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When it snowed in Ghodrey, it was like walking in a ghost town.
At night, it almost seemed as if the entire world was packed into cotton. There was no up, no down, no forward, no back. It was just you, the endless white, and the faraway sounds of the wind, coming from everywhere and nowhere all at once. No matter how many bundles of fabric you wore, the cold always seemed to seep in. It went through your coat, your skin, everywhere it could touch, until you could hardly feel anything but the burning in your lungs and the added weight on your eyelashes. It was heavy. It was quiet. It was the kind of silence that welcomed you right before something horrible happened and nothing was the same ever again.
In the morning, looking at the snow-filled world was enough to hurt your eyes. The sun, if it dared to show itself, turned everything into a blinding emptiness, burying the entire town into a pristine blanket, almost as if it was a painting left out in the light for far too long, all its colors bleaching away.
In there, snow kept falling and falling and falling. When it stopped, it fell again right away. A land with an everlasting winter.
When it snowed in Ghodrey, it was like walking in a ghost town.
Back then too, when the worst day of his life happened, it just kept falling, as if to mock him. As if to say, see? What happened here didn't matter. The snow would keep piling up and the world would keep on turning.
Despite being almost an adult now, Olruggio still felt his heart beat heavily inside his ribcage and his breath come shallow when he decided to come back home for the first time since the Nauz accident (stars, he still hated that word. As if the moment his entire life fell apart could be summarized in such a tiny word. An accident).
It took guts for him to be here now, staying in his now empty home, watching the snow fall outside.
How could it not terrify him to the bone, when he knew precisely what waited for him here? It was like stumbling upon a beast with its jaws flung wide, and calling it wisdom to step inside its mouth.
He knew the folk didn't like him much there, faulting him for his failure back then, and those that did see him in a positive light could only offer him pity. He knew that his home, albeit untouched by time, would only be empty, filled with dust. He knew that the moment he stepped inside, nothing but bitter memories would rise up within him. He knew that every breath he drew would only sear his burning lungs. He knew he would begin to wonder what it had been like for the witches back then, to freeze to death. He knew there was nothing left for him there.
He knew.
Yet, childishly enough, he felt he had to do this. Maybe to prove to himself that he was no longer shackled by his past, or to finally become a proper adult — he didn't know. He just felt he should come back to his home, at least once.
So here he was now, on his second night in town, unable to sleep without dreaming of suffocating to death beneath the crushing weight of snow, of a monster sinking its teeth into his neck with enough force to snap the bones beneath, of the cold slowly crawling through his limbs until it stilled him entirely, freezing him to death.
Try as he might, he couldn't bring himself to explore the house any further, settling instead for sleeping in the living room and using only the bare minimum of the kitchen and the bathroom. It was strange, feeling like a guest in his own home, but even that was preferable to the tangled knot of feeling that rose in his chest whenever he so much as reached for the handle of his parents' door or his own. So he would rather stick to that.
It was in the middle of his swirling, going-nowhere thoughts that he heard a strange sound coming from somewhere outside the house.
At first, he stiffened, holding his palm quire tightly, just in case it was someone looking to rob the place, or some kind of beast prowling outside. The minutes stretched on in silence, long enough that he began to think he'd imagined the whole thing, until the sound came again.
Except, now that he was able to hear it with more clarity, it didn't sound like footsteps or someone trying to break in, nor the growling sounds of animals and their teeth snapping. It sounded, if anything, like a whine of pain.
It wasn't a difficult decision for him to leave the cozy warmth of his blankets to venture outside, searching for whatever had made that sound. It might have sounded stupid, but he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep properly if whatever was out there was in dire need of help while he stayed inside, comfortable and safe, simply because he was afraid. He was more than capable of defending himself if worse came to worse, anyway. He wasn't that powerless kid anymore. Someone incapable of helping anyone.
Producing a simple flamel with a Pyreball Seal, he ventured outside, bringing his coat closer to himself, in the hopes of keeping the cold at bay.
The snow that greeted him was heavy.
The tiny snowflakes falling and piling on top of him were heavy.
It had always been heavy.
As he kept walking on, searching for whatever was making that noise, his mind drifted far, far away.
I get it, now, he thought, leaving his footsteps on the snow that were already vanishing by the minute, this is how they all froze, back then.
With a chill so profound, so endless, that no amount of fire could ever hope to melt away.
He only realized he was starting to have trouble breathing when a small form on the ground, letting out pained little noises, brought his attention back. It was so white it almost vanished in the snow.
