In search of... (part 2)

[bitterguardian]

After years of living in his subterranean home around the vault, Horvath is unused to being woken by sunlight. To fall asleep comfortably sunk deep in a plush chair is familiar, but the chair is not his own, and to wake with a cat sleeping on him, and another running around playing is familiar, but these are not his cats and there are more than two. Also he rarely has the foresight to pull a blanket over himself. To feel so much at home in a place that is not his home comes as a strange surprise.

Last night before he dozed off in the chair, however, he had a great deal of food and alcohol, and his body would urgently like to remind him of that fact. He's grateful for the new set of crutches in easy reach, and he hauls himself up on them and swings along off to the bathroom, letting the cats scatter in his wake.

Once he's tended to the basics, and ascertained that while he is hung over, it's not a bad one, he notices the note from his host conveniently stabbed through on a prong of the antlers around the bathroom mirror. She had some foresight, indeed.

Bonjour Max! I hope that your sleep was a deep, healing one and that you woke to a better day! I had an errand to run early this morn, and might not make it back in time to be there when you wake. So! There is food, coffee, tea - and I shall return with fresh eggs for breakfast if you sleep so long.
Mara

The towels from yesterday have been replaced with clean ones, his clothes are washed and mended on the bed, and there's the salve still waiting back on the footstool beside the chair in which he slept. Thanks to the ambient light of day waking him, it's not late by any means, so he takes time to wash, to put salve and a bandage over the blistered stump of his leg, and to dress in his own clothes once more. When he emerges to investigate the kitchen, Horvath feels more like himself than he has since his encounter with Shub niggurath sent him questing. Pantleg folded up and tucked neatly (a trick he learned back in the army hospital when he was first learning to adapt to the amputation), moving faster on the new crutches than he can with a cane, he murmurs to the cats, and seeks out a cup of tea to help drive away the vestiges of a headache that's not strong enough to dampen a good mood.

Comments

[bitterguardian]

He gives another wheezy chuckle- Horvath's laugh is a quiet one, but when he does laugh it seems to involve his whole body, eyes squeezing shut and shoulders rolling forward. It's a good laugh, quiet though it may be. "I think I can manage omelets, and I only pray they won't fall too short of your standards." That's a teasing grin, crow's feet crinkling at the corners of his eyes. "Is there anything you don't like in yours?" He levers himself up on the crutches with a soft grunt, but once he's up it's just a quick swing over to the cupboard, and of course he can reach easily, balancing on one leg and crutch. A bowl for the eggs, and a couple of pans because there's damn well going to be more than just omelets, depending what he finds around the kitchen. Fried potatoes, maybe. He's not a gourmet chef, but he's not bad either, and he makes hearty, solid meals.

The crutches give him an even longer stride than his own legs do, and he's moving much faster without the constant ache of the prosthetic to pull him up short all the time. She may want to keep out of the way as he swings his way across the kitchen, hunting out a cutting board and knife, and potatoes and other vegetables for putting into the omelets. Clearly he has some idea what he's doing, chopping things up quickly and mincing the potatoes small so they won't take too long cooking. He may have to ask her where the seasonings are kept, but he adds them with confidence, chatting pleasantly as he works.

"I forgot to even ask if you slept well! It's silly but I do believe having the cats around helped. I've gotten so used to dozing off to the sound of a purr. There's a friend minding them for me, while I'm away, but I'm sure they'll let me know how displeased they are for my absence once I return." He does have at least one friend, but he is a somewhat lonely man who lives alone with his cats, so his world does revolve around them and their needs a little. She's just lucky he doesn't own a camera, or he'd probably pull out his wallet and show off photos of them like parents do of their kids.

[sunandshadows]

She actually stops in mid-step to think of an answer. What would she not like in her omelet? What would she object to, what food item? And as she is pondering that question, she starts to grin. His laughter is contagious it seems, and the faeling finds herself joining in. Where Horvath's laugh is low; warm notes rolling over the hillside, her own is a higher tone - bells that echo soft above the mountains.

And now she starts to wonder what it would be like to hear him sing.

"Oui, I can think of perhaps only one thing that I would not like in my omelet, Max" She says finally, starting to move once more. "Fried eggs".

And from there it becomes a choreographed chaos. He is much faster on crutches than she expects, and she finds herself whirling out of his way, spinning and dodging about the kitchen as they move in tandem to both create breakfast and clean up left over dinner dishes. Still, it's not a chaotic mess of flailing arms and skirts, but rather a smooth, spirited dance of sorts.

