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  1. Public Bookmark 66

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    There it was, that thing Qifrey did, where he offered a piece of himself wrapped in observation about someone else, like a gift hidden inside a gift, and you had to decide whether to unwrap the second layer or pretend you had only received the first. Olruggio had spent half his life learning to read these offerings and in doing so he had become the foremost scholar of a language spoken by exactly one person in all the world.

    "I'm stubborn because someone has to be," he said. "You'd float away on your own mysteries if no one kept you tethered."

    "Perhaps." The maddingly sad smile again. "Perhaps that's so."

    In which Olruggio brings tea to Qifrey's study on a damp evening and finds him working in the dark again, the staff out and the fire dying.

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    06 Jun 2026

  2. Public Bookmark 29

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    Trudging home after the sun rises again.

    -

    Or: Batesian mimicry & Kirbyan mimicry; sons & fathers; the person you love & the person who loves you.

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    04 Jun 2026

  3. Public Bookmark *

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    His fright at the thought that Coco might have been in danger when he woke up was heart-stopping. The feeling he had when he thought he’d forgotten one of the simplest spells in his collection was….something else. Like a vice around his throat. A garotte of terror.

    Olruggio can't claim to be the picture of perfect health and wellbeing, but things are getting strange. He's forgetting stuff - stuff that he really shouldn't be forgetting. And he doesn't know why.

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    03 Jun 2026

  4. Public Bookmark *

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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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    03 Jun 2026

  5. Public Bookmark 19

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    Who had decided to be so cruel as to offer him this—an imitation of the body he should have had, only for it to be fleeting? To rip it from his hands in the same breath?

    (Qifrey thinks it must be some type of retribution. To be given something only for it to be taken away is a cruelty he knows well enough to inflict; a hat and a glyph, a glyph and a hat.)

    Qifrey does not expect his rut to return so soon, rare as it is.

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    02 Jun 2026