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

[sunandshadows]

It is awkward moving and it's compounded with the knowledge in her mind that he is so neat and clean, and she herself is just the opposite. Still, she has no desire to let go, not yet.

The cats are moving, circling around the room silently, but this time they do not play their game of weaving in and around feet. This time they are alert, watching. And there is no way they are getting close to her right now. Not with what they are smelling on her skin.

The fire is warm and inviting, and she's bending her knees to sit in a chair, when she shakes her head and rises back up.

"I can't. I have to" She gestures "I can't rest like this. I'm sorry. I'll be back, but I - no. Just no." Shaking her head, she wipes the back of her good arm across her face, across her eyes, then attempts a lopsided attempt at a smile.

"If you are still awake, I would love a glass of watered wine. But I understand if you sleep. You deserve it.." She takes a step, another, then turns to look back.

"It was a wonderful thing you did, Maxim; waiting up for me. Truly wonderful, and it is much appreciated. Merci beaucoup mon ami." From there she slowly fades into the shadows as she walks out of the room. Moments later the bathroom door closes, and the sound of running water can be heard.

[bitterguardian]

Sitting down only to get up again quickly is simply not something he can do, but he lets her go, a brief flash of surprise melting into an understanding nod. After his encounter with Shub Niggurath, he was too rattled to anything sensible, and went looking for a drink once he could think of anything at all. It took Bel's guiding hand to send him off to clean up, and getting the stench of the eldritch thing off himself (at least as much as he could) was the best thing for him. What she went to fight this evening wasn't quite the same sort of creature, thank goodness, but the idea may still hold true.

"I'll still be here, when you've cleaned up." He nods, and gets up again more slowly. By the time she returns, he's settled against one arm of the couch, gazing contemplatively into the middle distance. He is, truth be told, a little tired. There are two glasses of red wine, watered down a little, on the nearby coffee table, and he looks up with a gentle smile when he notices her.

[sunandshadows]

When she finally comes back, she is much more her normal self. Hair washed and tamed, tightly braided down her back. Her deep blue under-dress is almost hidden by the deep blue embroidered, floor-length and sleeveless overjacket she wears. The sleeves of her dress flow down to her wrists, and are loose, edged in wide, embroidered trim and an inch-wide edge of black fur. And when she moves, the the bottom of her dress is finished in the same manner, the black fur tickling the top of her bare feet. Her feet that make no sound, but there is a slight 'swish' as the cloth trails over the floor when she moves.

In silence she looks at the chair, positioned so that it can take in the most of the fire's warmth; then at the sorcerer sitting on the couch on the side. Decision made, Mara walks over to the coffee table, raising a glass and nodding to the man; then turns and stares into the fire.

I toast to those gone beyond, may they find the paradise they seek, not found here; and may the gods find mercy for them. She thinks, raising high her glass and taking a sip, then another. One sip for the innocent father and son - caught unaware by an ferocious beast of myth and magic; a sip for the priest who died, another victim of the vipercat. And then finally, she takes a sip for the vipercat itself.

Her shoulders unstiffen, formal moment of remembrance and dedication finished. She turns to look back at the chair once more, obviously empty and open so that she can relax in full view of the fire; then turns and walks over to the couch. One hand holds the wine glass, the other picks up a sleeping cat from where it is resting beside Horvath. Swift and gentle the cat is deposited on the floor and then she is climbing onto the couch, curling in, leaning in - perhaps even on - Maxim's own lap.

The cat behind his shoulders, lying on the back of the couch just raises it's head, stares and sniffs, then lowers it's head once more, uninterested.

[bitterguardian]

She's elegant, in her fur-trimmed dress, and while he feels far more comfortable back in his three-piece suit, it's just a little shabby and threadbare. His clothes tend to be well-made and tailored to fit (his build is too odd for anything to fit well otherwise), but this also means he keeps on wearing them until they're quite old, and for his journey in the woods he'd picked clothes that were nearing the end of being wearable anyway. Is it any wonder he feels old and shabby and flabby, watching her glide across the floor in half-fae grace and beauty?

At her toast, he is silent, but he does pick up the other glass, lifting it as well. He did not know the ones who've died, tonight, but he guesses at that salute, and will drink to their honor. When he's done that, he sets the glass down again, still mostly full. This nightcap was more for her sake, and he's tired enough without alcohol. Horvath sighs quietly, settling back a little, while she finds her peace of mind gazing in the fire. Once she's on the move for a seat, he thinks little of it, and he's not entirely surprised that she might prefer to sit on the couch companionably.

