how late heâd waken up.
Despite that he decided to prepare breakfast anyways.
He moved around the kitchen slowly, minimizing noise to avoid stirring the other inhabitants of his Atelier. He placed a pan on the stove, its color changing from a silvery steel to a cobalt black, one of the many inventions of his dear Olly, the color change imminent to distinguish when the pan was hot and unsafe to touch.
Once the inky black of the pan had fully settled, he grabbed the oil bottle, skillfully unhooking the metal pieced that clogged the nozzle of the bottle closed, and poured a generous amount of oil into the searing pan. The oil was quick to bubble, heating up as seconds ticked by.
He then grabbed six eggs, cracking the first five on the outskirts of the pan, then one in the middle. He allowed them to cook for a while, a yawn leaving his mouth as he put his hand up his shirt, scratching his stomach. He let his hand stay there, finding its warmth rather comforting.
Once the white of the eggs had cooked halfway, he opened the vapor bubble and dipped his hand it, he splashed the water from his fingers into the pan, steam beginning to rise. Before more of the steam could escape, he closed the pan off with a lid, allowing it to cook for a minute or two before snuffing out the fire and lifting the lid.
He couldnât help but smile at the fruits of his labor; laid out beautifully on the pan was six sunny side up eggs, charred a golden brown just right at its edges, its yolk still slightly runny.
He quickly set them on plates while they were still hot.
He grabbed three magic cookpots from the shelf near the stove,
a small one containing mashed carapace yam that Tetia and Richeh collaborated to make. It was mixed with horncap gravy, butter, pepper, and cheese- all mixed up making what they called the âRicheia special mashâ taste absolutely divine. Qifrey couldnât help himself when he put a finger full of the soft pasty like store in is mouth, relishing in the way it seemed to melt on his tongue. The mash had been getting smaller and smaller, always incorporated in meals just like the one he was making, hence the small jar. He took about a cup each of the mash for each plate.
The next jar was much bigger, this time containing soft, white rice. Unlike the other jars, this one was newer, being made just a week ago in preparation for winter, when rice grains would be a tad bit more expensive. This one had been made by Coco and Agott. The rice was boiled in light herbs and spices, giving it a more unique flavor profile, one that Qifrey more than enjoyed. He also took about a cup of rice for each plate, shaping it into a small dome using a bowl before placing it on the white ceramics.
The last jar- one much taller than the rest, though not as big, held crispy bacon. It was leftovers from yesterdayâs breakfast. Thanks to the spell, it was just as crunchy and tasty as it was the day before, vouched by Qifrey who took one into his mouth, chewing on it happily. He took four for each plate.
He finished setting the table by placing utensils and glasses meant for water or whatever other beverage they had in store. He stared at his work with pride. It was silly. This was but a simple task in comparison to his other more notable feats. He agreed so, but the love he put into this simple meal made it all the more special. A smile graced his face, and he felt rather embarrassed getting giddy so easily. But who was he to stop the undeniable warmth that surged his chest? He seemed to forget about the world around him when thinking of the very people he made this meal for; his four apprentices, all working so hard in hopes to improve and soar above. They were oh so tired after the night of Silver-eve, all four of them offering great contributions during the time of need. He was blinded by his miserable predicament then, but now that things had calmed down, he couldnât be anymore prouder, and he wished he had been more present when they returned to Atelier. He truly did hope they didnât take his coldness for anything else other that restlessness.
Qifrey is alerted of another person near him when footsteps start tracking their way down the hallway, a yawn following it as they grew closer, and therefore louder.
The steps halt underneath the arched doorway that separated the hall and the living room. A mop of pink hair peeked above the stone wall that separated the pit the kitchen sat in and the elevated living room. Soon enough, the interested face of Tetia popped up just behind the wall at the top of the small stairs.
âGâmorning msâtr QâfreyâŠâ Greeted she, voice still disabled by sleep and wear.