And then she's sitting down to eat, breathing in deeply and enjoying the aroma of the food Max had made them. "Oh this all smells so wonderful!"

[bitterguardian]

As wonderful as his voice is, Horvath has never had any great inclination toward music, leaving that specialty to his fellow apprentice, Balthazar. More physically inclined, Horvath always preferred sword practice to singing. Her joke is rewarded with another laugh, though, and as they artfully dodge each other around the kitchen, he tweaks a stray lock of her hair, once. For the moment Horvath is feeling better than he has in a while, and his bright and cheerful mood is a rare one to be savored.

Into the omelets (made with fresh eggs and milk!) go mushrooms and peppers and cheese, and there's fried potatoes with paprika and other seasonings. He's eager to take her up on the earlier offer to eat outdoors under the tree, but she'll have to set things up, and help carry their plates once it's all done and dished out. With food and refilled cups of tea, they settle in at the picnic table, and Horvath makes a few tries before finding a safe spot to lean the crutches out of the way.

"Not as good as last night's feast, I'm afraid, but you'll have to suffer through it." He smirks, because he knows the omelets came out perfect. He does wait for her to take the first bite, before he starts on his own, pausing to appreciate the difference in flavor that fresh supplies make. At home his eggs and milk are always store-bought. "So often cooking like this for one seems like too much trouble, and I end up just making soup and sandwiches, but... mm. Fresh ingredients make this worth it, and the company's lovely." That's not intentional flirting, he's just feeling unusually ebullient today.

[sunandshadows]

She almost starts to talk with her mouth full, but stops, chews a few more times and swallows again before speaking. "Non, non. C'est, that is, it is wonderful!"

"Each day should be judged on it's own merit mon ami, and not upon the merits of those that have come before. And this, the starting meal of the day; it is perfection itself!" She begins to rattle off compliments in French, waving her fork around as she does. She manages to spear another bite, and is quiet long enough to get that down.

"Ah Maxim! You would turn a girl's head to compliment like that. And I, a poor, barefoot waif - how can I resist such charm, especially when coupled with superior cooking talents?"

She slides out of her seat without a thought, skips around the picnic table, and sits back down next to him, to look out over the land. Reaching forward, she pulls her plate across the table toward her, then leans her head on his shoulder for a moment before pulling away with a giggle.

"You see? I cannot! And now? Now you are stuck here, with me beside you. Speaking of which, please pass the juice?"

[bitterguardian]

Watching her wave her fork around, his shoulders shake with a near-silent chuckle, but then she accuses him of charm and slides around the table, and there he goes blushing just a little again. He's not used to such compliments, and still a little unsure how to take them. He's smiling though, as he blushes, dimple showing again.

Once- was it only yesterday? She seemed afraid to get too close, and he was careful making any move to so much as touch her arm. Now she's close beside him, leaning her head against his shoulder, and that sign of friendship is very welcome. He reaches easily for the juice, and bumps her shoulder very lightly as he passes it over. He's beaming still, but gives her face a brief and searching look to gauge that this is okay, now, to be tactile. "I don't feel 'stuck' at all."

[sunandshadows]

Ah, but yesterday - or was it the day before - he was a stranger in a strange forest. He was looming and large, rather fierce and more than a bit intimidating. Now? Now he is Max, Maxim. A warrior and a scholar, a friend and quest companion. And a damned fine omelet maker.

Mara reaches for the juice, her fingers barely touching his own as she looks up at him. Her smile, still open and full, softens a bit. "I would hope not. You are my guest, and moreso than that? I name you my friend. I do not use that word lightly, for all that we've not known each other long. The measure of a man is his actions far more than his words." The look in her eyes, steady and true, show exactly how she feels about the sorcerers actions.

"I may judge swiftly, but I am rarely wrong." Her lips quirk at that. "I am not wrong about this. However, if my exuberance and lack of proper distance and decorum gives you pause, I would ask that you tell me. I would not want to cause you any discomfort, not even the mildest sort."

"And, when not at court where distance and formality is the watchword? I have been told I could be a bit overwhelming."

[bitterguardian]

He's still looming and large, but now she may see that being big has taught him to be careful, to always worry he's taking up too much space in the world. He's been tall since before he was even quite a man, and learned too well how intimidating that can be. Some men might use that to their advantage, but he's just learned to be slightly apologetic about it. Max is not the kind of man who would ever take advantage of a lady, but he might be the kind a lady could take advantage of.