Taking deep breaths, trying to steady himself, he walked toward whatever it was being buried in the snow, only to be greeted by a little nose the color of onyx, a fluffy white tail, and a single blue eye the color of ice. As well, of course, as a mouth of growling teeth.
Olruggio didn't know what he was expecting when he came outside, but it certainly wasn't to be greeted by the sight of a fox, of all things.
Slowly, as carefully as he could, Olruggio let go of his palm quire, letting it fall to the ground, and raised his hands, hopefully showing the animal that he had nothing with which to injure it. When his movements didn't draw any new reaction from it, he took a tentative step forward, feeling slightly out of his depth when the animal curled in on itself, baring its teeth as a clear warning, watching him warily.
Olruggio noticed, unfortunately, that there was blood tainting the snow around it. It was only a small amount, luckily, but it was enough for him to take a sharp intake of breath. If it was because he was worried about the fox or because of the memories that arose with it, he didn't know.
"Are you hurt?" he asked, as softly as he could, letting the words almost be carried away by the wind. He doubted the animal could understand him, but it made him feel less nervous as he tried to figure out how to dial with this situation.
He could retreat and call someone from the town to tend to the animal, but not only would it take a long time for anyone to arrive, he also very much doubted the fox would still be there by the time he returned.
The fox looked at him, ears flattened on its head, although it seemed to consider him a little more curiously. Or he was just trying to delude himself. Who knows.
"Hey, don't worry little guy, I just want to help you," he said, frantically trying to guess what to do. There were no spells useful for this situation and it wasn’t like he brought any food…
Wait.
Slowly, making sure the animal could see his every movement, he lowered his left hand and slipped it beneath his cloak, where he kept his bag tucked safely away. It was small in size, thanks to the reduction spell he'd cast on it earlier.
It was a miracle in itself that the fox didn't bolt as he lowered himself and carefully rummaged through the bag, searching for the piece of sandwich he knew was in there. One of his youngest neighbors had given it to him, pity in her eyes as she apologized for the way her father had treated him when he saw him coming into the town. He hadn't planned to eat it, feeling his appetite vanish every time he looked at it.
"Here," he said, tearing off a tiny piece and tossing it toward the fox. "You can have it, if you want. I don't know how long you've been out here, but you must be hungry, right?"
The fox stretched out its neck and sniffed the offered food, its single eye still fixed on him. Finally, after what felt like hours, it came forward — limping on its right leg — and took a hesitant bite.
Letting out a breath, he tore off another small piece and placed it on the snow between them, a little closer this time. The fox eyed him, then the food, before deciding the risk was worth it and creeping forward to eat again.
"You're doing great," he murmured, more to fill the silence than anything else. "Just a little more, okay?"
Throwing piece after piece of his sandwich, he drew the fox closer, offering quiet praises each time it stepped forward. In no time at all, it was near enough that Olruggio could see the individual flakes of snow clinging to its fur, and the way its ribs rose and fell with each painful breath. It was thinner than it should have been.
He couldn’t help but wonder how long it had been out there, wandering while it was hurt.
Feeling bold, he held out the last piece of sandwich in his open palm, steadying his hand as best he could. The fox stared at him with strangely intelligent eyes, and after a long moment, it leaned forward to take a bite of it.
A rough tongue scraped across his palm, warm against the biting cold. It picked up the sandwich with surprising gentleness, then retreated half a step to swallow it down.
"That's it. All gone," he said, slowly raising his other hand toward the soft white fur between its ears, giving the animal ample time to escape if it wanted to.
When he finally managed to touch it, the fox tensed immediately, every muscle going rigid beneath his fingertips. Slowly, however, as Olruggio did nothing more than let his palm rest there, the tension seemed to bleed out of the small body.
The animal was too adorable. He couldn't have stopped the smile spreading across his face even if he'd wanted to. "See? I'm not so bad."
Not feeling up to testing his luck further, Olruggio withdrew his hand and carefully examined the creature before him, which, despite still seeming very much wary, had at least stopped baring its teeth at him, opting instead to regard him with open curiosity.
"Alright, little guy. Here's what's going to happen. I'm going to pick you up." He kept his voice as low as possible. "I know you probably won't like it, but it's freezing out here, and you're hurt. I need to get you inside where it's warm so I can take a proper look at that paw of yours."
Again, he doubted the animal understood him at all, but he still took the single blink it gave him as permission to proceed with his insane plan.
