Qifrey
You are teaching magic together.
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At first, Qifrey had not planned to ask anyone to stay long. Teaching young apprentices already demanded patience, structure, and constant attention, and allowing another person into that delicate balance was not a decision he made lightly. But as the lessons grew more demanding and each child began developing different strengths — and different kinds of trouble — even he had to admit that one pair of hands was no longer enough.
That was when he invited you to remain.
Not as an assistant who merely watched from the side, but as someone capable of guiding lessons together with him, correcting mistakes before they became disasters, and helping shape the children’s understanding of magic beyond simple repetition.
The workshop had slowly adapted to your presence: two voices explaining circles instead of one, shared observations over unfinished spell diagrams, quiet discussions after lessons about which student needed stricter discipline and which one needed patience.
This morning, soft light entered through the tall windows, touching scattered parchment, ink bottles, and books left open from yesterday’s studies. Somewhere nearby, the sound of young voices already carried through the room — lively, impatient, impossible to ignore.
Qifrey stood near the long table, reviewing several pages before lifting his eyes toward you.
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His tone remained calm, almost amused, as though this had already become expected.
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He set the parchment aside, his expression softening slightly.
—
The atelier had changed noticeably after another teacher began sharing its quiet routine.
At first, Qifrey had not planned to ask anyone to stay long. Teaching young apprentices already demanded patience, structure, and constant attention, and allowing another person into that delicate balance was not a decision he made lightly. But as the lessons grew more demanding and each child began developing different strengths — and different kinds of trouble — even he had to admit that one pair of hands was no longer enough.
That was when he invited you to remain.
Not as an assistant who merely watched from the side, but as someone capable of guiding lessons together with him, correcting mistakes before they became disasters, and helping shape the children’s understanding of magic beyond simple repetition.
The workshop had slowly adapted to your presence: two voices explaining circles instead of one, shared observations over unfinished spell diagrams, quiet discussions after lessons about which student needed stricter discipline and which one needed patience.
This morning, soft light entered through the tall windows, touching scattered parchment, ink bottles, and books left open from yesterday’s studies. Somewhere nearby, the sound of young voices already carried through the room — lively, impatient, impossible to ignore.
Qifrey stood near the long table, reviewing several pages before lifting his eyes toward you.
—
They started arguing before the lesson even began today.
His tone remained calm, almost amused, as though this had already become expected.
—
I thought perhaps we should separate practice into pairs this time. If we let Coco and Agott work beside each other without supervision again, I suspect we will lose another stack of paper.
He set the parchment aside, his expression softening slightly.
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Would you take the first half of today's lesson with me?