Late, but never too. (Mircea)

[Habren Ashe]

The witch moved about the small room she'd quietly had built off of their city stronghold with a soft smile playing over her lips, fingers running over the edges of the stone work and items carefully laid out, brand new and just begging for use. It was never easy keeping such secrets or coming up with reasons they should stay somewhere else instead of at their apartment within the Watchtower, but over several lifetimes together now and in light of the time of year, Habren knew he wouldn't question her... much.

Though she had been returned from the dark realm in plenty of time for their usual celebrations, something had simply felt... different this year. The sharp, sudden knife of separation had created within her a strange energy, where in prior times, the woman might scarcely be able to remove herself from Mircea's side, nor he from hers. This time, though, they had almost immediately involved themselves with a raid that relied, in part, upon their ritualing skills, rather than caught up in weeks-long isolation together, making up for the lost time and trying to get past a return to the place she hated most. The raid, for its own part, had been a much-needed reminder that there was work for them to be done within the City they had made into home so long ago, and a reassurance that nothing could or would ever keep them down for long, but Habren had longed for a quieter time together. Even though she took it as a sign that the darkness was perhaps not so traumatic as it had once been, once the confusion and worry for her blood had faded away. But occupied with the Fae and her thoughts as she was for a few more days and nights, Yule was quickly upon them, with seemingly little thought and little conversation as to plans.

This was unheard of between the couple; Yule was special for a number of reasons, significant to their history and always to be celebrated, no matter what was taking place all around them. Not least among those reasons was, in Habren's memory, one of the first stretches of time she had been able to keep it together for long enough to celebrate with him, to gift him something she had taken her time with, truly thought about, and decided he might like. Habren hadn't know it then, but it was one of the first indications she had been able to think about more than her own whims and hedonistic desires for blood, fire, and death in her first months of immortality. To actually think more of Mircea, consciously and with full awareness, than she otherwise might have done, which in turn provided him with necessary confidence that she was, at last, getting back to her old self once more.

And so, late as it was, Habren had had the forge installed for him, in the few days they had been home and hunting once more in the Caverns, as both gift and reminder that even in the chaos, she hadn't forgotten him or the holiday they held among the most dearly important. She had thought for ages on what he might like this year, and had at last been able to make it a reality despite everything that had stood against them. An ornate key hung upon a simple chain was wrapped carefully in a small box just after she locked the door to the newest addition, and went back upstairs to await his return.