Well, what was the worst that could happen, aside from him getting rabies?
Not giving either of them time to reconsider, Olruggio slid one hand beneath the fox's chest and scooped it up against him.
Obviously nervous, it began to wriggle, trying to free itself from his embrace, nothing but panicked, but he held firm, cradling it close and letting it feel the warmth of his body through his coat. "Shh, shh, it's okay. I've got you. I've got you."
Between one heartbeat and the next, it finally let itself be carried, accepting its fate.
Satisfied, he turned and began the walk back to his house, his footsteps vanishing behind him as quickly as he made them.
"You know," he said quietly, mostly to himself, "I wasn't expecting company tonight. But I think I'm glad you showed up."
The fox looked up to stare at him.
As insane as it sounded, something seemed to tell him it understood.
.
After a great deal of bribery in the form of the few scraps of meat he had stocked in his fridge, Olruggio finally managed to treat the fox's paw as best he could. Which, for a witch, wasn't saying much at all.
He could tell it was some sort of minor cut that had caused the bleeding, and he did have the basic knowledge to disinfect it and wrap it in bandages, but that was about the extent of it. He could only hope it would be enough for the animal to recover.
For a creature that had wriggled and fought with enough ferocity to leave a few scratches on his arms when he first started treating it, the fox was now contentedly asleep atop Olruggio's couch, apparently quite pleased to be bundled in the blankets he'd been using earlier.
Well, he supposed it was awfully cold out there. Even for a fox.
Olruggio stood in the middle of his living room, arms crossed, watching the slow rise and fall of the fox's chest beneath the heap of blankets, trying to make sense of the ridiculous situation he'd gotten himself into. He'd never taken care of a pet in his entire life, much less a wild animal. Naturally, he had no idea where to go from here.
He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, dislodging a few stray snowflakes that had yet to melt. Outside, the wind picked up again, rattling the windows in their frames, but inside, it was quiet.
It was strange, how different the silence felt in there.
Not feeling up to going upstairs, he moved to sit at the far end of the couch, ignoring the single intelligent blue eye staring at him.
"There's no need to look at me like that. I'll just keep working," he said, picking up the pile of papers he'd let fall to the ground in his haste to get outside, showing them to the fox — who sniffed them, then tried to take a bite. "Hey, don't bite that. It's my work, you know."
He pulled the papers back, trying to settle his erratic mind once more. Letting himself melt further into the couch, muscles easing as the warmth finally crept back in, the night wore on as he read through what he'd been working on, trying to add improvements here and there. He got so lost in thought, in fact, that he mostly forgot about his new furry companion.
That was why, when a tiny fluffy white ear appeared in his field of vision, Olruggio nearly had a heart attack.
Seemingly unaware of his turmoil, the animal looked up at him once, then rested its good paw on his thigh, as if testing if it was good enough to step into. Without any prompting, deciding his lap was acceptable, it climbed slowly into Olruggio's lap and curled itself into a ball, leaving out a contented sigh.
Feeling a little warm inside, as though he'd been chosen for some reason, he tenderly brought up a hand to stroke its back, which seemed to make the animal melt further into his embrace, even going so far as to wag its tail.
Olruggio didn’t consider himself particularly fond of animals, but enve he could admit the animal was too damn cute.
Significantly more at ease than before, Olruggio continued working, stroking its fur long after his fingers grew tired and he couldn't possibly feel his legs anymore.
.
Olruggio would like to take his words back.
The fox was not cute. In fact, it was the farthest thing from it, being, more or less, the equivalent of a rich, spoiled kid who always got everything they wanted from their parents.
"Why do you keep insisting on being handfed?" he asked, exasperated, when the fox looked from the raw chicken he was offering back up at him. "You're a wild animal, in case you forgot. You don't need me to give food to you."
The fox stared at him as if he were stupid, then looked down at the chicken again. Its tail even gave a slow, deliberate wag.
Olruggio pinched the bridge of his nose, willing away the headache he could feel forming, feeling more than seeing the single blue eye fixed on him with an expression that could only be described as expectant.
"Forget it. I'm not doing it."
When the silence stretched on too long, he dared to take a peek at the animal, immediately regretting it.
"Don't give me that look. You're perfectly capable of eating on your own. In fact, you ate the sandwich I gave you last time just fine."
Noticing he wasn't joking about this, the fox's ears dropped slightly, and its tail stopped wagging.
