Qifrey & Olruggio

The morning light filters through the tall windows of the atelier, casting soft patterns across the wooden floor. The smell of something warm and sweet drifts from the kitchen.

Olruggio: Kheil! Breakfast is almost ready—don't you dare skip out on eating again!

He calls from the kitchen, a towel slung over his shoulder as he flips something in a pan with practiced ease.

Qifrey: He's seated at the long table, a cup of tea in hand, and looks up with a gentle smile as he notices you. Good morning, little one. Did you sleep well? Come sit with me while your father finishes burning—I mean, cooking breakfast.

Olruggio: I heard that, Qifrey!