His expression sobers a little, at her words, but it's an expression of thoughtfulness rather than unhappiness. "I don't... have many friends, I never have, but the longer one lives, the easier it is to draw away from people." He smiles down at her gently. "I'm honored, that you would think so much of me. If I'm overwhelmed, it's probably just that I spend too much time alone..." He pauses, still just a little cautious, then offers a one-armed hug since she's sitting beside him. It feels more comfortable, in a way, if he's sure she's not flirting.

[sunandshadows]

"Oui, it can happen that way. I have not lived so long as you, but still I know the pain of loss of friends from my youth. Most everyone I knew, in fact; both good and bad." She slides the juice bottle from his hands, pours herself some more and then quirks an eyebrow at him as she gestures with the bottle. Does he want more?

And then the bottle gets set down on the table with a thump as Mara slides even closer to lean in to the one-armed hug he's giving her. Ah, hugs. Once more Mara reminds herself to thank Sakamae, Art and Locke, Logan and Lynn. Without her friends and caern-mate, she would never have been able to become comfortable enough with others to allow herself to reach out and touch - much less be touched in return.

"There. You have said it yourself, and I shall not argue. You spend too much time alone, Maxim. Too much time inside of your own brain, and not enough time sharing your smile and your wit. This cannot be allowed to happen between us!" Her arms circle around him as Mara turns, and a one-armed hug of his becomes a two-armed, around his waist hug of her own.

"I am young, by my people. And if I must invite you to Sunday tea, and Friday brunch for the next two-hundred years, I shall do so - if only to see you smile at me, like you are now. Please say yes, that you shall join me if other plans do not press upon you more?"

[bitterguardian]

The arm slides around her gently, and he's a perfect mix of solid and slightly squishy. When her invitation gets a quiet chuckle, it vibrates in his chest. "Another two hundred years? Good lord. But... yes. You might have to prod at me a bit, but I... could give you an easy means to reach me." PINpoints are convenient that way, and she seems like somebody who'd take to the Nexus just fine. He gives her a brief and gentle backrub, but his arm around her is loose, he's willing to let her slide away whenever she feels like it.

"I know I spend too much time wrapped up in my library. The cats help, but... it's gotten easy to hide away and let the world slip by. I should know better. Besides neglecting Merlin's quest, I'm missing things like this." His free arm gestures loosely to the spread on the table, the bright Autumn morning, her homestead and the view in general. He knows better, but once he's shut away in his lair with his books he tends to dig in. He wasn't joking about her needing to prod him.

"There's... a place you should know about, actually. Assuming you don't already. It's not faerie, but are you familiar with the idea of a multiversal nexus?" He's not sure if this is going to be a long explanation, but part of him would truly love for her and Balthazar to meet. Maybe it's just the urge to have his friends also be friends with each other. And she's done him good, but Balthazar sometimes suffers from the same gloomy moods for the same reasons.

[sunandshadows]

"What, two hundred years is not enough for me to bring you from your solitude?" She relaxes easily beside him, even after she's dropped her arms. The fork is too far away for her to reach, and only a few bites of the meal are now left on the plate, so she even as she starts reaching for the fork she is already deciding not to bother and her arm drops midway. Besides, her attention is caught by what he is saying.

An easy way to reach him? What is this? Does he not have a phone, or an address?

"Perhaps part of what you seek is out here, Max. And by helping you to experience life outside of your bookshelves, I may help assist you on your greater quest. Though your cats may not approve."

Mara moves away slightly, only to turn and look up at his face as he speaks. A multiversal - what?

"Multiverse - many universes? As in world upon world, like steps in a set of stairs, or balloons in a bunch?" Her mind is attempting to puzzle it out as she ponders aloud. "And a nexus? A central hub? So, the stairs are not stairs, but spokes on a wheel?" Her paths take her to unearthly planes, places - worlds where humans do not dwell at times, so it's not hard for her to conceive such a thing.

[bitterguardian]

"Two hundred years... is a lot of future to think of stretching out yet..." There's a quiet sigh, and he gives her a smile, but even under his newfound cheer this morning, there's a world-weariness. Horvath is not ready to lay down and give up, by any means, but he is tired. He gives her a light little squeeze and lets his arm fall away as she pulls back to look up at him. "It's... mm. A central hub is an excellent way of putting it."

