Chapter Text
Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to Inuyasha or Witch Hat Atelier. All characters depicted belong to their respective owners.
"I don't like this." Leaning against the nearby doorway, the dark circles under Olruggio's eyes seemed bottomless as he watched his friend hover by the bed. The flickering light of his Floatglow Lamp cast a shadow across his deepening scowl. His fingers tightened in the sleeves of his robes, before he looked away. "We should report this to the Knight Moralis as soon as possible, Qifrey. It's… unnatural."
The witch haired witch breathed a quiet sigh as he turned his attention toward him. His glasses refracted the dim lighting of the Floatglow Lamp across his features and highlighted the ominous glow in his left eye. "She's miraculous," Qifrey smiled then, shaking his head when Olruggio somehow seemed to scowl harder, "I don't know how there's anything unnatural about that."
"You don't know anything about her," the other witch snorted, before adding, "It's our duty to report this, whether you agree with that or not. You're putting the Atelier at risk by even suggesting otherwise, Qifrey. Not to mention your apprentices and yourself." His dark blue eyes cut across the distance between them. The look was scathing and protective all at once. "You know better than anyone that I want nothing to do with the Brimmed Caps, and this…?" He outright scoffed. "You might as well have invited them to our door with this."
"Despite what you think," Qifrey shot back, "I know she doesn't have any spells written upon her skin." A simple flick of his wrist unfurled the end of his cape across the bedding beside him, effectively cutting off Olruggio's ability to outright glare at the young woman resting there. "You weren't there, Olruggio. You didn't see the light of her magic like I did. It is wholly her own, as strange as it is."
"You can't know that for sure." Rolling his eyes at the mere mention, Olruggio grumbled, "Nor can you say for certain that she doesn't have any spells written upon her skin." He finally gave into the temptation to rub at his aching temples out of sheer frustration. "And don't try and tell me that you had one of your apprentices check, either. The fact that you want to try and hide her here suggests that you don't want any of them knowing about this yet." His hand sliding down to his neck, he slouched further into the doorway with a faint sigh. "Which is all the more reason to tell the Knight Moralis and get her out of our hair, if you ask me. Even if the Brimmed Caps aren't involved in this, even if they don't catch wind of it for quite some time, there's no telling what kind of trouble that woman might bring to those girls."
Qifrey's mouth became a thin line of defiance at that.
"If what you say is true, her magic," Olruggio spat the word like it was poison in his mouth, "is wholly unnatural. You and I have studied the art together, Qifrey. You know that to be true, despite whatever you saw in that glade." He shook his head lightly, praying for his best friend to see reason in this. "And teleportation? Without the use of a Windowway? You cannot convince me that there isn't forbidden magic at play there."
The accusation only caused Qifrey to hum thoughtfully, as his attention returned to the bed and the young woman resting there. Her raven colored hair had spilled across the covering like dried ink on paper when he settled her there less than an hour ago. The long strands framed her gentle features, drawing the eye to where her lashes shifted against pale alabaster skin. They fluttered against her cheek once, twice, as if she were on the verge of waking from some enchanted sleep before choosing to drift back into an endless dream.
Tipping his head to one side, Qifrey quietly asked, "You remember the legend of the silverwood tree, don't you?"
"That's all it is," Olruggio quickly scoffed. "A legend."
"But legends are often seeped in truth, aren't they?" Casting his gaze back over his shoulder, Qifrey watched as Olruggio released an exasperated sigh at the simple question. As stubborn as always. "As you said yourself, we studied the art together. There's much we don't know about silverwood trees or the conjuring ink they produce, Olruggio. How the first witches came to be, even." The scowl on the fire witch's face softened then, but only a little. "As you well know, much of that information was lost with time, buried beneath the battlements. The bloodshed. The war fought to keep our secrets was not without its losses, after all, despite the efforts of our kin."
"So what then? You think she's some kind of…" Olruggio struggled with the phrase, his voice dripping with displeasure, "Origin?" He shifted against the stone doorframe, before leaning his head back against it entirely. "A first generation witch? With magic that resides within? And that silverwood tree… what? Fell in love with her? Just like the legend says?"
"I don't know," he admitted quietly. Before the fire witch could begin anew, however, Qifrey added, "But I know what I saw. That silverwood tree was withered down to the root. It hadn't been of use to anyone in a long time." His eye was filled with wonder as he gazed down upon the young woman once again. "And it's true what you say. I don't know how she appeared there among the roots. But," he paused for only a moment, before saying, "her magic healed that tree, Olruggio, even as she slept. It lives once more, because of her. How can you say that we should hand her over to the Knight Moralis without first trying to understand how such a thing is possible?"
