There are certain known facts about vampires. They revile change. They are obsessive-compulsive. They are illogical. They are cursed. They will burst into flames in sunlight.
They are dying.
With less than a hundred vampires left in the world, Yas...
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Someone had disturbed the hoard.
It wouldn't have particularly bothered Yasuko, if it had been a few months ago—Min-ho was prone to sniffing where he wasn't wanted, under the guise of courting her. Breeze, as well, was all too eager to stick his cheery nose where it wasn't wanted. But since Sakura had gone silent, answering none of her emails, Yasuko had become increasingly agitated.
This was supposed to help, she thought, staring at her pile in dismay. It had helped, slightly, but knowing it had been disturbed made her anxiety skyrocket.
No tantrums. Don't panic. Don't scream.
She clenched the doorjamb, choking on the sudden rush of indignation.
Don't, the Formula reminded her.
She shoved it back down as much as she could. She would not let it control her, not in her house. Outside was a different matter, but in here, she was in control.
Red crept into the edges of her vision. Sakura would have insisted on a mantra to cope with the violation. Something to the effect of—they're just things, they don't matter, you aren't made of things, you don't need things. But those sorts of assurances wouldn't work on Yasuko.
They're just things.
They're my things.
At any other time, she would have let the anger consume her, but she'd worked so hard at appeasing the Formula of late. All of that would go to waste if she lost her temper. She could feel magic tapping at the door of her control, testing for weakness, and as much as she wanted to fight it, she would lose. She'd lost a hundred times already.