That is, he expected she'd settle at the other end of the couch. To have her land more or less in his lap sends his eyes widening in surprise. He actually freezes, for just a moment, weary mind suddenly very much awake and spinning pointlessly. Is he supposed to hug her again? Is she about to start crying? Did something even more terrible happen that she has yet to tell him? It reminds him, in fact, of a night when his last apprentice was very young. It was more than a century ago, back when he had both legs and roughly fifty less pounds, and the world was a few wars younger. The child hadn't been his apprentice even a year yet, but just long enough to lose some fear of the grim figure that was his new master. He'd had a nightmare, and small wonder since he'd lost his family in a terrible way, and when Horvath had gone to see what the noise of alarm was about he'd been crying. After he sat down to try to talk to him, the boy had climbed into his lap-just so, and clung, and cried, and eventually fallen back to sleep.

Horvath had rubbed his back, awkwardly, floundering for words of consolation that never came. The apprentice before that one had left angry, had told Horvath he was a cold dead old beast, and that he hated him. But the last apprentice, the one who once cried himself to sleep in Horvath's lap, had parted as an adept on reasonably good terms.

Awkwardly, floundering for words, Horvath shifts just a little and very tentatively lets a hand rest on her back. He's very warm from sitting by the fire, or maybe just because he's a natural furnace himself. He's the right balance of solid and squishy for hugging or curling up against, and he is, however awkwardly, rubbing her back.

[sunandshadows]

She finishes off her wine in a few gulps, then leans forward and drops the empty goblet the last few inches onto the floor. It hits the floor, tips, and rolls a few inches before stopping. She'll pick it up later. Right now it's just not important.

A tug of bunched cloth here, a slight shifting there, and then she's getting all comfortable and starting to relax. And no, seriously no, she is not in the mood to talk for a little while. But then, she's not going to break down crying either. It's enough that she is alive, and he is alive and human, warm and trusted and awake and present. After taking part in so much death, it's good to be able to reach out and be able to hold on to living, breathing, life. It's good to not have to be alone tonight.

When she realizes what he's doing, she starts to chuckle. Twisting, she manages to grasp his hand with a few fingers, then pulls his arm around to circle her waist. She leaves it there as she leans in and rests her head on his chest with a soft, contented sigh.

"I'm glad you are here, Maxim. This night would be very cold without you." No, she's not talking just about the temperature.

[bitterguardian]

Horvath is very alive, heartbeat strong and a little quick against that barrel chest. She may be able to tell, from the stiffness of his movements, just how awkward he is right now. She's allowed to manipulate his arms wherever she wants them, though, and after she's settled in he begins gradually to relax. This kind of contact with anyone is all too rare. He can't help but take some comfort from the arrangement, as well. She's warm and kind, and looking to him for comfort, a service he's always wished he felt adequate providing. For her, he seems to be enough right now.

"I'm not... good at this, you know..." It's a sheepish mumble, and of course she'd probably beg to differ. Free arm resting along the arm of the couch, other arm resting around her waist, he's surprisingly comfortable himself. Without the prosthetic on, there's no concern for any position putting extra pressure against that. She's warm, too, a human blanket across his lap and chest. Is this what friends- or even family is supposed to feel like? He'd forgotten, even with Bel there's still a lingering care, the quiet shadow of the deeds of their alternates.

[sunandshadows]

She has been aware of his blushing, and his unease in certain 'personal space' situations. And she is very aware that he is unused to this being close, touching thing. So in her mind she's aware that right this very minute she's probably - at least slightly - causing him a certain amount of anxiety and distress, distress that hopefully calm in time. She doesn't tell herself that 'she needs this' or that he does; its more primal than that. More instinctive.

Soon however, Mara does quirk a hidden grin and comes very close to nearly telling him to treat her like an overgrown cat if it would make him feel better.

However, in the end, perhaps discretion would be best. He's just beginning to relax, after all.

"Hmmph. You think not? I was about to get up up, however I realize that more practice is called for. So Maxim, you are, as they say, stuck with me awhile longer." And that settles that in her mind. Of course she says this lazily, only moving her head a bit to lift it off his shoulder and look up at his face before dropping her head back down.

Point of fact, he can probably tell that her body never moved, no muscles shifted, nothing tensed up. So she may have been exaggerating a bit when it came to the 'about to get up' part. More likely it was considered, and discarded, right about the time that Maxim decided to speak up and get self depreciating. Again.

