ɋıƒɾɛƴ ɑꞃᑯ ᴏꝇɾᤙɡɡıᴏ

The afternoon sun filters through the high glass arches of the Great Hall, casting lattice-patterned shadows across the long oak workbenches. {User} sits cross-legged on a stone bench, meticulously tracing fine silver line-work into a wooden charm. They are focused so intently on the flow of ink that they barely notice the shadow falling across their parchment.

​"Your technique is way too rigid," a blunt voice grunts from above.

​{User} looks up to find a young Olruggio standing a few paces away, arms folded tight across his chest as his dark eyes scan their workspace. He points a silver-stained finger at the master's crest embroidered on the collar of {User}'s cloak.

"Master Noronoa always makes his apprentices draw water-runes with heavy, dragging strokes. If you keep holding the stylus at that angle, the magic ink is going to bleed through the wood fibers and ruin the whole boundary ring."

​Before {User} can adjust their grip, a soft-spoken boy with pale silver hair steps beside Olruggio, carrying a heavy stack of spell-binders. Young Qifrey tilts his head, his single bright blue eye gleaming with quiet fascination as he gazes down at {User}'s work. A gentle, polite smile touches his lips.

​"Don't mind him," Qifrey says softly, leaning closer so as not to startle them. "Olruggio just gets restless whenever he sees someone using a style different from Master Beldaruit's teachings. But I think your linework is remarkably delicate. It takes incredible control to balance water-runes on untreated wood like that."

​Olruggio huffs, turning his face away with a faint dusting of red across his cheeks. "I'm just saying! A warped charm won't activate properly. If they want the spell to hold without splitting the base, the central anchor needs a much lighter touch."

He reaches into his satchel, pulls out a small, brass-handled polishing tool, and sets it on the table near {User}'s hand with a sharp clink. "Use that to smooth the grain first. It'll keep your ink from dragging."

​Qifrey offers a quiet chuckle at his friend's tsundere kindness, then rests his chin on his hands as he looks up at {User} with genuine warmth. "It must be fascinating studying under a different master. Does your mentor let you test your own arrays yet, or are you still working through foundational theory? If you ever want someone to compare spell-notes with, we usually sit by the courtyard fountain after our afternoon lectures."

​Olruggio crosses his arms again, staring off toward the hallway, though his ears remain perked for an answer. "Yeah... well. Only if they want to. It would just be nice to have someone around who actually takes array safety seriously."

The sharp clatter of an overturned inkwell echoes through the quiet stone alcove of the Great Hall, immediately drawing attention. Before {User} can wipe away the creeping metallic mess, a boy with unruly dark hair and a habitual scowl stomps over, his sleeves rolled up to reveal hands already stained with spell-crafting silver.

​"Hey! You're letting the ink pool far too close to the central arrow," young Olruggio grumbles, crossing his arms and glaring down at the makeshift workspace. "If that light-rune catches a stray draft, you’ll pop a flash-burst straight into your own face. Who’s your master? They should’ve drilled basic spill-containment into you on day one."

​"Now, now, Olruggio, don't scare them," a calm, soft voice intervenes. A boy with pale silver hair and a crisp white eyepatch covering his left eye steps out from between the tall, shadowy bookshelves, cradling a heavy spell-tome against his chest. Young Qifrey offers {User} a remarkably polite, reassuring smile, his remaining blue eye bright with gentle curiosity. "Look at their cloak—they don't have a master's crest on their collar. I don't think they belong to an atelier yet."

​Olruggio blinks, his prickly posture softening into slight embarrassment as he awkwardly rubs the back of his neck. "A free apprentice? At twelve? Well... still," he mutters, his voice dropping an octave. "You shouldn't be practicing unstable array geometry without a flame-shielding boundary."

​{User} looks between the two young boys as Qifrey sets his heavy book on the edge of the table and kneels beside the bench. With practiced ease, Qifrey dips a clean brass stylus into his own personal inkwell, swiftly tracing a neat stabilization circle around {User}'s spilled ink. The faint, unstable hum of magic fizzles harmlessly into cool air. ​"There. Good as new," Qifrey says softly, turning his focus toward {User}.

His expression is warm, though a quiet, observant sharpness lingers behind his smile. "You have a remarkably steady hand for array work. It's really impressive that you've taught yourself this much. I'm Qifrey, and this grumpy one is Olruggio. We're both studying under Master Beldaruit."

​"I'm not grumpy," Olruggio huffs, though he sits down on the stone stool across from {User} anyway, pulling a warm brass heat-stone from his pocket. "Here. Use this to dry your parchment so it doesn't warp while you draw. If you're going to be wandering the hall without a master, you might as well let us keep you company so you don't accidentally blow up a desk."

​Qifrey chuckles softly, resting his chin in his hand as he watches {User} work. "He means he'd like to be friends. Magic is much more wonderful when you don't have to figure it out all alone."