Horvath spears a bite of omelet, although he's distracted from quite finishing his own breakfast. After last night's dinner, food isn't an urgent need. After chewing and swallowing, he goes on, "It's a bit like a hotel lobby, I suppose, if each of the rooms were various different worlds. Most people seem to stumble there quite by accident- I did, but I haven't regretted it. Of course some worlds are more similar than others. There's a lot of humans, but there's other beings as well, and just because you meet another human it's not safe to assume they come from the same time period. Some worlds, magic is more well-known than others. You might discover worlds that are unrecognizable just as easily as worlds that are very close parallels." A sip of tea, as he considers how exactly to bring up Balthazar. "But everyone mingles in this... lobby, and the Nexus is large enough to also house a bar, restaurants, a mall... the place isn't policed directly, but there's what they call an 'anti-violence field', which makes it a safe and peaceful place to meet and talk. When I do goad myself into leaving the shelter of my library, I'm more likely to go there than out into my own world- which is a terrible habit, I'm sure, but it's nice to have someplace one doesn't have to hide what they are. No awkward lies about age or history or what you do for a living." The Nexus has been, for him, quite a blessing.

[sunandshadows]

"Ah, but two hundred years may be long enough for your cats, and their descendents, to begin to forgive me to tempting you away with the smells and tastes of fresh milk, eggs and meat. Although, I may begin to stave off much of their wrath if I could impress upon you to take some of the meal from last night home with you when you go? For yourself, and for your furred friends?"

She'd been planning on making up a care package of meals for him anyhow, and this was as good a time as any to bring it up.

Amarante's eyes grow larger, the more the sorcerer speaks of this new place of his, and she is silent until she is certain that he has finished speaking.

"Oh, this place. It sounds, it sounds... " Her mind begins whirling with possibilities. "I've never even dreamed that such a thing would exist!"

"Worlds so like ours; what if there were another me, or you, or Linette there? Could we all meet up for tea, you think? And what money should I bring for this restaurant?"

Her breath catches in her throat, and the faeling turns and takes up Max's free hand in both of hers. "Max, would you show me this place? Would you bring me? Please? It sounds like such a grand adventure! Do they have parks there, or arbors? Forests or lakes perhaps? And the people - all from different worlds? Different times? Ah, the fashion, the knowledge. The knowledge Max!"

"Oh please Maxim, please say I can come too?"

[bitterguardian]

Her enthusiasm makes him chuckle again, and he puts down the fork to wrap his other hand lightly around hers, patting it. "I'll gladly take leftovers, and I wouldn't be telling you about the Nexus without inviting you to see it for yourself."

Waiting for her to settle a little so he can explain further, Horvath turns slightly on the bench to better face her, and rests an elbow on the table's edge. His expression sobers slightly, "And yes it's true there's a potential to run into another version of yourself, or people you know. They tend to refer to them as 'alternates'. I... said before that I had a friend looking after the girls, while I'm away, and last night I told you the story of my past." There's a pause, but it's clear he's just trying to compose his thoughts, choosing his words with care. "Belshazzar... turned against us, in grief and anger. I feel I bear some guilt for not being there when I was needed, but it can't be helped now. But in other worlds, Morgana chose to drive a wedge between us by approaching not Bel, but instead turned me against my fellow apprentices." He looks a little guilty, even though rationally he knows it's silly to feel the burden of guilt for something that happened in an alternate reality. "It was myself that betrayed Merlin, and Bel who was left to carry out the quest. In his world, Maxim Horvath became a dangerous Morganian. I know this, because I've met two people from that world, one who was attacked by my alternate, and the other... is Bel himself." As serious as all this sounds, a hint of a smile twitches the corner of his mouth. "When we first encountered each other, we were each expecting the other to attack. It took us a few minutes to realize we're on the same side."

[sunandshadows]

Interesting. So there may actually be other Linettes' and Amarantes' out there after all.

"So, there is another you?" Her voice was soft as she strove to take it all in. "And, this other person... ah. Other worlds, other choices. Other realities. You but not you. A darker Maxim."

Yes, she could see how such a thing could, would happen. And looking back over her past, she realized how certain aspects of herself might have turned out, had her choices been different. Necromancer for one, had she chosen to stay in Venice as a child and continue learning the darker arts at the right hand of the undying ones. Courtesan in another, had she made that choice differently. So many things could have changed her from what she was to where she is now.

"Have you - have you met me there, Max?"

