The holidays are looking up this year

[bitterguardian]

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.

Comments

[dusk_to_night]

"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.

[bitterguardian]

"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.