She is silent a while, enjoying the peace and quiet between herself and the man she was curled up against. And finally, quietly, she begins to speak.

Without going into details, she describes the hunt, the realization that the beast had fed, and the sudden need for something new to draw the beast out. Some sort of bait that would be certain to bring the vipercat out from where it is resting. She mentions how the priest offered to take the bait himself, to guard and protect until the beast came out of it's hidden lair. How the monster charged, enraged and furious, just as they had hoped. How it's speed and fury overcame the priest, wounding him mortally - but not killing him outright. And how the others rushed in, surrounding and subduing the animal - both on this plain and the other - and how, once it lay dead, the twisted magics that created the vipercat were neutralized, and dissipated into the mists by the priest, though the cost was too high for his body to survive.

The vipercat was burned, the priest's body returned to the Fortunate Isles, and she was escorted home and protected until she arrived at her doorstep.

Her voice is sleepy, her words quiet but clear as she recounts the story. It's a pick and choose, several things were explained, other's were deliberately left out for now. But finally she falls silent with a few last sentences.

"Did I cover it all, Max? Oh, and there is one more thing. I was told to thank you; your deeds will be known, and your story told as well when they speak of this night. Your courage and bravery, your steadfast strength of will, your knowledge and power harmed it terribly in the overworld. Had you not done what you did, Maxim - it is likely that this story would have had a far different outcome."

"Merci tres beaucoup, mon chere ami" And at that, he gets another soft kiss on the cheek, then she sighs softly and goes silent again.

[bitterguardian]

About to get up indeed, she feels awfully well settled for that. When she lifts her head to look at him at close range, he's got that slightly sheepish, faintly blushing, flattered-but-embarrassed look that's becoming so familiar already.

As she tells the tale of the hunt, however, any blushing fades. It's a moving tale, one that would be epic told over drinks at a distance, with another brief toast for the fallen, but tonight it's still close and raw, and he hardly blames her for being distraught. Some part of him is annoyed nobody saw her any further than the door, but then, perhaps they knew he'd be here waiting for her.

When she's finished, he gives a mild shake of his head. "I don't know how badly I really wounded it, in the end, but thank you..." If she looks hard enough, she may find old tales of terrible monsters being taken down by a lone Merlinian sorcerer named Maximus, and often without aid, but his deeds have grown quieter over the years as he retreated from active work. "I do wish I could have done more. Perhaps if I'd been fresh when I went up against it..." He sighs, distracted, and this time the kiss gets only a mildly shy smile. It's very comfortable here with her cuddled against him, and he's finally relaxed.

[sunandshadows]

"Oui, and if wishes were wings then all fairy's could fly". She shakes her head, and sits up carefully to speak. This, for her, is important.

"Maxim, you cannot change the past. And if you could, it still would not be right. Things happen the way they do, not because of fate, but because that is simply the way they happen. Life is hard, and rarely if ever fair." If he has a free hand, she is reaching for it with both of hers, to hold while she speaks.


"You do yourself no good service to try to blame yourself for what 'could have been'" She whispers.


Then louder, she speaks "So do not, please do not begin to second guess yourself now. What you did was exactly what you could do, and exactly when you were able to do it. Feel good about your success!"

"Feel good my friend, about your survival. Our survival." And with that, his hand is dropped in her lap and her arms are reaching around him to hug the bigger man.

[bitterguardian]

He gives a quiet 'oof' when she hugs him, but manages a small smile, and gives her a gentle squeeze back. "I am glad for our survival, and... you're right, of course. I probably spend too much time dwelling on the past, on what-could-have-beens... I'm afraid the Nexus does little to discourage that, when you half expect to run face first into just that at any moment..."

Horvath sighs, settled deep in the couch cushions, and feeling unexpectedly comfortable with her arms around him. He's tired, but he doesn't want to move. "But just remember your own role. I would have been stumbling in the dark and easy prey, alone. And to face that thing a second time was very brave of you."

[sunandshadows]

She nods her agreement. Yes, as a matter of fact, she does think he spends far too much time dwelling on the past. Still, its just something she's grown concerned about with him. Especially since she simply cannot see how someone she has come to regard so well, saying such things about himself.

Everything is fine until he mentions her role, and especially the fact that she went back. Now it's her turn to stiffen slightly, it's her turn to feel awkward. And where he would be self-depreciating, she only says "I was protected well, and too, I was not alone" and pushes away any compliments and talk of whatever role that she may have played.