However, Olruggio persisted. He might not have owned any animals, but he knew they learned bad habits early on. If he somehow let the fox think it was okay to only eat when he fed it, he knew this would become a habit from now on…
Stars above, he knew, but still… It looked so crestfallen.
Olruggio might be a lot of things, but he wasn't a monster.
"…Fine," he ground out, snatching the chicken from the bowl he'd set on the floor. "Fine. But this is the last time. Do you hear me? The last time."
The fox's ears perked right back up, and it trotted closer.
In no time at all, the animal ate the chicken he offered, so quickly and trustingly that it was almost laughable to think it had once been wary of him.
Done with its food, the fox sat in front of him — carefully keeping weight off its hurt paw — before cocking its head at him, almost as if asking, what now?
He sighed and gave it a tentative pet on top of its head, which set its tail wagging fast enough that he could hear it swishing against the floor. Then he straightened up.
"I'm going to prepare lunch now. You're free to do whatever. Just be careful with your paw, alright?" Olruggio said, heading toward the sink, where he carefully assembled his Vapour Bubble, intent on cleaning his hands, before letting himself get distracted wondering what to make for dinner.
A few minutes passed, letting him start the beginnings of boiling potatoes, with no sign of his furry friend moving. That was, of course, before he felt something start crawling on him. He barely had time to shout in surprise before a snowy head popped up where his left shoulder was.
"What the hell are you doing?" he asked, looking at it — which just made it look back at him, letting out a bark? Howl? He didn't even know what kind of noise foxes made — before turning and staring at the food.
"This isn't for you," he chided softly, pointing to his own chest. "It's for me, you understand?"
It barked again. For a moment he got slightly scared at the idea of the animal jumping onto the table and promptly ruining his dinner, or even burning itself by accident. Thankfully, as he continued with the animal on his shoulder, it seemed content to just watch him cook.
When he finally finished his lunch, he decided he might as well eat standing up, letting his hips rest against the kitchen counter. At that, the fox finally crawled down from where it was before it started to bite the end of his skirt.
"Whannt d' youf want nofw?" he asked, mouth full.
It kept pushing him toward somewhere, and with a sigh, he followed, only to be surprised to see the animal leading him toward the living room table, before it ran from him and sat right behind one of the seats, clearly very proud of itself.
Truth be told, Olruggio didn't really want to go eat there, because the last time he did, his entire family had been there with him, and now… now they weren't.
However, the sight of the animal looking so content with itself couldn't possibly make him turn this down. So, with a sigh, he took one of the seats and sat down, eating quietly, if not occasionally throwing the fox a question or two, ones that, of course, the animal couldn't answer.
Olruggio would find out, soon enough, that this was only the beginning of his weak resolve crumbling to fulfill the animal's needs.
.
"Look, if you want to sleep on the couch with me, you're going to need a bath."
Olruggio explained this to the fox sitting on his lap — its rightful throne, for now — as it left tiny brownish stains from its evil little paws on his clothes. Olruggio was lucky he wore black, otherwise, his life would be over.
The fox stared at him with an expression that could only be described as deeply offended, making a sound that suggested Olruggio had just proposed the worst idea in the history of mankind.
"I know, I know," Olruggio said, already exhausted by the one-sided conversation he was having. "No offense, but you are filthy. You've got—" he gestured vaguely at the fox's paws, "—whatever that is all over you. I know you want to sleep on the couch, which I would like to remain at least somewhat presentable. I'm not staying much longer, you know."
The fox's ears perked up at that. Evidently more curious now, it turned around on his lap to sit looking at him expectantly. When he didn't say anything, it nudged his hand, as if signaling him to keep going.
Were all animals this intelligent? He doubted it.
"I've come here only for a quick visit. I don't live here."
The fox kept staring at him, which made him think about another thing he'd failed to consider when he brought the animal inside.
Who was going to take care of it when he left?
He was planning to stay maybe a day or two more, but now he felt bad leaving the animal — still recovering, at that — to fend for itself.
Olruggio could leave it with someone else in town, but he didn't know anyone he could trust, and he would rather avoid talking to them as much as possible, not feeling like dealing with their rage or their pity.
He sighed.
"Well, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. But now—" he picked up the animal by the scruff, which, to its credit, only looked at him curiously, "—a bath."
.
The bath itself was, well. Bad.
Very bad.
He knew most animals weren't fond of water, but by the stars, the fox seemed to absolutely hate it.