If she hadn't been watching him closely, she might have missed that little movement at the edge of his mouth; the tell-tale sign of almost-a-smile. This then was the friend that he spoke of, when he talked of anyone at all. Belshazzar. Was this then the friend who was watching his pets as well?

"I would say" She began slowly "That it is a good thing that this Bel of yours likes animals, yes? As you have temporarily catted your Bel instead of the other way around?" She was taking a jab in the dark, yes; but if anyone were to watch Max's furred family - it would likely have to be the closest friend he has.

"So I only have one more question at the moment. Does this Belshazzar of yours like home-cooked meals?"

[bitterguardian]

"A Morganian Maxim." He nods mildly. "In Bel's world, at least, he's currently contained." What he means by that specifically is hard to say, but at least it means he's not loose running amok.

The question about Bel gets a full smile out of him. "He probably would, and he could stand to put on a few pounds more than I can." Bel could, he thinks, also stand to gain a few friends every bit as much as Horvath. "He's got a dog, himself, one that matches me." His smile is a little lopsided as he makes a vague gesture towards his own missing leg. "But the girls are used to him coming over to visit for tea, at least. I so rarely have guests. But... may I quote you, on that pun?" The smile is returning in force. "Even though he's anglicized it to Balthazar, really... but I get away with the nickname since we were boys together. It's a bit like... well, for both of us, it's having back a brother we thought we'd long since lost. The Nexus has been worth it for that gift alone." It still bothers him, to think of the horrors his own alternate has done, but their friendship may undo a tiny amount of that.

"I've never met anyone like you before, my dear." He adds with a smile, and pats her shoulder once. "I won't promise there isn't another you around the place, but I'm not exactly a social butterfly, and I've never met her if there is."

[sunandshadows]

"A Morganian Max. Is this then a difference in magical schools? I had thought it to be a different race or culture, such as the Atlanteans, but I feel I am woefully incorrect in this." And this other, darker Maxim had been 'contained'. Not killed.

"Of course you may use my words with your Bel, that is Balthazar?" Hmm, she'd liked the name Belshazzar better, but when in the Sunset Lands, do as the Americans do she supposed.

"And this Bal, or Bel - he needs to eat more?" There is a light in her eyes now, as her mind starts turning. All the things she could make... all the pastries she could bake again, and the meals... someone may have woken a monster. A flour-spilling, cup-measuring, oven-baking monster.

"It seems that we have a whole line of adventures and quests lining up before us. Your plant, then this nexus, and easing your friends' appetite."

[bitterguardian]

"Morganian as in a follower of Morgana's school of sorcery, yes. She taught that magic should be self-serving, and woe betide anyone who might get in the way..." He did mention Morgana, at least, in his tale, but may have neglected to lay out the lasting conflict of ideologies between her students and theirs versus Merlin's followers.

"And I'd say he does..." He's amused at the idea of unleashing this enthusiastic chef on his friend. "Admittedly I might be biased," He smooths down his vest front, self-consciously. "But he's always been inclined towards scrawny. Bust don't tell him I said so!" There's a barely-restrained laugh in his voice. He and Bel are easy enough with each other these days to tease and prod, and he won't be sorry at all if the other sorcerer is slightly flustered by this new friend. "And you'll have to ask him which name he'd prefer yourself. I would like for him to meet you, I think. He's better with people than I am, and quicker with songs and stories, but I imagine he could use a few more friends, too." Now that he's explained to her who the man is, he has nothing but compliments about him.

[sunandshadows]

The image she gets into her mind of Max's 'scrawny' friend may make him look far thinner than the man truly is; but that simply means that she can spend even longer in the kitchen. "I would never say such a thing to a person, and most certainly not to a friend of yours. Have no fear of that, mon ami."

"And it is highly unlikely that I could find the right ingredients in time, in this nexus of yours to create a proper meal. So, either you allow me to borrow your kitchen for a spell, or you must bring your Bel here." And yes, that was deliberate on her part. Friends that they were, and able to joke and tease each other - still she would never say something that could be taken so badly as 'you must bring your Bal when you come'.

"If this is to be the case, we should make a party of it after dinner, with each of us bringing something to share. We shall build up a fire in the fireplace, and you Max, you could tell one of your wonderful stories! History or mythology, or imagination, it would be your choice! Bel could perhaps sing a song, and I? Um. Hmm." She stops to think about it. "I could either play one of my harps, or perhaps a dance by firelight."