In other words, 'hello pot? Kettle calling'.

The fire is low, a few pieces of log, and bright embers. And it is warm, darker too. The sun will come up in a few hours, but fortunately this time of year there is no 'false dawn' to wake them too early.

"If you'd like, I can get up now. I know I likely feel heavy, especially since you've had to hold me a while. And we both need sleep." Mara murmurs, her eyes closing longer, and not opening as fast.

"Or we can just nap here for now. Its up to you, Maxim. I may be able to reach the throw rug on that end of the couch from here - but your arms are longer." It is very much up to him. Because at this particular moment, she's not about to move unless he wants her to. Tired faeling is tired.

[bitterguardian]

For just a moment, he feels a pang of disappointment that she's about to get up. She's warm, and he certainly wouldn't call her heavy, and he's gotten very comfortable in this pose. Then she suggests an alternative.

He doesn't even bother with a verbal answer, but reaches very carefully, not wanting to dislodge her, fingers stretching to get a grip on the blanket and tug it closer. He pulls it across and over them both, a little haphazardly, and then with a gesture and a brief glow of one ring he stirs the fire just a little. There's no need to add fuel, they don't want a full fire going while they sleep, but it's enough to stir up what's there and keep it going a little longer. She's just gained a living bed, and hopefully sitting up means he won't snore...

[sunandshadows]

If he does snore, she's not going to hear it. She had a rough day and she's soon breathing evenly, eyes closed and asleep. And if it isn't quite a peaceful sleep, at least for now her dreams aren't haunted. No thrashing of limbs or crying out, just a soft murmur here and there, words too quiet or mumbled to understand. After all, what would the word 'Oradeur" mean to most men?

When she wakes, he might well be sleeping, and she blinks open her eyes but doesn't raise her head from where it's resting on his chest. She feels the rise and fall of Max's breathing, she can hear his heart beating under his shirt. With a start, Mara realizes that she's not alone - at least two of the cats have joined her as she slept in his lap, and there are others curled about them both as well. There is a slight meow of protest as she quietly pushes her furry companion off of her, and begins the very slow and careful task of unwrapping herself from the blanket and not wake Horvath with her movements.

The sun is just starting to rise behind them, so most of the house is still shadowed, though light enough to see by. And the fire has gone out, so it's a bit brisk outside of the blanket, which makes her want to crawl back under - but no. New day, new responsibilities. She takes one more quick glance down at Horvath's face, traces her fingers lightly just an inch or so above his cheek, then tucks the blanket around him and heads to her room to dress before putting on morning tea.

[bitterguardian]

Horvath requires more sleep than the half-fae woman, and he stayed up late waiting for her return. Used to sleeping with occasionally restless cats, when she extricates herself he just gives a wordless mumble and settles right back into deeper sleep, chin sunk on his chest. He'll miss the warmth of her against him, but there's still the blanket, and he's warm enough all by himself.

His face relaxed in sleep is sober, bags under the eyes, and a few lines from frowning often. He knows how to smile and laugh, that she's seen, but he is overall a deeply serious man.

He may be slow to wake, cats still curled up all around him. Already one slinks in to take the still-warm space on his lap she so recently vacated.

[sunandshadows]

She will be in and out of the room, in and out of the house in fact. Once she peeks in, then closes the curtains because the light is getting too bright in there, so far as she's concerned. Especially for a sleeping man.

As he continues to slumber, she tries to calculate the distance between the gate and the end of his quest, and realizing that it will likely take one more overnight in the woods. So she begins cooking, and packing for such a thing. This time, she'll be bringing a pack as well, she decides.

When he does wake, the sun is likely high in the sky, and the smell of bacon and baking cinnamon buns is drifting through the house. How does she know that he will wake soon, and is able to time his food just right? The cats have finally started getting up from where they are sleeping around or on the man, and have begun coming into the kitchen, begging and demanding treats. Spoiled creatures that they are. And of course she gives in to them.

So when he does open his eyes, she will be fully dressed in another brightly colored, embroidered day dress, and setting a tray down on the side table, within his reach.

"Bonjour, chere! I hope you are hungry!"

[bitterguardian]

It's the cats leaving, and the sound of them pleading for food in the distance, that truly wakes him. His girls back home have him well trained. He's surprised to stir himself only to find her setting breakfast at his elbow. "...Good lord." He squints at the curtained window, while his brain shakes off the last vestiges of sleep. "Is it late? I didn't mean to sleep in..." He feels more than a little pampered, the way she's always bringing him food and drink.