Olruggio filled the tub with lukewarm water and prepared a small cloth, not separating any products for him to use, just in case they got into the animal's recovering cut. He even rolled up his sleeves (a decision he would later recognize as hopelessly optimistic).
Even before he gently lowered the fox to let its paws touch the water, it immediately squirmed in his grasp, thrashed, and tried to escape, even going so far as to whine in complete despair, as if to all its ancestors to hear it.
It took him a good twenty minutes of splashing water, until he was completely soaked from head to toe, to realize that maybe this wasn't a good idea.
"Okay, okay!" Olruggio said, pulling the fox away from the tub and cradling it against his chest, heedless of the water dripping from its fur onto his already ruined shirt. "You win. No bath."
The fox trembled against him, its heart beating so fast he could feel it through its ribs. Its blue eye was wide, almost wild, and Olruggio felt a sharp pang of guilt for making the animal look so afraid.
"Hey, hey, I'm sorry," he murmured, stroking its back with a wet hand. "I didn't mean to scare you. I just—" He sighed, pressing his forehead gently against the top of the fox's head. "I’m sorry."
The fox's trembling slowly subsided, and it let out a small, shaky huff.
"Okay," Olruggio said, setting the animal down on the bathroom floor and grabbing a dry cloth, presenting it to the animal. "New plan. We're going to do this the easy way. Is that okay with you, oh your highness?"
The fox huffed, but aside from that, nothing happened, which he took as permission to go on.
He wet the cloth with clean, warm water, wringing it out until it was damp but not dripping, then knelt beside the fox and gently began wiping the grime from its fur.
It, of course, took time, because not only was the fox rather large for its size, there was a lot of fur, and therefore a lot of dirt to remove.
Eventually, however, he managed to get most of it clean. When he finished, he took a good look at the animal and—
He burst out laughing.
It looked ridiculous, with its fur plastered to its body, making it look twice as skinny as it actually was, shivering despite the warmth of the bathroom.
"Hold on," Olruggio said between wheezes, setting the cloth aside. "I've got an idea."
Quickly, he went back to the living room — ignoring the droplets of water he was leaving on the floor, letting the mess for future Olruggio to worry about — and came back with his palm quire in hand. He sat down in front of the fox again, flipped to a specific page where he knew the Pyreball Spell was drawn, and began to twinkle with it for a little while, modifying it just slightly to make it a steady stream of warm air instead of a little flame.
He closed the circle and directed it at the fox, who had only been watching him curiously until now. After a few seconds, the fox's fur puffed up like a dandelion, every strand standing on end. Its blue eye blinked at him from somewhere in the middle of all that fluff, and Olruggio looked at it fondly.
"There you go," he said, setting the spell aside and reaching out to pet it. "Who knew your fur could be this white? You look gorgeous."
The fox quite obviously preened at the compliment — if foxes could even do that — all but melting into his touch as Olruggio ran his fingers through its fur, smoothing it down bit by bit. It was impossibly soft now, clean and warm and fluffy, and Olruggio found himself smiling like an idiot as he adjusted it slightly.
"Okay," he said, scooping the fox up, fully intending to carry it toward the living room to properly give it a new set of bandages, and maybe clean the bathroom and the floor later.
All was good, except—
He looked down to find a droplet of blood falling from his arm, landing with a clear thud on the floor, staining it red.
Oh, he thought distantly, as he let his gaze travel down his arm, to see two little puncture marks growing an angry purple on his forearm, where the blood was making a line down until it dropped. It seems the fox bit me.
Against his wishes, the room started to tilt.
With a shuddering breath and with his legs now betraying him, he did his best to set the fox down on the couch before catching himself on the edge of it, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps, and—
There was blood on his hands. Not his. Someone else's.
There was blood and his hands were red and there was blood, so much blood. Blood he couldn't possibly wash away—
No. No, no, no—
"Olruggio, my little star, are you alright?"
It had been a while since he last heard his mother's voice, because—
That voice was gone.
—dead—
He couldn't breathe.
The world was spinning, narrowing, collapsing in on itself, and he couldn't breathe.
He couldn't breathe he couldn't breathe he couldn't breathe just like—
—he was impossibly tiny again, back in the snow with blood on his hands and the screaming and oh there was so much screaming—
He couldn't breathe, and the snow kept falling and falling and falling and falling—
Olruggio felt, distantly, as if he were under water, something pressing on his leg. A small paw, if he were to guess. He took a deep gulp of air, and although it didn't help much, it was enough.
