qifrey, beldaruit ﹠ restys x apprentice!reader: when you're shy and insecure ꒰ sfw. gn!reader. minor ﾉ teen!reader. gn pronouns used for restys. based on this ask. ꒱
*tw: reader is a bit jealous of qifrey; explicit favoritism towards reader in qifrey’s part (kinda occ, I suppose).
Your diminutive and withdrawn nature seemed, in your eyes, to be an outstanding matter to be resolved. But your understanding of yourself was dichotomous with your Master's.
No matter how much Qifrey celebrated you, you did not listen.
Despite resembling silk and nacre—and being so tremulous in your finite teenagehood—you did not seem aware of the grace Qifrey perceived even in the sound of your muffled laughter—a sound that reminded him of marine echoes, kept within the intimate whorls of coastal shells.
Placing yourself in hesitant positions. Crouching down to hug your own knee. Burrowing into your master's cloak.
Your body language was the telltale sign of a silent personality, endowed with an intrinsically restless disturbance.
“Honestly… what should I do with you, hmm…?” Qifrey whispered as he pinched your wet cheek.
You trembled, clinging to your Master's waist as he tried to disentangle himself from that peculiar hold.
Once free, Qifrey wasted no time in circling your form, standing behind your back.
“Do you want to try again…? Come on, darling. It isn't that scary.”
Sitting at your desk, your tearful eyes glistened as you observed the crystalline catastrophe before you—an iridescent, luminous amalgam caused by a faltering stroke.
Crystals are beautiful, though sharp and difficult to draw.
“Did you hurt yourself?…”
“No…”
“Hmm… great, you are a sweetheart. I couldn't bear to see a single drop of your blood. Come, let's change the paper. We can't use this one anymore.”
Your Master promptly set out to replace the ruined material, rummaging through his drawer and grabbing the nearest and cleanest sheet.
“Don't try this spell anymore when I'm not around, alright, my love? When I heard the noise, I thought you had tumbled down the stairs.”
He didn't mention the wood of the furniture damaged by the mineral—you could see it, you were aware of the disaster, so why disturb you any further?
Qifrey wouldn't make a big deal out of it.
He never did.
“Try rereading the book you took from the library, dear. The stroke wasn't shaky enough for this. Perchance you just positioned some lines erroneously.”
Qifrey advised you mechanically, searching for the book in question—for with it, the activity would be fully occupied.
“Master Qifrey…?”
“Hmm?”
“I didn't take the book…”
“Didn't you go to the Great Hall for that yesterday? You are not the disobedient type. Decided to be rebellious? Oh, how cruel.”
He laughed. It was irony, but it felt very real to your troubled emotional state.
“I did go! I just… I was too embarrassed to talk to the librarian…”
Qifrey placed his index finger under your chin, tilting your face closer.
“Really…?”
Your noses almost touched, forcing you to lean hard against the back of the chair.
“I swear…” You gulped, averting his gaze—as if that could somehow banish the flush beneath your eyelids.
Still holding your chin, Qifrey nodded, kissing your forehead in a demonstration of absolute trust.
However, this did not settle your hostile inner thoughts.
“I can't even do simple things. You surely prefer the others, right…?”
“Hmm? My love, what kind of question is that?” Releasing your face, but only to get ahold of your wrists’ circumference, Qifrey pulled you up from your seat.
“I thought I had…” he began, before being interrupted.
“Left it clear that you don't have favorite students? Hmm, obviously.”
“Oh, you are quite sassy. If only you were like this with other people, but you seem to reserve this little attitude just for me. Regardless: I thought I had made it clear that you are my favorite, dear.”
“What…?”
“‘Master Qifrey, I bet you say that to everyone!’, that's what you're thinking, right? Then go ask the girls.”
“I don't have the courage to do that!”
“Then…” holding your waist, Qifrey lifted you into the air before holding you properly.
“Don't say such cruel things about yourself. I feel proud of you. I am able to feel an extra spark of pride even when you cling to me seeking support. I adore you a little bit more each day… so, will you believe me?”
“I… well, it depends…”
“Hmm…?”
“Is there a way for you… to prove you like me that much…?”
“Oh. Oh! Great! See? At least with me you open up. Expected of my favorite apprentice! But of course, what do you want, dearest?”
“Seriously? Can it be anything?”
“Hmmm, I suppose so? As long as it's within my reach, you can already consider it yours.”
For now, you had more to think about than your self-induced inferiority.
Sinking your canines into the shaft of your pen, relishing the woody taste flooding your taste buds and displaying fingers enamored with calluses and remnants of ink—this was the you that Beldaruit had etched into his mental library.
He didn't mention your shyness when he described you. The old man had understood that, for you, it was a personal trait that would result in your ultimate annihilation.
In any case, Beldaruit didn't see you as an incapable little being—a fleeting existence in his career filled with exemplary apprentices.
In fact, you were a darling.
With your flushed cheeks, furrowed brow, and spine hunched over the table—it all composed the theatrical image of an apprentice who made themselves their own greatest nemesis.
“Master Bel…” you began, shooing away the tiny luminous beings that gathered around your materials. “With these little pixies again…?”
Beldaruit laughed heartily, guiding his sealchair closer to you.
“What's the matter…? When you were my little baby, you loved them!”
