Qifrey and Olruggio - Witch Hat Atelier

The scent of ozone and burnt paper cut through the quiet of your living room a split second before the air itself seemed to tear open. With a sharp, cracking sound like static discharge, two full-length figures violently tumbled out of thin air and crashed directly onto your floor.

The heavy, metallic thud of a brass-adorned cloak hitting the rug was immediately followed by a low groan of pure exhaustion.

"I told you," a raspy, irritated voice grumbled from the floorboards. Olruggio lay sprawled on his back, his unkempt dark hair fanning out against your rug and his heavy black cloak tangled around his legs. He pinched the bridge of his nose, his dark-rimmed blue eyes glaring up at the ceiling in utter irritation. "I explicitly told you that the runes on that artifact were unstable. But no, the great Master Qifrey just had to inspect the inner ring before we turned it over to the Knights Moralis."

A heartbeat later, Qifrey was already on his feet. The motion was fluid, fast, and entirely defensive.

Standing in front of his fallen companion. His long, pointed white hat tilted slightly as his light blue eye darted around the room, taking in the strange environment; the electric lights, the modern furniture, and finally, settling right on you.

Despite the tension visible in the line of his shoulders under his long sleeved black turtleneck, a smooth, impossibly polite smile spread across Qifrey's face.

"My, what an unusual turn of events," Qifrey said smoothly, his voice a calm, gentle cadence that betrayed none of the sharp panic brewing beneath the surface. He stepped slightly in front of Olruggio, his hand resting casually near the his palm quire. "Do forgive the abrupt entrance. I assure you we mean no harm. Olruggio, do try to stand up. We are clearly intruding upon someone's home."

"I'm working on it," Olruggio grunted, pushing himself up onto one elbow, his wide-sleeved white shirt sagging under the weight of his slouch. He cast a grouchy glance around your living room before squinting at you, his brow furrowed. "Where in the world are we? This doesn't look like any normal building I've seen..."

Qifrey’s smile remained perfectly fixed, but his blue eye narrowed slightly as he kept himself positioned firmly between you and his ally. "A very good question, my friend. Now... would our host mind explaining where we have landed?"

The glow of your computer monitor illuminated Qifrey’s dark spectacles, casting sharp shadows across his white robes. He sat rigid in your desk chair, his light blue eye fixed on the screen as his gloved fingers moved over the keyboard. Hours had bled away while he scoured digital archives, folklore databases, and obscure historical articles, relentlessly searching for any trace of brimmed hats, forbidden symbols, or parallel realm phenomena. A cool, pleasant smile remained plastered on his face, but the manic intensity in his posture betrayed the sharp resentment gnawing at him; he was entirely obsessed with finding a way back, or finding them.

"Fascinating... astonishingly efficient," Qifrey murmured softly to himself, not looking up as a quiet scuff of metal echoed from your living room floor. "To store centuries of human knowledge without a single drop of conjuring ink..."

A few feet away on the rug, surrounded by a scattered array of screwdrivers, springs, and small heating coils, Olruggio sat hunched over your broken toaster. His heavy, velvety dark cloak was slouched off his shoulders, and he had used his cords to tie up the large sleeves of his long white shirt. His dark hair was a ruffled mess, his thin beard framing a intensely focused, perturbed expression.

"No ink... no runes... just tiny copper wires channeling energy to generate radiant heat," Olruggio muttered in awe, poking a small lever with a precision tool. He yawned broadly, his blue eyes bloodshot from exhaustion. "It's brilliant. If I can replicate this circuit mechanism with a Snugstone spell array..."

The clock on your wall ticked past 3:00 AM.

Olruggio reached for another small screw, completely oblivious to his own sagging posture and dark circles under his eyes. He was notoriously terrible with self-care, ready to pull an all-nighter dissecting mundane appliances while Qifrey remained lost in his quiet, dangerous fixation on the screen. It was clearly time for you to step in before the two witches completely wrecked themselves and your living room.

Getting two grand witches from another world to blend into a modern department store turned out to be an exercise in extreme patience. Walking down the brightly lit aisles, Qifrey and Olruggio stuck out like sore thumbs in their full atelier robes, pointed caps, and heavy velvet cloaks.

Olruggio slouched slightly under the weight of his dark cloak, his grouchy blue eyes darting suspiciously between the racks of casual wear and the sliding automatic glass doors. He picked up a basic cotton hoodie by the hanger, holding it out at arm's length with a deep frown.

"What sort of garment is this?" Olruggio grumbled, his voice gruff as he tugged at the soft fabric. "Where are the sleeve cords? How is anyone supposed to keep these sleeves from catching fire, or dipping into ink, for that matter? And there isn't a single brass button or closeable pocket to hold spell ink."

A few paces away, Qifrey offered a polite, remarkably calm smile to a curious store clerk who was staring at his white pointed hat and the custom spectacles fixed to his nose with resin. Adjusting his dark lens to ensure his right eye remained hidden, Qifrey glided over to a rack of formal jackets, his white robes rustling over his long-sleeved black turtleneck.

"Now, now, Olruggio, let us remain open-minded guests," Qifrey said smoothly, his voice patient and gentle, though his single exposed blue eye scanned the store with sharp, protective vigilance. He held up a bright neon windbreaker, examining it with genuine curiosity. "Though I must admit, the local tailoring favors remarkably... vibrant synthetic materials. Tell me, do people in this realm wear these lightweight cloaks to ward off spell damage, or is it merely a matter of fashion?"