Still, she may note he takes the opportunity while she's close to get a good look at her face, trying to gauge if she's truly all right after the terrors of the hunt the night before. Making sure she's okay is a priority that comes before breakfast, and he feels sheepish yet again for being the last one up.

[sunandshadows]

"Non, non. Rest a bit. Come back to the day, Maxim. All is well, it is not too late." She smiles placidly at him, her face and eyes calm. Real or simply facade, that's all she's showing for now, but at the way her lips perk up when one of the cats jump onto the back of the couch? It's likely real.

"I took the liberty of packing some items myself, in case you would like to start the ending of your quest today. Or we could rest another night here, and begin tomorrow? Either way, it should take only one more night in the wilderness, before you attain your goal."

In her mind, that's the right thing. Any quest shouldn't have it too easy, especially when it gets close to completion. A last night of struggle, one last challenge (although this is going to be a very comfortable night of challenge in comparison) and then he - they - shall find success. And she very much wants Horvath to find success.

"We cannot be there too quickly you understand; you still owe me a story!"

[bitterguardian]

Seeing her smiling, and entertained by the cast (who just may have decided Horvath is the best piece of furniture she's ever brought into the place), he relaxes and smiles a little himself. The reminder of the quest gets a thoughtful nod, though, and he shifts himself on the couch, sitting up better and folding up the blanket to set aside. "I... probably shouldn't put it off too long. Bel and the girls will wonder what's keeping me..." He's feeling so much better that his end goal seems far less necessary, now, but there's no promise he won't encounter the eldritch thing again, or somebody else around the Nexus might. He really should have some aglaophotis on hand, in case.

"And yes... I do owe you one story yet." He hasn't come up with one, but now that she's said it, he'll be thinking.

"Did you... sleep all right? Are you ready to continue, today?" He's fairly sure he'll be all right on the prosthetic again, but he doesn't want to push her if the hunt has made things too fresh in her mind still.

[sunandshadows]

She takes one of the small plates on the tray, sets a few pieces of bacon on it, and with a hot, sticky spiced confection in her other hand, she sits down by his side. "Oh yes, I slept quite peacefully, and awoke quite refreshed. And you, Max, was your sleep pleasant as well?"

Oh yea, bacony goodness and hot sticky buns. Lots of carbs, proteins and yummy fats. Mara delicately licks the frosting off her fingers before continuing.

"I am more than ready. I have slept well, I am eating, and my things are packed. Even my wound heals quick and clean, and it was sharp the cut. I'll likely have barely a scar, and even that should fade in time. It would not do for me to sit about the house and think today. Action is needed to put the past further behind me. But it is you, your quest, and your desires that must come first. Are you up to journeying on?"

[bitterguardian]

Horvath pauses, more or less awake, now, and mind catching up. "Oh? A sharp, clean wound, was it?" The glance is knowing, but he won't ask more than that. He'd been too distracted with worry over her emotional state, last night, to question the injury too much. Her words have him suspecting it was not made by the beast itself, though.

"I've been sitting around too much, myself, although I do feel better for it, for once. I'll... put myself together, after I eat," He's still awkward simply saying he needs to put the prosthetic leg back on. "and I think I'll be all right to travel on again." He's not up to running again, of course, but he's never up to running in the first place. He takes some bacon and a roll, on a plate of his own, and lightly nudges away a sniffing cat.

[sunandshadows]

"Indeed, quite clean." Her head gives a firm not as she very obviously does not look in his direction. Instead she looks down at what's left of her breakfast and takes up the morning confection - what's left of it - one more time. "Does this have too much spice to you? I added a bit of nutmeg and some cardamom as well to the mix. Tell me true, do you like it?"

See the wide, blue innocent eyes, the long lashes blinking slowly? The winsome, well-practiced courtiers smile? This is the look she has when she's trying desperately to come to some deep decision, and not let it show.

He had been honest with her, even when he didn't have to be - about his nexus, about his past. She was used to keeping secrets, both hers and others'; likely he was as well. But, did she have the right to keep this from him? Mara realizes in those short seconds that to begin keeping secrets from this man, though it may upset him to hear, would be to do him, and their friendship, a great dis-service.

"Yes, my friend. It was very clean, and near-uneartly sharp. Le Comte always keeps his weapons that way." She draws a long slow breath and lets it out slowly.

"I told you that the beast had eaten already. And then it just - disappeared. It went between someplace where we could not find it. And so another plan was called for. A plan to bait the beast." She lifts her arm, hidden under another long sleeve.