“I still like them, Master. It's just that I'm studying…”
“On a Friday night? Oh…” He threw his head back, covering his forehead with his forearm.
“How painfully diligent! Come, let Master Bel see what you're doing!” He reached for the spell on your table.
However, with sudden agility, you confiscated the paper, making Beldaruit tilt his head.
“Hmm? Embarrassed?”
“I still don't draw very well…”
“Oh, did someone say something bad…? You are the apprentice of the Wise in Teachings, sweetie. Come here…” Turning your face with a hand adorned by ancient rings, Beldaruit pressed his lips against your cheek.
“Come on, tell me…?”
“Nobody said anything, Master…” You blushed, crumpling the paper and discarding it. “Sorry, Master. Did I hurt you…? I was rude…”
“Oh, what a sweet child! I took your spell without asking… and you still apologize…” He covered his own hand; sometimes Master Beldaruit was pure dramatics.
“So what's wrong, sweetie, hmm? You are my baby, make yourself comfortable… oh, remember when you were the size of a peach? You would cry if I took you off my lap!” He lightly patted his own thighs, shifting his hands and bringing them to your cheeks.
“Do you think I'm a burden…?”
He only shook his head.
“I mean, you taught Master Qifrey. At my age, from what they say, he was much better… he at least knew how to speak in public, I believe.”
“Oh. Qifrey was a little rascal. Or rather, he is one. He would run off with that Olly during the night… test strange spells. To this day, I don't know what goes on in his mind. Know the worst part? I couldn't call him sweetie! Nor baby! Just ‘Qifrey’! How boring!”
“Master Beldy…?”
“‘Beldy!’ Aren't you just an angel! Once I suggested that nickname to Qifrey, and he told me to grow up!”
You suppressed a laugh, distracting yourself by braiding a lock of Beldaruit's hair while he vented about Qifrey.
“But you… look at you, even playing with my hair. Think of Qifrey as your impertinent older brother. You are the baby brother—you get all the pampering and all my love! So what if you're shy? You are the apprentice of the Wise in Teachings, therefore you deserve all my affection!” He pinched both of your cheeks, exposing your gums in the process.
“Master Bel… I think you're going to tear my skin like that…”
“Oh, what drama! Come here… I'm going to kiss you until all this sadness goes away!”
“Master, you treat me just like a baby…”
“Oh… hmmm, true, isn't it? Well… you are my baby! Do you want to go shopping tomorrow…?”
“Was that already in the plans, or…?”
“Oh, who cares!”
The rustling of each separate crimson curtain gave you no token regarding what should be done.
Yet, it was mesmerizing, for it wrought shadows that nicely beatified the translucent glimmer of the upcoming dawn.
Taking advantage of the faint moonlight—strengthened by the candles in their final stages—you drew the ultimate symbol.
“Stop moving like that…”
It wasn't as if the little bird was going to answer you… but who knew if there might be a spell for that?
After all, to a Brimmed Cap, anything is possible.
But then, there comes that one which you cannot handle—just like the elven pixies, cast ablaze by each candle that illuminated your chambers.
“Hmmm… what is this?”
The silky ribbons of your Master's hat took flight—hovering in the air around your face before resting upon your nose.
“Heavens, are you awake…? What are you practicing today…?” Restys paused, pressing a cheek against yours. “Oh, I see… do you want to keep him as a pet…?”
The little bird chirped softly, fluttering its now fully functional wings.
“You hardly speak to other children, why not keep a little pet? I'll allow it.”
“But I healed him so he could be free, Master…”
Restys nodded, showing genuine joy for the value you seemed to place on the liberty of a tiny creature.
“Of course, little angel…”
You stood up, letting the bird fly out through the window. Then, you closed it immediately.
“And I don't like it when you say I can't talk to other children.”
“There is no shame in that, love…” Restys said as they rifled through your recent creations placed upon the desk.
However, it displeased you.
“I know they're not good enough… my drawings…”
“Hmm? Oh, precious, I wasn't going to say that. I just saw you doing an incredible job, didn't I…? Why act like this…?”
Resuming your recent seat, you merely sighed.
“I can barely hold a conversation, don't you think the Pointed Caps wouldn't find me… obviously weird…?”
Restys laughed from ear to ear, wrapping one of the lilac ribbons that composed their design around their index.
“Hmm, you are a dove. Nobody would think you are one of the terrible, scary bogeymen they fear so much…” The last sentence was delivered with a roll of their eyes and the release of the silky ribbon—which you caught between your fingers, caressing it before letting go.
“That's why having a cute face like yours is so good. Who would doubt you?”
Without warning, Restys stayed still behind your back, taking your dominant hand into their own.
“Come on, you only falter on the outer circle…” Guiding your movements, your Master gently squeezed your wrist, using their other hand to lightly tap your shoulder.
“Hmm, see? Much better…!”
“And when you're not around, Master Restys…?”
“Did you heal the little bird with my help, darling…?”
“Well… no…” You laughed to yourself, blushing at the implied praise.
“See? Oh, look at those cheeks! Come here…” Restys showered your forehead with noisy kisses, wrapping their arms around your shoulders afterwards.
“Ah, I feel so proud of you!I bet that little bird will come back, these little creatures attach themselves to sweet children like you…”