"I'm—" Olruggio gasped, "I'm fine. I'm fine, I just—"
He took another shuddering breath, closing his eyes as if that could wipe the memories from his mind. He couldn't, of course. His mother died screaming and his father was frozen in the ground, and nothing he could do will ever fix that.
"Olly!"
Chest still heaving, he felt hands touching his face, cupping his cheeks and tilting his head up, until he was face to face with a singular, familiar, ice-blue eye.
His immediate panic was momentarily forgotten so he could panic about a stranger inside his house. Growing more desperate by minute, Olruggio let his eyes drift up, past a fluffy cascade of long white hair and—
Ears.
There were ears twitching on top of the stranger's head, most likely keen enough to detect his heavy breathing.
Blinking, trying to understand just what in the world was going on, he felt the touch of something extremely fluffy against his knees. Distracted, he looked down to see a tail, its tips black.
Alright, maybe I died, he thought to himself. Not that he imagined this would be what waited for him in the afterlife. He thought it would be maybe angels? Nothing? He didn't know.
"Um," he started, not really knowing what to say. What did one ask when a stranger with ears and a tail entered your house while you were in the middle of a panic attack?
"Are you alright, Olly?" The stranger asked, voice filled with nothing but concern, his hands still tenderly holding his face as if he were made of glass. The words came out slightly raspy and somehow paused, as if he wasn't used to speaking.
"Um," he repeated, still very much confused.
"Can you sit?" The stranger's hands left his face, taking him by the elbow, guiding him to the couch and pressing gently on his shoulder for him to sit.
Olruggio's eyes didn't leave him as the man came up and sat right beside him, still looking at him with the most concern anyone had ever directed at him… ever.
"You seem to still have some trouble breathing. Here, let me—" The stranger picked up his right hand and brought it to his own chest. "Follow my heartbeat, alright? And breathe with me."
What the fuck is going on, he thought, trying to calm down and follow the stranger's instructions, hoping against hope that the man didn't have any ill intent. Surely it would be easier to kill him or rob him if he was heaving a lung on the floor.
A few minutes passed before the man took Olruggio's hands from his chest, only to lower them and hold them gently in both of his own hands.
"Are you alright now? You seem to have calmed down."
"Yes, I am. Uh, thank you?" He said, sounding more like a question. "Look, this might be rude, but… who the hell are you?"
The stranger's brows lifted, until his expression could only be described as amused.
"What do you mean? I'm the fox you rescued."
"I—what?"
A million things passed through his mind, and before he knew it, he was panicking again, but for an entirely different reason. He harshly brought his hand back.
Stars above, he thought, looking at the man with nothing but horror in his eyes. I'm going to be arrested.
Everyone knew that hybrids were protected by law, considering how few of them were out there and how many suffered at the hands of outsiders and witches alike. Bringing one inside his home, without any consent from it… Stars help him, he must have violated so many hybrid rights laws.
Not only had he brought him inside his house, but he'd handfed him, slept with him, hugged him, and, perhaps worse of all, tried to give him a bath.
The list went on and on.
He could rot in prison for the rest of his life for this.
Unaware of the inner turmoil inside him, or perhaps simply not caring, the hybrid picked up Olruggio’s hand again, letting it fall on top of his tail.
Olruggio was at a loss for words.
"Does this help you? You seemed to calm down when you pet me before." The man asked, tilting his head in the same way he had many times in his fox form, as if the world would make more sense from another angle.
Needless to say, Olruggio was horrified. Aghast. Appalled. Shocked. All the words that could mean: what the fuck did I do.
He took his hand back again, ignoring the way the man's ears dropped, and looked at him with the most apologetic face he could muster.
"I'm so, so sorry," he started, panicking because what could he even say to entrapping the man? Carrying him around? Treating him as a pet? Stars, he was pretty sure he'd even sang around him. He wanted to die. "I know this isn't an excuse, but I swear on my life I wasn't aware you are a hybrid. If I'd known, I would never have done any of this. I know this isn't going to make anything better, but I'm sorry. I truly am."
For good measure, he bowed, head so low he was almost touching the couch with his forehead "Please, forgive me."
He didn't know how many seconds he spent like that — in his head it felt like years, to be honest. Thinking you were going to jail did that to you — but he only gathered the courage to lift his head when he heard the sound of what could only be explained as a laugh.
Olruggio looked up, mouth open, to see the man trying to cover his laughter with his fist, attempting to pass it off as a cough.