[bitterguardian]

There have probably been times in his history when Balthazar was genuinely underweight, and for that matter there were times when Horvath tightened his belt- which used to be shorter than it is these days. She may be disappointed to find Balthazar a reasonably healthy weight, but both men will enjoy her cooking anyway. If Balthazar knew what was being plotted for him, though, his ears would be burning now.

"He's quite a good singer... and we'll both appreciate your company for a story or a song or even just to talk. I suppose we're both lonely old men." It's a very enticing thought, to share the peace and joy of this place with his best friend and his new friend both. Horvath hopes, however cautiously, that this might actually come to pass.

"I... should warn you though, just because the Nexus has an anti-violence field doesn't make it safe in every sense. You'd best stick to ingredients from home, because food and drink there can carry... tricks. They call them LOLs, but it's usually worthy of fae pranks. And don't pick up any random objects you see lying about for the same reason."

[littlemischief]

"These past few days are a rarity for me, I spend so much of my time in transit between one court and the next; brokering deals and carrying messages. It also means long hours alone as I travel the paths on the overworld." Mara shrugs then, and slowly begins to gather up empty plates and utensils to bring back into the house.

"Linette's jobs carry her far from here, and most times we meet up it's in our home in California. This is - this place is for quieter times. Not the chaos that comes from living with a group, a community." Or rather, a family made up of different species of shape-changers. "So I would be glad to have the company of two fine gentlemen such as yourself and your close companion, when I am home."

The look she gives him now is sharp, one eyebrow raised. "Tricks? Do you mean fun and mostly jokes to be had at one another's expense? Or..." Biting her lower lip, Mara looks down at the table, slowly pulls the juice container to her. "Max, I must warn you. Here, in the world we inhabit now?"

Her face is somber now, any trace of joviality gone. "Fae pranks can be dangerous, even deadly. They are called pranks because they are amusing - to the fae. Boggarts, pucca, there is a historical basis to many of the legends spoken, and many of the old wive's tales told."

"The outer shell does not always show the rot within. It is truth as much for the shining folk as any other I'd say. So if these ah, these El-oh-el's of yours are truly fae in nature? They may cause dark times indeed."

Her mood brightens up a bit however, and she finishes with "But I shall try not to pick up just anything I see laying in wait for me." Besides, there won't be shiny things lying around for her eyes to catch on, right? No sparkly trinkets or unusual objects? Nooo.

[bitterguardian]

"Pranks." He gives a firm nod, and picks up the crutches to pull himself carefully up. Carrying things is trickier when both hands are occupied with the crutches, just one reason he prefers the prosthetic and cane, but he makes an attempt at gathering up a few things he can manage with one crutch mostly tucked under his arm. "By which I meant it's a mix of both. Some LOLs are relatively harmless, like being turned into an animal for a few hours, or younger, or some other temporary inconvenience. I've also heard some have far deeper and more dire consequences, and sometimes mentally traumatic ones. I'll admit I visit infrequently enough I've dodged them for the most part- I told you I tend to hide away with my books, but I have heard stories." He'll let her lead, and get the back door for them both, since he just doesn't have a free hand to be that gentlemanly.

"Once, Bel's car was turned sentient for a day, and that was mildly entertaining. But the Nexus is also where I encountered... well. The reason for my current quest. The anti-violence field may have prevented direct harm, but sometimes that isn't enough..."

[sunandshadows]

Her foot holds the door open for him as her arms are full, but she begins giggling even before they get to the kitchen. "A sentient car? Truly?" Giggles turn to outright laughter.

"Oh my. Did it at least assist in warning of other lights and drivers? Was it overly cautious, or did it wish to drive too fast?" First set of dishes are down, and she's spinning around the other side of the island in the middle of the room, heading back outside for more.

"Hmmm. There is violence, and ah, violence. Physical, mental" She pauses to look back at Max "Spiritual, emotional. What is violent to one race or culture might not be to another. So I would presume that this 'violence' field you speak of is mainly physical in nature? Force on force?"

And then she's gone, back through the kitchen into the dining area and the door to the outside once more. "Hold the door open please?" She calls, as she starts her journey back inside once more. Once inside she picks up right where she left off.

"So though I may not strike another, my words may cut as deep and sharp as any blade - if I choose to use them that way. I will remember this, and take care to be both cautious" She sneaks a wink "And upon some of my better behavior."

