Mararky



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    Olruggio didn’t think Qifrey liked physical touch at all, but now that the curse is gone, the white-haired man immediately decides that Olruggio’s personal space is his personal property and he will be burrowing into Olruggio's ribcage, thank you very much.

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    11 Jul 2026

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    Qifrey knew of the risks with this procedure. But if, in exchange for his sight, he were to get his future back?

    The choice has never been more easy to make.
    ~~~
    Aka, a post-canon au in which Qifrey becomes fully blind

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    09 Jul 2026

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    Olruggio has always been kind.

    He is intelligent. Perceptive. Infuriatingly good at dancing.

    Beautiful, charismatic, endlessly patient.

    Olruggio is perfect.

    Unfortunately, Qifrey is not the only one who has noticed.

    ________________________

    Or when Qifrey had long accepted one simple truth: Olruggio was dangerously easy to love.
    Which would have been manageable… if everyone else in the world had not apparently come to the exact same conclusion.

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    01 Jul 2026

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    “He’s not here,” Coco blurts while Tetia nods along frantically behind her. “He went out ages ago and didn’t come back for dinner and we’re getting worried—“

    “It’s Qifrey,” Olruggio snorts. “He probably got distracted by a passing—“

    A clap of thunder sounds outside, illuminating the bridge with a burst of light, and Olruggio stops. His eyes flash to the window, as if he’s only just noticed the storm, and he goes very still. Then he rounds on them and demands, “How long has it been raining?”

    It's storming outside, and Qifrey hasn't come home.

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    23 Jun 2026

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    “You know,” Olruggio says, roughly. He doesn’t move to take Qifrey’s hand again. “You know. You can’t not know, Qifrey.”

    Qifrey just looks at him. “I do.”

    The rain continues falling.

    (And so Olruggio forgets. And he inevitably figures it out again, because of course he does; and he inevitably chooses to forget again, and again, and again, because his heart is always the same. The story is always the same. Like a tale from under a silverwood tree, like a myth from the days of old, not so much tied by the constraints of the narrative so much as being narrative itself. Antigone must bury her brother. Iphigenia must be put to death. At a thousand turns, in a thousand ways, Orpheus must turn, and he must look, again, and again.

    And Olruggio forgets.)

    There is an old story about a witch and a silverwood tree.

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    18 Jun 2026