"It's quite alright, Olly. I know you had no idea what I am. Rather…" The man looked at him softly, with a smile on his face, before bowing as well, "I should be thanking you for helping me and treating my injuries. That was really kind of you."
"Please, there's no need for that. Lift your head," he said, mortified. "Can I assume you aren't going to arrest me, then?"
"Arrest you?" The man asked, surprised, lifting his head so quickly Olruggio barely had time to prepare himself to be the center of attention of that eye again.
"Yeah, for, uh," petting you, treating you like a pet, entrapping you. Stars, the list went on. He put a hand behind his neck, ashamed of himself. "Treating you like that."
"Oh! That's okay, I didn’t mind it. In fact," the man averted his eye, cheeks dusted now with a soft pink, "I quite liked it."
"I—" Olruggio's mouth opened, then closed, then opened again, resembling a fish gasping for air. "You liked it?"
The man's cheeks got redder, somehow, before he nodded in confirmation.
"It had been a while since I've had company. Warm company, at that. It was really nice."
"I—thank you?" he said, not really knowing if it was meant to be a compliment or not.
"You're welcome," the man answered, pleased with himself. "I wasn't planning on showing myself so early, but I suppose this simplifies things. There is something I want to ask of you."
Olruggio blinked, trying his best to follow.
"Of course, you can ask me anything."
"Well," the man started to fiddle with his hands, seemingly nervous about something. "You mentioned you are going to leave earlier, right?"
"Yes?"
"I hope this isn't too forward of me, but I—I want to ask if you are amenable to the idea of keeping me."
For the second time that day, Olruggio's mind went blank. For a long moment, he thought he was going to faint.
"Keep you? As in…" he trailed off, not really wanting to finish.
"A companion. A familiar, if you will. I hear some witches have one of those. Am I mistaken?"
"No, but…"
There are witches who have familiars, yes, but they are rather rare. In any case, none of them are hybrids. You know, a person.
"I mean, there are witches like that, yeah. But… may I ask why you want to, uh, work with me?"
"Well, there are a few reasons for that! For one, I've grown sick of this place. I don't mean to offend your home, or anything like that, but it grows quite boring staying here, after a while. I've always wanted to travel to other places." The man explained, a smile on his lips, tail now curled primly around his own lap. "The other reason is that I might have grown fond of you. I've never met a human as interesting and as gentle before."
Olruggio stared at him, utterly dumbfounded. His brain, which had already been through quite enough for one evening, seemed to decide to leave. On a good day, he was bad at receiving compliments; this, however, far exceeded what he was able to deal with.
"You've grown fond of me," he repeated flatly. "I tried to give you chicken yesterday and you bit me."
The fox hybrid had the decency to look slightly abashed at that, his ears dropping just a little. It was, Olruggio noted distantly, unfairly endearing.
"I am sorry about that," he said, not sounding apologetic at all. "The iron in your blood, it—" He made a vague gesture with his hands. "It smells amazing. I'm surprised no other hybrid has tried to jump you. Either way, I didn't mean to hurt you."
There were a lot of things to process in that statement. A lot that he didn’t really know what to do with.
"You know what? It's fine." He said, genuinely not caring. "However, we should talk about it later, yeah? It's… a lot to process."
"Oh! Absolutely!" The man agreed easily, ears perking up and tail wagging so fast he could barely see it. "Should I help you treat that?"
The hybrid pointed at his arm, which was still dripping blood. On the couch, no less, he noticed with a grimace.
"I guess? If you don't mind. I’m not really fond of blood."
"Of course I don't!"
In retrospect, Olruggio wouldn't have offered it if he'd known what would happen.
In one minute the man was in front of him, and in the next, he was already too close to be comfortable, picking up his arm and looking at it with genuine interest. Somehow, Olruggio found himself pinned against the cushions with a warm, rough tongue dragging across the wound on his arm.
"Wh—hey!"
Olruggio's face went scarlet. He brought his free hand up, pressing against the hybrid's face, trying to push it away. Needless to say, he was only human — as in, way weaker than any hybrid, really. The man didn't move an inch.
"What are you doing?" he demanded, voice cracking embarrassingly on the last word.
The hybrid paused, tongue still half-out, and looked up at him. "My saliva helps cuts heal faster. I think it's more useful than simply wrapping your arm with bandages."
The information slotted into his brain like a piece of a puzzle falling into place.