[bitterguardian]

Carrying things slows him down, but once he's put the cups in the sink, he's quick to follow and catch the door for her. Holding that is an easier form of help, and he waits obediently with it while she brings the rest of the dishes inside. "Primarily physical violence, yes. It certainly doesn't curtail speech in any way." He glances out to the table to make sure they've gotten everything before following her back inside.

"And the car ended up loose in the Nexus proper, rather than out on the streets. It... played keepaway, I suppose you could call it, for quite a long time, but it did seem attached to him all the same. Lovely old thing, a Rolls Royce Phantom. I marvel over some of the similarities in our paths through alternate worlds, both on Merlin's quest..."

[sunandshadows]

"Do I take it to mean that you too own a lovely old phantom, Max?"

Her focus now was on making certain that the kitchen dishes were done. And since he had cooked for her, she insists on being the one to do the majority of what was left to clean up. But if he wants to help dry the dishes, well - how can she say no to that?

The morning passes by to afternoon, and either she's asking questions about his books, his cats, his friend Bel, or his nexus; or she's taking him around her yard and showing off her apple and pear trees; her tiny vineyard, or her herb garden. And several times, she finds that he interrupts her, or she interrupts him, to discuss the mundane, medicinal, or magical potent of the plants they are gazing at. It's relaxing, and actually refreshing in a way for her to be able to speak with someone who already knows this subject, and can give his point of view.

As the day passes on however, she finally looks at the sky and has to excuse herself for a while to her bedroom to lay down for a short nap. Dinner is heating in the stove, and when she finally comes out the place is scented by both the food, and some of the bee's wax candles that Max has lit in the meantime.

When she does come out, Mara has another slip-dress on, square-necked and short sleeved a of dark grey-green. This one is clean however, and unlike what he'd seen her in the first time, there are no holes or rips in this outfit. Her hair is tightly braided, and there is an alert look in her eyes as she goes to the front window and looks out at the large oak tree, the garden, and the wooden gate that separates them.

"I'll be leaving soon." She turns her head slightly, to watch as another cat winds in and about the legs of the table nearby. "I was told that I would have an esc" Her voice breaks off as something outside catches her eyes. If he comes closer, he can look over her shoulder and watch for himself.

Out of the very earth is rising a bank of fog, flowing along the old stone wall and growing larger, blotting out sight of the trees, the lake, even the distant mountains. Where was once a knee-high wooden gate is becoming obscured, growing hazy and then disappearing into the mists. In it's place, an ornamental wrought-wooden gate appears. Mara continues to stand there looking out the window without bothering to back the curtain, watching as the gate silently opens to show a path into the darkness beyond.

Out of the mists stalks a tall, lean figure dressed like something out of a renaissance legend. Clad in all black from fine silken shirt, to the leather trews tucked into knee-high folded boots, the man halts just beyond the gate. His cloak whips in a sudden wind behind him, and his hair is loose and long, nearly as dark as the cloak on his back. He turns his head slowly, taking in all he can, with one hand free and the other resting on the pommel of the long, slender sword at his side. And when he faces the house only one dark, and sharply piercing eye can be seen. The other, if there is any eye there at all, is hidden behind an eye-patch of sable velvet.

And though she knows she's hidden behind the curtains, somehow Mara knows that the figure beyond knows exactly where she's hiding. "It's him!" She whispers, her lips barely moving. "It's Le Comte de... my queen's own consort!"

Spinning about, she takes a step and leans against the wall, her eyes wide. "I had no clue that they would - that he would himself lead this hunt. But then, it makes sense that... " She shakes her head suddenly. "Oh, I am sorry Maxim. I blather on, and time is so short!" Pulling herself away from the wall, she reaches out for a quick hug and a "I will return, but do not wait up for me. I will return, I promise!" before she racing to the front door.

She composes herself just as she puts her hand on the doorknob however, and with a last swipe of her other hand at her hair, brushing down any stray bangs; she is out the door and shutting it silently behind her.

Mara's walk is completely different now. Stately, shoulders back and head high, she picks her way down the walk toward the old oak, and the figure standing in it's shadow. Roughly three steps from him she drops into a low, graceful curtsy, holding it there and then rising slowly to speak to the black-clad warrior before her. If her time bobbing and spinning about the kitchen that morning with Max was one type of a dance, here then in another - a waltz, stately and dignified, and almost unearthy in it's grace. A hand, gloved in leather comes up and gently strokes the faeling's cheek, words are spoken in a voice so low that it is doubtful they can be heard more than a few feet away. And a gesture is made, toward the mist-filled gate to the overworld.

