The room is dark. Not pitch black, but dark enough that, upon entering, the first thing one would notice is not the sights of the books perched on the shelves, or the magical artifacts littering them, nor the efforts the inhabitant of this place made to turn it into a one-room-home.
It would be the smell. Calming incense, with a wild, harsh note from dried herbs, the addictive smell of old books, paper decomposing, telling of past stories. Life and death and something in between.
The room has been their home and prison for years now, for Meister and Monster.
It's clear from the presence of a neat little bed, the nest that hosts Meister's nightmares and dreams. The first years they were mostly of the first kind, but familiarity breeds a sort of comfort, even when you decide to self-relegate to a single room for the rest of your life, so that the cursed entity you bound yourself to can never be unleashed upon the world.
There's a little kitchen, a little studio, even a fancy area designed to have tea.
The warlock and his monster are having a cup each right now, sitting from one another, having a civil conversation. They don't forget easily their roles, but an external observer would have trouble framing Meister as their captor, and Monster as his tormentor.
The warlock is grateful that today Monster decided to respect his space, rather than hang by his shoulders like a monstruous mantle; perhaps it's true even for Monster, that familiarity bred comfort.
«We're not as vicious as we used to be» Observes Monster, almost amusedly. When it sips from its cup, the action is silent and polite.
Meister is not surprised its thoughts are echoing his own. After eleven years of living forcibly together, they are regrettably in tune.
«Are you complaining?»
«It's a mere observation»
«We can't have much. Peace is a start» Says Meister back, looking down at the caramel-colored liquid.
«We could have everything»
«If only we could get out of here»
«If only we could get out of here» Agrees Monster. Its temptations and Meister's threats are an old song and dance, and neither of them is as irked as they should be of chirping that tune anymore.
«Except we can. It's all in your hands» Resumes Monster
«I can. You cannot» amends Meister «You can't because I won't allow you. I will not because I refuse to let you loose on the world»
«Don't you miss what is outside? You've gone almost blind sitting here without ever seeing the sun». Monster's voice is charming, in its own way, with a buzzing, raspy quality to it that is dangerous and endearing. A faraway swarm of bees.
«Of course I do» Says the man, chastisingly. Meister is using the tone of voice that he used for his children, when they were much younger and asked for something they knew they couldn't have. Too much sweets, staying awake too late past their bedtime.
«One minute. You could peek your head out and be back before anyone could even notice. Just a flight of stairs and you could prepare your daughter's breakfast up there, see her put on her little backpack, and go out of the door»
«Ah, you know me well. What I wouldn't give...»
«Not even the effort of a couple steps it seems». Monster derides him, its voice becomes mean, like every time it gets impatient. It doesn't like to be denied.
Meister misses the outside world. He misses being able to follow his children out of the room, to be sure that they are doing alright. They're everything to him.
After school they will bring him news from their day, and ingredients for him to prepare them a meal. Sometimes they surprise him with a book haul, magic or not. After all, all books are magic in their own way. Even the pitifully ugly ones, those he can read for his kids aloud and laugh with them about, even those can create stories and fond memories.
He would die for his son and daughter. He doesn't even need to question that; which is why just waiting in a room doesn't seem so bad compared to the alternative.
Meister puts down his cup on the elegant tea table in front of them and rises from his seat.
«Are you done?» Asks the man, hinting at the tea.
«Never» answers the creature, referring to something else entirely.
They still understand each other, with no need for further explanations.
Meister gets both of their cups and goes to the sink to rinse them. He makes pancakes in silence. Their delicious smell somehow mixes well with the one that already permeated the room.
A series of little quick steps patters down the stairs, and both Meister and Monster raise their heads at once, as hares that perceive the presence of an hunting dog.
It's not a predator. It's Danni, the warlock's daughter; she's only twelve years old, and she looks minuscule with her red backpack on.
The creature is nearest, so Danni greets it first, with a kiss on the cheek.
«Hi, Dad's Monster!»
«Hello there, sweetheart»
«Hi Dad!». She trots over to her father to plant a kiss on his cheek as well.
«Hello, little possum». He hands her a dish with the pancakes and she squeals happily.
«Awww, you're the best, Dad!»
«Is Phantom coming down?»
«Yeah, in a minute»
«He will be late for school» he says, making a face, and picks up a smartphone that's nestled between a patch of black candles and knitting equipment. He needs to keep himself busy.
Phantom, his elder son, joins them after being summoned through texting. He's seventeen, strong and handsome, with dark hair and his father's blue eyes.
He's not nearly as affectionate with the Monster, but greets him from afar, polite enough. He's not like Danni, who seems to have an innate fascination for everything that could be considered scary; besides, Monster was already there when she was a toddler, and they quickly grew fond of each other.
Familiarity.
Before his kids go, Meister checks that Francis, the artifact doll he gifted his daughter when she was five, is still working fine, and controls that all the hidden sygils in Phantom's pockets and backpack work.
Both of his children accept a hug and kiss him on the cheeks again before they leave for school, and it takes all the willpower their father has not to go after them.
Sometimes he thinks that he's already descended into madness a long time ago. If he screamed nonsense at the walls and tried to fight Monster, maybe, if he acted insane in an insane situation, there could still be hope for him. Instead, he goes to sit on the couch and lets Monster approach him from behind, and put its chin on his shoulder to look at the book he has opened.
He lets it take a pancake from his pile and munch on it.
Meister had several grimoires he intends to re-read, but this time he just picked up a collection of entertaining spooky tales.
«One day I'll get out of here anyway» Says Monster, looking at the pages. The children's visit must have calmed it down, because there's no meanness in its voice now. «And when I do, what will you have gained from all of it? A life of deprivations, of us sinking our teeth into each other, and then I'll just slit your throat for your troubles».
Meister makes a non-committal noise, just enough to be polite and make the other know he was listening.
«Perhaps» The man concedes, putting on his reading glasses «Or perhaps I'll find a strong enough banishing spell first, and you'll be the one left with nothing but a handful of years trying to inflict mysery on others, before you get sent to oblivion»
«And I'll be free of you» they say at the same time.
Monster goes around the couch to sit down, comfortably close to the warlock. They both read together, in silence. Their reading speed was almost matching, but Meister was just slightly quicker: Monster liked to go back and re-read the paragraphs it had enjoyed. The man flips the page only when he knows that both are done.
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