In Which Yvanette Spins the Vicious Cycle

December 13, 1191

"Well, well!" Deian's voice had an underlying cackle laced with alternating layers of ice and fire. Yvanette hadn't been sure what sort of creature to expect he was, and whatever else about him startled her, that voice was not a surprise. "I must say, one of your kind is welcome company these days. It's nice to have a break from placating the Anvil Dragon."

"Anvil Dragon?" Yvanette asked more for want of some distraction from his nudity than out of genuine interest.

"Yes. She lives in a cave in the mountains near here. Only wakes up about once a century, but when she does, it's to drop an anvil on some unpleasant person who's failed to live up to her standard of ethics. It shouldn't be much more than a few months now; she's taken to inhaling sheep between snores." His cloudy eyes rolled to the back of his head--or, she guessed they did, though without distinct pupil or iris or sclera, it was difficult to say. "Last time this happened, she bit my arm off. Lucky thing I can regenerate, really. Anyway, you're a welcome change of pace. I take it your father has no idea you're here?"

Her father thought she was at Sevvie's. It was a risky excuse, given her father's friendship with his father, but she didn't have any other friends to choose from. "You know who I am, then?"

"I know who everybody is. Tell me, how is your father these days?"

"How do you know my father anyway?"

"I'm sorely tempted to tell you, as I'm sure your knowledge of the details would drive him mad, but the fact remains that I can think of much more amusing ways for you to unearth that bit of ancient history." He smirked. It was an ugly and cruel smirk, but at least it was something to look at above his waist. "But I'm guessing you're not here to talk about your father. You still haven't made any progress on that little issue of yours, have you?"

Yvanette bit her lip. God, she hated talking about it. She hated thinking about it. She hated mere acknowledgment of it, even in the confines of her own head. "I'd have better things than seeking you out if I had."

"Interesting! The human obsession with normalcy ruins so many lives, doesn't it? A girl of your age ought to have friends, maybe a sweetheart... but no, you are very much alone."

"I don't need you pointing that out! What I need is some idea of how to get this to stop, and if you can't be helpful to me, then I'll--I'll--"

"You'll what?"

"I haven't quite figured that out yet, but I'll be very angry!"

"No--I daresay you'll be disappointed more than angry. But I do believe I know what your problem is." He folded his arms across his bare chest. One bicep bore would appeared to be a very large fang mark. "You are entirely and without doubt convinced that it is, indeed and fully, a problem."

Hadn't he just said it, though? About the human obsession with normalcy? "But as long as I can't control it, it can only be a problem."

"And you won't control it as long as it's only a problem. Vicious cycle, isn't it?" Deian shrugged. She doubted he'd say any more, and she'd come here for nothing. "Good luck with that. Now, if you don't mind, I really need to find another sheep."

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