"Qifrey…"
"You know how important silverwood trees are to witches. Even the loss of just one is devastating to us all. And she brought one back from the dead, Olruggio. Imagine the possibilities."
"If the Knight Moralis learn that you have brought another Outsider into the Atelier…" Olruggio sighed through his nose, before saying, "And all because you believe she may contain magic within her very blood… They will rip this entire place apart. They will accuse us both of dealings with the Brimmed Caps. They will say that is why you've chosen to take on Coco as your apprentice already." The dark haired witch closed his eyes. The flames were already beginning to consume them in his mind's eye with the imagery he had painted. He sighed again, louder this time. "There will be no mercy. Not for either of us."
"And what if she is an Origin? What if the legends are true?"
"And what, exactly? What would that change?" His voice was like a whip as he pushed away from the doorframe. He wanted to pace the entirety of the room, but chose to push his fingers through his hair out of frustration instead. If only just once, he wished Qifrey would see reason. Especially in this. "It's our duty to report such things, not decide whether or not she's…" his lip curled along the edge, "she's… some kind of miracle, as you believe."
"As you've so dutifully reminded me twice now, yes, I know." Watching the young woman's brow furrow amidst the conversation, Qifrey stiffened. His gaze sharpened upon her face, trying to discern if the way she scrunched up her nose was any indication she might finally wake. Or had she simply fallen into a nightmare? "But what if it wasn't her doing? What if she didn't teleport there herself?"
Olruggio scoffed at that.
"We don't know anything about her, right? Where she came from. What her name is. Why she wears such strange clothes, even."
"...right?" The fire witch frowned at the way Qifrey loomed over the young woman then, studying her behind the edge of his cloak. He took a step forward, his eyes narrowed. His fingers twitched, twisting the familiar weight of his rings into proper alignment. "Qifrey?"
Qifrey's head tilted, sensing his friend's approach. His knees hit the edge of the bed as he moved closer to it. He was almost certain he had heard her groan underneath Olruggio's call of his name. Her head lulled to one side, lengthening the crook of her neck, and shifting the elaborate array her hair had created across the sheets. He nearly stopped breathing when her lips parted and then she spoke.
"Inu… sha…"
Such a lovely voice.
"Qifrey."
The white haired witch swallowed. Olruggio was at his back now. No doubt glaring over his shoulder and prepared to strike if necessary. Unable to look away, waiting, he quietly said, "If the legends are true, Olruggio… whose to say the silverwood tree didn't summon her?"
"That tree was dead when you found it."
"Yes."
"Then how can you believe it might have summoned her?" Olruggio sneered back. "Love's only a pretty answer until it starts another war." His hand settled on his friend's shoulder, attempting to pull him away from the bed. It could be a trap, and yet Qifrey refused to budge as the woman's lashes fluttered halfway open and then closed once more. "Qifrey," he nearly hissed, narrowing his eyes, "enough of this. It isn't safe to be so close."
He only dug in his heels, quietly muttering, "Olruggio, she's…"
Olruggio's frown deepened. His gaze flickered to Qifrey's face for only a moment, questioning whether the woman had bewitched him somehow. Perhaps even before he had ever discovered her allegedly healing that silverwood tree while unconscious. He had never known Qifrey to be one drawn to a pretty face, and yet the wonder etched across his features… It seemed almost… almost as if he was… but that was ridiculous.
Though, if she were with the Brimmed Caps, then perhaps not.
His mouth became a straight line with the thought. His eyes hardened. Tightening his grip on the other witch's shoulder, Olruggio stepped back with the intention of taking Qifrey with him by force if necessary. Away from the young woman and whatever magic she may have cast.
"Tch."
The sound he released was harsh in the otherwise quiet night as Qifrey leaned away from him instead.
"Her eyes, they're…"
Olruggio tensed, his gaze snapping in her direction to find her blinking up at them slowly. Her brow furrowed in confusion, and she genuinely looked uncertain whether or not she was still dreaming after waking in a strange place, with strange people. Her lips parted around a question, but it was her eyes that held him transfixed.
Qifrey's fingers caught in his sleeve as if to anchor him in the knowledge that her eyes…
They were…
Silverwashed.