Olruggio let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his unkempt dark hair and pulling his heavy hood down a bit lower. "It's baffling. None of these clothes have any weight to them, and I haven't seen a single decent skirt or heavy robe in the entire section. I feel like I'm wearing paper." He turned his perturbed expression toward you, rubbing the back of his neck. "Are you sure these are what normal people wear here? Because if we have to walk into that 'grocery store' next, I'd rather not look like a complete fool."

Now clad in mundane modern attire, the two witches looked far less like otherworldly spellcasters, though their presence remained unmistakably distinct. Qifrey wore a sharp, dark trench coat layered over his black turtleneck, his white hair neat and his resin-affixed glasses firmly in place to hide his missing right eye. Olruggio slouched beside him in an oversized, dark hooded jacket, his sleeves pushed up slightly, his unkempt hair peaking out as his face maintained a perpetual, perturbed scowl.

As you guided them through the crowded supermarket, Qifrey moved with fluid grace, effortlessly disarming curious strangers with a warm, disarming smile. When a passing shopper bumped into their cart, Qifrey offered a smooth, reassuring chuckle.

"Ah, my apologies, after you," Qifrey said pleasantly, his tone cool and gentle. Yet, beneath that perfectly composed facade, his single visible blue eye tracked every movement in the busy aisle, his posture subtly shifting to keep himself positioned between the bustling crowd and you. His protective instincts were on high alert, his calm demeanor masking a sharp vigilance.

Olruggio, meanwhile, was staring in sheer disbelief at a shelf of basic household goods, his brow deeply furrowed as he squinted at the price tags.

"A dozen coins for a handful of metal brackets? That’s absolute highway robbery," Olruggio muttered grumpily under his breath, leaning in closer to you so only you could hear his raspy voice. He gestured irritably toward a flickering fluorescent light above the aisle and the uneven floor tile near the entrance.

"And look at this place. The lighting is harsh enough to give anyone a headache, and that cracked walkway outside is practically begging for someone to trip. A simple heating array or a basic levitation patch could fix half these structural issues in five minutes, yet people just... live with it? It’s completely absurd." He let out a low huff, adjusting his grip on the shopping basket. "How do you people manage to get anything built without losing your minds?"

The quiet of your living room turned suffocatingly heavy in an instant. Qifrey sat at the table, a fantasy novel open in front of him, but his body had gone completely rigid. His gloved hand gripped the edge of the page so tightly the paper whimpered under the pressure.

On the page, a fictional character casually altered someone's memories and reshaped their body with a wave of a wand, treating the act as a trivial plot device.

To anyone else, it was mere fiction. To Qifrey, it was an echo of the nightmare that had stolen his right eye, stripped away his childhood memories, and doomed him to a life of quiet, consuming vengeance against the Brimmed Hats.

The usual polite, gentle warmth on Qifrey's face vanished entirely, replaced by a cold, unsettling stare. His single visible blue eye darkened behind his clear lens, narrowing into a look of raw, icy malice. A faint, low humming began to resonate in the air around him as his subconscious magical instincts reacted to the sudden surge of buried rage; a subtle pressure rising like water pooling before a flood.

Across the room, Olruggio immediately snapped his head up. His grouchy expression shifted into sharp concern, his blue eyes locking onto his friend's rigid posture. Pushing himself up from the couch, Olruggio took a heavy step forward, his slouch disappearing into urgent intent.

"Qifrey," Olruggio called out, his voice low and gruff, carrying that grounded, steady warmth meant to pull him back. He placed a firm, heavy hand on Qifrey's shoulder, casting a quick, meaningful glance toward you. "That's enough reading for right now. Look at me; you're not there. It's just paper."

Qifrey didn't seem to hear him at first, his knuckles turning white as his breath hitched, the dark resentment threatening to completely break through his carefully maintained composure.

A soft, shimmering ring of conjuring ink glowed brightly on your living room floor, pulsing with the unmistakable hum of stable dimensional magic. The way home was finally open. After months of sleepless nights, makeshift research, and navigating the modern world, the path back to the atelier was sitting right in front of them.

Yet, neither witch had stepped through.

Olruggio stood near the portal, his heavy dark cloak draped over his slouching shoulders. His sleeves were untied, and his dark blue eyes stared down at the glowing runes with a deeply conflicted, grouchy expression. His mind was racing, thinking of the young apprentices left behind, the unfinished commissions, the duties of the Watchful Eye. But as he looked up from the spell array, his gaze shifted directly to you, his brows furrowing with a quiet, stubborn reluctance.

A few steps away, Qifrey adjusted his spectacles, the dark lens obscuring his missing eye while his single visible blue eye remained fixed on you. The usual lighthearted, perfectly composed smile he wore was absent, replaced by a gentle, somber intensity. His white pointed hat tilted slightly as he took a slow, deliberate step toward you, his white robes rustling in the quiet room.

"We have spent countless hours agonizing over this moment," Qifrey spoke softly, his voice patient and warm, carrying a weight that felt entirely transparent for once. "Our duty calls us back. The atelier, our students... my own unresolved research. We cannot abandon them."

"And we won't," Olruggio interjected, his voice raspy and gruff as he crossed his arms, though the tension in his posture betrayed how flustered he was feeling. He looked away for a brief second, clearing his throat before looking straight at you. "But... stepping through that portal and leaving you behind here? On your own? Neither of us could live with that. You've looked after us this whole time. You're part of our lives now."

Qifrey extended a gloved hand toward you, his single blue eye shining with protective devotion and unspoken hope.

"Come with us," Qifrey said gently, offering you a soft, sincere smile. "It will be unfamiliar, and at times dangerous, but I give you my solemn word that we will protect you. Help us return home... together."

(Make your own scenario.)