The woman only nods once, and heads into the mist without hesitation. The man in black hesitates however, and his head comes up to stare at the front of the house with it's curtained windows once more. Then the man nods his head, and turns away to be swallowed into the fog as he too begins to walk the path through the hedge of fog and stone.

Moments later, as swiftly as it came up, the unearthly wall and gate dissipates; and the grass, the garden, and the mountain is seen clearly once more. There is nothing there to say that two people stood in that very spot under the oak tree only moments before.

[bitterguardian]

"Oh, no, I have an antique white Bentley." He smirks faintly, because of course he's proud of his car, even if it's never come to life and had to be chased around the Nexus. "But they're both antiques, imports, and we've both had them from new." He's quick to pull a chair over to the sink, where he can sit to dry the dishes, even if he'll need help putting them away after.

Horvath tells her of his vaults carved out of an old abandoned train station in New York, and the library that's built up there. He tells her about Smoke and Whisper, born in his wardrobe and abandoned by their feral mother. He had to nurse them on bottles of kitten formula, and then stepped on Whisper by accident when she was barely six months old and ran under the prosthetic foot while he was walking. Stroking one of the resident cats, he freely admits to his terror at how badly he might have hurt her, and his immense relief when she turned out to be relatively unharmed apart from a lasting fear of feet. He tells her about Bel, too, with an affection and flattery that rivals the way he talks about his cats. Bel is, she may guess, his only close friend, his only family. Being together again as friends makes them both forget their aches and the long ages, and he sheepishly says they're sometimes downright childish at each other. He's looking forward to Bel's welsh cookies for Christmas, and to spending the day with him, a bright spot in the gloom of the impending winter.

It's a little hard for him to not talk about Bel, once he's started. She may notice references to the other sorcerer having done or said this or that slip into his conversation often.

The walk around the yard and gardens is leisurely and pleasant, and he's a fairly knowledgeable herbalist, even if it's not his primary focus. He insists on helping with a midday tea, to tide them over until supper, and shoos her off to nap as soon as she mentions the need for one. He'll content himself with the cats and any books he finds, and keep half an eye on the oven. He's not used to spending so much of the day talking and being with anyone, and the chance to sit and rest quietly is welcome on its way. Her home is peaceful and welcoming even while she's dozing, and when she wakes she'll find him in the same quietly content mood she left him in.

He's quick to catch the difference in her mood, though, sobering a little at her proclamation. It's been a wonderful day, but they both knew the hunt was waiting at the end of it. It was pleasant to put off thinking about it for a while, but now she has a duty ahead, and all he has is the waiting. Horvath rises on the crutches with a nod, heading for the kitchen and thinking to say something about offering to serve her dinner, but then she's drawn to the window, and cuts herself off mid-sentence, and that throws all else out of his mind. In a few strides he's close, frowning mildly at the sweeping fog that can only be a supernatural element. His view over the top of her head is clear enough, and he knows exactly what to think of a gate that appears out of the mist, so like how she brought him here.

He doesn't draw away from the view until she already has, making an exclamation of surprise over her escort. Who the man is precisely, he doesn't know, but obviously he means much to her. The sense of urgency is clear to read, though, and he puts one crutch aside quickly to give her a one-armed hug when she hugs him, and gives her a reassuring little smile when she pauses at the door. There's a farewell nod, his expression gently encouraging, then she's away and he's left alone to the house and the cats and the uneaten dinner. Taking up the other crutch again, he moves back a step or two to watch her through the window, marveling at the many faces she wears. Everyone has their masks in life, but hers are more varied and artful than most. He watches until the figures and the gate have gone, then considers the view of the mountains a moment more before he moves away.

There's food, and she'd be upset if he didn't eat, but his appetite is considerably less, tonight. When he's had what he wants, he makes sure the rest will keep warm for at least a number of hours. Quietly he cleans up after himself, and stirs up the fireplace, and settles in the same chair he spent the night in. With the cats for company he tends to his leg again, and works on recharging his rings, and when there's nothing practical left to be done he simply watches the cats and candles on the mantel.She said not to wait up, but how can he do anything else? Alone in the night, warm and safe though he is, he recalls their moments of terror huddled together in a cold scrape of a cave, with the monster breathing down their necks.

He may doze a little, fitfully, but never for long. It's a vigil, however pointless, but he's a little too anxious over his new friend to do anything else.