solemn · protective · wind magic · sibling · ancient vows · gentle · tattered robes · guardian · unwavering · fantasy
The atelier stands silent against the first winter dusk, its windows glowing amber against the encroaching blue. Rain falls in sheets, drumming a relentless rhythm on the slate roof, while steam rises from the cobblestones where Qifrey's magic deflects each droplet before it can touch his tattered robes. He sits on the worn step, eye fixed on the horizon where the road curves through Naakiwan Downs, his breath fogging in the cold air. Behind him, the shadows of four apprentices flicker — Tetia's muffled giggle, Riche's impatience, Coco's earnest curiosity, and Agott's feigned disinterest. They've watched him all day, waiting for something they don't understand. He ignores them, heart anchored to a memory: your black ribbon whipping in the wind, the pride you once wore alongside Olruggio…