Their dining area was a small wooden platform that sat adjacent to the small stairs; There, sat a chabudai, and six different zafu.
For the girls was a round green one that sunk in the center for Coco, a purple square one with white polka dots and lace trim jutting the corners for Agott, a pink one shaped into a dainty heart made with fluffy fabric for Tetia and last but certainly not the least, an rectangular blue one, its velvety fabric similar in color to one of Richehâs famous crystal ribbons.
Then for he and Olruggio, a twin set of white and black round leaf shaped pillows. Bought when they were just apprentices themselves, they found the twin set of Zafu cushions seemed to follow them wherever they found themselves settled.
His eyes followed Tetia, smile tainted in playful amusement as she wobbled her way onto her spot at the table, smiling drowsily. It wasnât long until the rest of the girls came to join, all of them yawning and hungry, eyes sparkling in delight upon seeing ang smelling the meal Qifrey prepared. Last to arrive at the table was Olruggio. Unlike the rest that wore sleepwear; the girls in cream white sleeping gowns, and Qifrey in his long-sleeved tunic and pajama pants, Olruggio seemed to still wear yesterdayâs attire, his usual working outfit minus the big robes and cap, hair tousled and eyebags heavier than usual. Another night of drafting a new device, Qifrey concluded.
Qifrey patted the white pillow that laid empty beside him, inviting the haggard man to the meal. Olruggio let out, what Qifrey could vaguely describe as a grunt or grumble as he made his way to the magic stove, walking past the eating girls and the inviting witch.
âWell, pleasant morning to you as well, Olruggioâ Said Qifrey, voice feigning innocence and sweetness.
The Grumbling man grunted once more in reply. Reaching the stove, he took a mug from the hanger, putting it down on the stoves table, before putting in a handful of ground coffee beans into a coffee maker.
The lid of the coffee maker contained a ringless spell, runes of fire, water and wind were drawn on it. Once he put the lid on the device, it connected with its ring and the spell activated.
Olruggio let the magic contraption finish its work before pouring the freshly brewed and searing hot beverage into his mug.
Only then did he make his way to the table, sipping his drink as he did so. Plopping down on his chair, he leaned his head on Qifreyâs shoulder.
He sighed heavily, still weary from sleep. Qifrey in turn laid his head on the black mop of hair.
They both basked in the noise the four girls provided as white noise; ceramic plates clanking against metal utensils, chewing, talking, laughing, fabric shuffling.
âI could get used ta this..â Olruggio mumbled softly.
His eyes drifted up, half expecting Qifrey to be looking back. He wasnât. His blue eye was gazing at the scene infront of them: Agott feeding Coco as Tetia and Richeh giggled in the background. Agott held out a spoonful of the carapace yam. Her hand shook lightly as she pushed int forward to Cocoâs open mouth. She held a hand under the spoon incase she were to drop the mash from her shaky hands.
âyeah..â Qifrey whispered,
eyes looking down to find Olruggio already looking. The two men just stared at each other, smiles dopey and fond. They were oblivious to the fact that the girls had quieted down, their attention of their professors staring into each otherâs eyes.. eye? Eye eyesâs? they didnât know either really.
Their brunch ended with all four apprentices washing the dishes as their mentors swept and dusted the atelier.
Once all the chores were finished, the four girls separated into groups of two, resigning themselves to their study rooms to.. well, study.
Olruggio went back to his workshop, grumbling small complaints about difficult clients and nonsense mechanics, all the while Qifrey laughed.
The ivory haired witch was the last to leave the living space of the Atelier.
He grimaced as he felt his shoulder begin to ache.
something about beldaruit being disabled himself and teaching qifrey who is also disabled and suffers from chronic pain in the way he does is very special to me. you rarely ever get disabled teachers at all but qifrey learnt how to be one and wanted to be one in part because of his own...it's really sweet
11 assignments just spawned into my canvas I could actually cry (I willingly signed up and paid for these classes) I just want to get over my writers block about Orufrey I donât wanna do my degree