Malvor swirled his coffee absently, eyes locked on Anastasia with a predator's patience.
"So, Annie honey drop," he purred, "since we're in such a sharing mood, why don't you tell me more?"
She raised a brow, unimpressed.
"About what?"
"Oh, I don't know… anything."He leaned forward, grin sharp."You keep so much to yourself, Annie pookie, and that's just tragic. I simply must fix it."
Anastasia sighed through her nose.
"I already told you my favorite color, my favorite food, and about my runes. What else do you want?"
Malvor smirked.
"Well, darling, what's something no one knows about you?"
Her fingers tapped idly against her coffee cup.
"No one?"
"No one," he confirmed.
She was quiet for a moment.Then, surprisingly, she answered.
"I like thunderstorms."
Malvor blinked.
"Really?"
She nodded, eyes distant.
"The sound. The way the air changes. The way it feels… unpredictable."
Malvor grinned.
"Oh, Annie starlight, are you telling me you enjoy chaos?"
She snorted softly, shaking her head.
"I enjoy storms. You are not a storm."
"No, no, no, sweetheart, I beg to differ. I am exactly a storm, just far more charming and less wet."
Anastasia shot him a flat look.
"You are exhausting."
"And yet," he mused, "you're still talking to me. Now, tell me more, Annie lovebug. Favorite season? Least favorite god? Weirdest dream?"
She gave him a look, but he only grinned wider, wiggling his fingers as if pulling the answers from her.
"Come now, Annie sugarplum, humor me."
"My least favorite god?"Anastasia considered for a moment."Aerion. His runes hurt the most. They were deep. My entire right leg. They took a long time. That's my personal experience. His priests were all rude and arrogant."
She sighed, fingers tracing the rim of her coffee cup.
"From what I know, he is the same. Rude and arrogant."
Malvor burst into laughter, head tilting back as he slapped his knee.
"Oh gods, yes. He is insufferable."He cackled."The man acts like he's been chiseled from divine marble and gifted to the world for all to admire. It's disgusting. He's all honor this and valor that, completely unbearable. He even polishes his own armor, Annie. His own armor."
Anastasia smirked slightly.
"Sounds exhausting."
"It is," Malvor agreed, shaking his head dramatically before pointing at her."See? You understand."
She rolled her eyes, but there was amusement in them.
"My favorite season? Summer. I love being outside in the evenings. But I do love spring and fall days."
She tilted her head slightly.
"What about you?"
Malvor grinned, stretching like a lazy cat preparing for an elaborate answer.
"Ah, Annie-petal, that is a complicated question."He gestured vaguely, as if explaining the meaning of the universe."You see, I prefer certain aspects of each season. I enjoy the chaos of winter storms, the unpredictability of ice and snow. But spring brings renewal, which can be amusing—watching mortals think they're getting a fresh start only to fall back into their same old patterns."
He tapped a finger against his chin, eyes bright with thought.
"Summer? Overrated. But I will say, late summer nights? Perfect for trouble. And autumn? Well, autumn is a season of mystery. The air shifts, the days shorten, people grow more reckless, and recklessness, darling, is the perfect ingredient for chaos."
He took a sip of his coffee, looking far too pleased with himself.
Anastasia simply shook her head.
"You could have just picked one."
"Ah, but where's the fun in that?"
She sighed and took another drink.
"My weirdest dream? Like a sleeping dream or something I wish for?"
Malvor's smirk faltered at the unexpected question.
"Annie, my sweet, both dreams. What is the strangest one you've had while asleep… and your weirdest dream?"
Anastasia set her cup down.Her fingers rested lightly against the table, her posture as composed as ever.
But there was something in her eyes.Something older.Something buried.
"When I was a little girl, about seven, I dreamed the exact same dream for months."
Malvor leaned forward slightly, intrigued despite the shift in the air.
"Every night, I would fall asleep. And in my dream, I would wake up in my bed."
Her voice was even.Too even.
"A shriveled, horrible monster would enter my room… and eat my legs. Starting with my feet."
Malvor's fingers tightened around his cup.
"I felt every single bite."
Her hands flexed once before going still again.
"He was slow. He chewed through my bones, gnawed the meat from my calves, stripped my thighs. It took hours. I would scream, cry, beg, but I could never move. My body wouldn't listen to me."
A shudder ran through her.
"The next morning, in my dream, I would wake up whole again. So I tried to tell my mother."
She exhaled through her nose, shaking her head.
"She would always smile and tell me he was our friend."
Malvor's stomach twisted.
"So one night, I hid behind the door. I waited."
Her fingers tapped lightly against the wood of the table.Rhythmic.Controlled.
"When he walked in, I jumped out."
A pause.
"He ran."
Malvor tilted his head.
"I was so excited. I ran to tell my mother what I had done. How I had scared him away."
Another breath.
"But when I walked into her room… he was there."
Malvor stilled.
"Eating her legs."
Her voice didn't change.But something fractured beneath the words.
"I stood in the doorway. I watched as he crawled over her, eating his way up. Slowly. The same way he had eaten me."
"My mother turned her head toward me… and she smiled."
"Her eyes were dead. Empty. She looked right at me and said, 'He is our friend.'"
Silence.
"Then she convulsed and died."