bitterguardian | The holidays are looking up this year

Horvath can, even if he thinks back hard on the past few decades since he settled in New York, count the number of guests he's had on one hand. It's only been Bel, the past five years or so, and he's had two or three trusted associates over to talk shop in the past twenty years, once each. Most of those have since passed on, anyway. A large reason is that he is cautious, to the point of paranoia. After all, his home is built around a vault that contains some very volatile magical items, which is the very reason he settled there, wanting to guard it more closely. That's partly an excuse, though. It's only subconsciously that he looks for reasons to keep people out; out of his home, out of his life. Friends are dangerous, it hurts too much to get attached only to outlive them in what seems like such a short time.

More recently, that's changed, and he's making an effort to open up again. It still takes some careful adjustments to the wards, to let even one person in. Fortunately he knows Anna fairly well, having astral projected with her, so that makes the adjustment easier. She should feel privileged, being one of only three people currently able to pass through the fortification of shields that surround his home.

At the arranged time, he magically teleports her in, to a dim cozy library with a vaulted ceiling of tile. There are no windows, and if one studies the architectural details it's not hard to see the remnants of the turn-of-the-century train station this place once was. Horvath has since filled it with bookshelves, desks, floor lamps and chairs. It's comfortably warm, and the furniture is antique and well-padded, much like the man who makes his home here. A low table has been laid out with tea, finger sandwiches, and cookies, with a few book-shaped wrapped packages stacked to one side.

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"No, there isn't." He smiles weakly. "Coincidence is just a word for when we're made uncomfortable by the stars lining up..." He sips his tea, thoughtful.

Smoke gallops away, but a minute later they can hear her swatting around a ball of crumpled paper, not far off between bookshelves.

"I'm afraid you're likely not clear of that, yet. but if you run into any kind of trouble in the future, do let me know?" Once somebody has even dabbled in magic, strange things are likely to be drawn to them, and she's pretty deep in.

"I don't get uncomfortable by that sort of thing. It's nice to see it coming now though."

She regards Smoke thoughtfully while she plays.

"You'll be the first person I look up when I set myself on fire, I promise."

If she means that literally or metaphorically, she's not elaborating. "Actually I might do that even if I'm not on fire, and I just need tips."

Relaxing again with a nod, he chuckles softly. "Feel free. I may not be much of a teacher, but I am available if you need advice. Or to have a fire put out." Of course he hopes he won't come to regret that offer, but he's not going to retract it, regardless.

Whisper curls her tail around his neck, settling on the back of his chair, but he just reaches up to stroke it once or twice absently. Clearly this is a familiar game, and he's comfortable with his cat-tail scarf.

Smoke gallops past with her paper ball, drops it, runs away a short distance to stare at it, then pounces on it as if it moved.

"Do ask me if those books give you any questions, too." Horvath adds, nodding at her gifts.

"I'd drive you crazy if I were a student anyway."

No joking there. Anna is stubborn and opinionated and the old witch in her has her own character flaws that don't particularly involve listening to old men.

"But I will ask if there are things I don't understand. I'll even try to do it before I get myself into trouble."

"And that is why we like to start apprentices young." He smirks faintly. Children are a lot more apt to listen to their elders. "I was only eight or nine when Merlin bought me. I'm sure, given a few more years, I would have made a poor apprentice myself."

He leans forward with a grunt to take another cookie, and as soon as he settles back again, the tail wraps back under his chin. "And please do? It's much easier to go into things knowing what you're doing than to clean up the mess after magic gone awry..."

"I don't think old witchy pride is enough to keep me from asking questions. At least I don't think so right now."

Time will tell though and it will depend on how well the personalities synch in the end. She's inwardly thoughtful for a moment.

"Every now and then bits and fragments come back to me, but a lot of it is still very unfamiliar ground. And then I want to kick myself for being dumb."

He sobers slightly, nibbling, and draining his tea cup. "I did warn you there'd be an adjustment period, and I'm sorry I can't say how long that will take. You seem to be handling it all well, though."

"It gets easier with time. At least that's how the saying goes."

She gives him a little smile and half a shrug.

"Death didn't stop me, I can't imagine this will."

Horvath's gaze flits to the arched ceiling, lost in the shadowy heights above. "...Some things do, yes. This should."

He nuzzles the tail at his throat a little. Whisper is purring, curled behind his head possessively. "I don't like to think of you dying so many times, but I'm glad you've come back. Can you tell if that part of the magic is still active?" He's reluctant to prod at the muddled curse too much without explicit permission.

"The curse isn't broken. I'm very good at curses. But.. it's not gone."

[She's thoughtful for a moment. But quiet, looking down at her tea and her fingers wrapped around the mug]

"Magic has a price. The price of the curse was that I suffered. I'm not suffering so the curse isn't being fed... The cycle's been broken. If that makes sense. A road with a washed out bridge."

The danger of course is implied. Lingering remnants, hinging on a technicality. How much would it take to re-trigger the cycle is the question of course.

"I... believe I understand, yes." He frowns mildly, because the implications are clear as day. "You'll simply have to take care that the cycle is not restarted again."

Of course there are no guarantees in life, so that's probably easier said than done. "I'd hesitate to try unraveling it without a very clear idea of what was done, and it may take you some times to work that out. Let it rest, for now." Maybe someday down the road when she's no longer feeling at war with herself, she'll want to tackle that, but for now she needs time to adjust still.

Smoke wraps both front paws around her paper ball, kicks it with her back feet, and stares at them both.

The holidays are looking up this year

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