"And what better bait than an a badly injured enemy? One that had hurt the beast so badly that it couldn't help but to come out from hiding, screaming in vengeance and rage?"

Her eyes have been steady on his face until now, and now she at last looks down at her plate. "His lordship did not agree to the plan at first. He was quite vocally against it in fact, and rather adamant that - um." She swallows. "That another LeGarde not be sacrificed while under his protection as the last one had."

"But you see, it had to happen this way. It had to be done."

[bitterguardian]

"But you said the priest...?" He frowns mildly, not directly at her, but he does look a little displeased. It didn't have to be done that way at all, because there was surely more than one way to lure out the beast. It had come for them without the incentive of knowing them, and while waiting until it grew hungry again would be tedious, that too was an option. No wonder she was so distraught, if the battle had not only been with the beast, but with her own people, as well. He should have known. Family arguments cut deeper than any blade could.

"...And what did he have to say, after?" He holds his plate and the roll, but does not eat, too focused on the discussion at hand, first.

[sunandshadows]

"I said that he offered to take... to take and protect the bait. I was the bait, Maximus. My blood was wiped on trees, left on the ground. Enough for the beast to smell, enough to lead it to us. The priest died from the wounds he received, protecting me as the trap was sprung."

Too much spice. Definitely too much spice. She could taste it, smell it. And she can only look at Horvath in short glances.

"Monsieur le Comte is a man of many moods, most of them dark. But few words. He walked me up the steps, told me that you were waiting within. And then he kissed my forehead and told me that he would give his wife - my adopted mother - my regards. But he was the one to bind my wound, tearing his own shirt to do so and allowing none other to care for me but himself. And he was the one who went through the forest after, destroying each and every drop of my blood or washing it away, so that none remained."

"He is a dark man, Maxim; but not a bad one."

[bitterguardian]

The plate lowers slowly to rest on one knee as she talks, and he continues to frown, his own mood turning a little dark. "He's family, then..." He pauses, clearly intending to say more, but for a long moment he's quiet, wiping his fingers neatly on a napkin. What he thinks of thinks of the spice is impossible to say, since his food is largely untasted.

He's not intending to draw things out as a form of punishment, he's just having trouble deciding on his words. When he does speak, he looks ceilingward and away, not wanting to pin her with a scowl unintentionally. "If... I had known you intended to be bait, I would have fought against you going. Obviously he felt the same. But... that decision was not mine to make, nor his. You're a strong woman, and you knew what you risked. I only wish you had told me your intentions, however much I might have disagreed with them." He's known too many strong women, and learned respect for them, to ultimately stand in her path. He just would have liked to know what that path was.

"If... it had failed, and you had died, I would have blamed them for putting you up to it, for forcing you to act as some damsel in distress. And I would have been wrong."

[sunandshadows]

Though they are technically related through her adoption, Mara would never, ever say that the Comte was part of her family. In fact she's startled when Horvath brings that up.

Too much spice, not enough sugar. Not enough vanilla, the frosting is flat. These things run through her mind as Max begins to speak. Whether it's true or not, it's how she feels right at this moment.

This, this is why her initial thoughts were to deflect, gloss over and simply not mention certain parts of the hunt. Horvath was a man of honor, and compassion. Of courage and caring. Who, with those traits, would willingly see thier friend put themselves in harm's way?

"I did not intend that when I left, though I held it in mind as a distant possibility." Her voice is soft, and she presses her lips hard together again before speaking. "And what kind of friend would I be to worry you with every possible outcome over every situation? Maxim, you were hurt. Worn out, you had just begun to make your way back to health. And I am honor-bound as your hostess to offer you all aid and comfort when and how I can. Should I then add to the heaviness in your heart - and for some outcome that may never come to pass?"

"If it had failed, my lady's consort would have come himself to tell you of the news. And dealt with your anger and pain, just as he would have been dealing with his own. But I am not dead. And the vipercat shall kill no more. Please, Max? Try to look upon the future and not the past?"

She is trained as a courtier, to know and anticipate her liege's needs and emotions; to sooth the hurt and ease the anger. She see's - she can almost feel - the conflict inside the sorcerer; it's just that this time she has no way of knowing how to sooth his worry, his dis-satisfaction and darkness and his concern.

With that knowledge comes an inward personal feeling of failure, of causing pain and anger when her job is to heal and calm. Still, she manages to lift her head for his last few words and offer a ghost of a smile.