"If that's true…" Olruggio started, still trying to push the man's face away, fingers splayed against the hybrid's cheek and forehead. Unfortunately, the man simply leaned into the pressure like a cat being pet. "Why didn’t you use that on yourself?!"
The hybrid's ears flicked. "I did."
"You did?"
"Yes! However, as I mentioned before, I quite like being around you. So I didn’t see a reason to leave."
"Surely you’re joking," he said, staring at him, before resigning himself to his fate. "You're not joking."
"I'm most definitely not!" The man said, before going back to his work.
Olruggio closed his eyes, trying to ignore the feeling of having a tongue on his arm. Needless to say, it was one of the hardest tasks he'd ever had to handle.
The tongue was rougher than he expected, like a cat's, but warmer. It dragged across his skin in slow, methodical strokes, and Olruggio could do nothing except to open his eyes and stare at whatever items were scattered around his living room, hoping time would pass quickly.
"What's your name?" Olruggio blurted out, desperate for any distraction from the feeling of that tongue on his skin. "Never mind that. Do you even have a name?"
The hybrid paused again, looking up. His ears perked forward, curious. "Qifrey," he said finally. "My name is Qifrey."
"Qifrey," Olruggio repeated, testing the word on his tongue.
Qifrey's tail seemed to wag against his wishes, if the blush on the man's face was anything to go by. The hybrid ducked his head, looking almost shy, and resumed his work with renewed enthusiasm.
"Nice to meet you," he said, voice carefully flat. "Qifrey."
Qifrey's tail wagged harder, a blur of white behind him.
.
In any other situation, he would have said Alaira was being dramatic. This time, however, he couldn't fault her for dropping the wine bottle she'd brought, letting it shatter on the floor of his room in the Grand Hall.
"Just what did I miss in the last week for you to come back with a man with fox ears and a fox tail?!"
He sighed, letting go of the tail on top of his lap that he'd been brushing.
"His name is Qifrey."
She gave him a look as if he'd somehow kidnapped Qifrey and brought him here against his will, even though it was much more the other way around.
He didn't know how it had happened. One moment he was clearly telling Qifrey that no, he couldn't be his familiar because he was a person, and the next, he was sleeping next to him back in his room.
Funny how life worked.
"He wants to be here, just so you know," he clarified, not wanting to be seen as a scoundrel in Alaira's eyes.
"Did you, now?" Alaira echoed back to Qifrey.
A younger Olruggio would have found it rude how she just brushed him off. But considering he was here, with a hybrid practically on his lap, he considered it a fair reaction. Stars knew he would do much worse if it were the other way around.
Qifrey inclined his head, ears swiveling forward with polite interest. "I did," he confirmed, his voice smooth. He was growing better and better at speaking. "I asked him to keep me, but he refused. In fact, he is still very stubborn about it."
Alaira's eyebrows climbed toward her hairline. She looked at Olruggio, then back at Qifrey, then back at Olruggio again. "Then what are you doing here?"
"I came anyway," he smiled at her, offering his hand. "You must be Alaira, right? It's a pleasure to meet you."
She took his hand, shaking it with a bemused expression. "Likewise. I think. I'm still trying to figure out if I should be congratulating him or not."
"Congratulations seems appropriate," Qifrey said cheerfully.
"There's nothing to congratulate," Olruggio grumbled, resuming his brushing of Qifrey's tail, mostly because it gave his hands something to do. "He's not my familiar. I didn't agree to that."
When he saw Qifrey's ears drop, he quickly added, "As I mentioned, we can work together, but you can't be my familiar because you don't belong to me. You belong to yourself. Stars above, have some dignity."
Qifrey was quiet for a moment. Then, very softly, he said, "What if I want to belong to you?"
The question caught him so off guard that for a moment he thought he'd imagined it. But the utter silence in the room proved otherwise. His hands stilled where they'd been working on Qifrey's tail.
Alaira let out a low whistle. "Wow. I've never seen Olruggio this embarrassed before. Not even that time you had to wear those ridiculous puffy sleeves to the ballroom dance. Remember? You looked like a cake gone wrong."
Qifrey's tail gave a satisfied little wag where it lay across Olruggio's lap.
"I know, right?" Qifrey smiled, slow and pleased, watching the color crawl across Olruggio's face. "It's really fun to make him squirm. It's becoming something of a hobby."
The traitor he called a friend laughed, dropping into the chair across from them. "Oh, I like him. Olruggio, you’re absolutely keeping him."
"I'm not keeping anyone anywhere."
Needless to say, Olruggio kept him.