Chapter Text
It was late. The nightl sky was gloomy, not a single speck of starlight shining through the veil of clouds. It was eerily quiet; one couldn't imagine anyone would still be awake at this hour, and the noise inside the manor (rather, lack thereof) certainly backed that up. There were, however, the soft taps of thick, scarce raindrops hitting the window panes, and there was the sound of a quill tip scraping over a piece of parchment.
It was at this hour that the door to Emily's room opened, accompanied by the hushed down creaking of old hinges. She stifled a yawn and looked up. Who would be visiting her now, of all times? She shoved the herbal research she was working on to relax aside and turned her head - but she realized that she did not recognize the face that was staring at her through a mere crack in the door, backed up by a completely dark hallway.
Erm... oh. Her welcoming smile tightened and she quickly rose to her feet, standing as straight as a toothpick. That was one way to lose the sleepiness she had been working up for the past thirty minutes. "Good evening," she said.
The one visible eye of the stranger widened and for a moment, he seemed to pull back, as if he were startled. As if he hadn't expected her to have a voice at all.
Then, he opened the door a bit further. A tall, slender shape dressed in black, macabre-looking clothing that contrasted heavily with Emily's cozy interior bathing in candlelight, slipped into her room. Swiftly, he closed the door behind him. Gloved hands firmly pressed into the wood, and his head was lowered, as if he was afraid to be seen. There he remained, quiet for several minutes, and Emily fiddled with the poofy hem of her sleeve.
"You're the... the doctor, right?" he finally asked. His voice was everything of the soft, ghostly whisper that she had always expected of Aesop Carl instead, and with his sunken cheeks, and hair and skin alike as pale as the absent moon, he looked more like a spectral apparition than a living human being. His deeply set eyes were the shade of dull ruby, pupils tentatively watching Emily from underneath tired eyelids. It was difficult to estimate his age, though Emily didn't think he was much older than her.
Was this- was this the new survivor she had heard Fiona and Margaretha whisper about, earlier this evening? It could be. No, he had to be, who else with an unfamiliar face would invite themselves into her room unannounced like this? She doubted hunters could even set foot in the survivor side of the manor. And she hadn't seen anyone from the outside world in a very long time.
"Yes." Emily took a slow, deep breath. Oh, whoever it was, he was only looking for her profession, it seemed! Nothing to worry about; she was, of course, always available for potential patients. Even if it was the dead of the night and everyone else was already off to bed. She cleared her throat and raised her chin: "Yes, I am! You must be Mr Kreiss, is it not?"
"Mm." It wasn't much of a confirmation, but it wasn't denial, either. The man only averted his gaze, drifting over to the flickering flames of Emily's candles.
So this truly was the new survivor, the Grave Keeper. No wonder his clothes were so gloomy-looking! Emily took a step closer and for a moment considered holding out her hand for him to take, for further introduction, but he didn't seem like the kind of person who liked physical contact very much. In fact, he didn't seem to like her taking a step closer either. So, she took the same step back. "Right. Mr Kreiss! It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance. My name is Emily Dyer, perhaps you already know this?"
Andrew Kreiss said nothing.
Emily folded her hands in front of her nightgown, her eyes trailing towards the closed, guarded door a bit tentatively. Erm... right. Right. "So... how may I help you at this hour? I assume it is my service you want."
It felt a little awkward; he barely spoke, she had never seen him before, and here she was, standing before him in nothing but her nightgown, and her long, chestnut brown hair cascading down to her upper back. Her feet and ankles were bare, and she had no available means to further cover up out of decency. All in all, she was presenting herself in a way she rather would have reserved for her beloved exclusively. She wished he would have at least knocked!
At long last, Andrew stepped closer, his clothes barely rustling. His slow, hesitant movements suggested he was either very tired or very shy, perhaps both, and Emily felt a little uneasy, even if it was only because this was the very first time she'd met him. And he was quite tall. To her secret dismay, he did in fact keep approaching until he was only mere centimeters away from her, towering over her almost more than Aesop and Norton did - Norton primarily to flat-out bully her out of “confused affection”, as he liked to claim.
She tilted her head up, trying her best not to let him know that she felt uneasy. "Uh, alright, so-"
He raised a gloved finger and Emily immediately shut her mouth, her smile disappearing. But that finger was not actually meant to silence her; instead, Andrew's hand slowly moved over to his face. He tapped his cheek, right below his sleepy, ruby red eye. "Can you fix this?" he whispered. His gaze immediately traveled down, as if he were deeply ashamed of himself for even thinking of the question.
"What..?" Emily raised her eyebrows, cocking her head to the side in confusion.
Andrew's nostrils flared for a moment, but not in a very angry way. In fact, it was more like he was distressed, for some reason. "Can you fix this?" he repeated, an undertone of mild despair evident in his voice, and he tapped his cheek once more. "This. My skin, my hair, my eyes. You're a doctor and... Victor told me there is nothing you can't fix. That if I wanted something cured, I should come to you, because you are so good at what you do. So... can you fix it?"
Emily swallowed, her throat drying up like grass on a hot summer afternoon when she finally understood. She had only ever read about this condition, back in college; she had never actually seen a case of albinism in real life. That must be why it had slipped her mind for a moment, and why she remembered so little about it, to her great embarrassment. "Oh dear, I-" she started, clutching onto her nightgown.
What she did remember was that it wasn't something that could be cured, as it was caused by the passing down of recessive genes, not outside forces.
Andrew shook his head. His hands traveled down towards her, and a quiet gasp escaped Emily's lips when he rested them on her shoulders. His grip was careful at first, but it quickly grew surprisingly firm. "Please. This condition has been haunting me all my life." Was that... a crack in his voice? "I don’t want to be a monster anymore. I just want to be normal."
Oh dear. Oh dear.
Emily gulped. The psychological field was definitely not her area of expertise, and this was something quite big, mind you... but she didn’t want to just leave a patient hanging in a most vulnerable moment. Besides, she did manage to help Victor a while ago, didn’t she? He even called her a good doctor, and here he was, recommending her to a stranger! So who was to say she couldn’t do it again, even if this time around, there was a very personal situation directly involved?
".. I must inform you that your condition is genetic and therefore I cannot fix it. However, I will also inform you that you aren't a monster, Mr Kreiss,” she started, full of hastily collected confidence. “You were never, and never will be, a monster.”
The look Emily got in return was one of confused, slightly furrowed eyebrows and disappointment, and her heart nervously skipped a beat. The topic was very sensitive. There was no guarantee words were going to help here. "It is not your exterior that matters, nor what others think of you based on exterior alone. For as far as I’m concerned, it's how you see yourself, how you treat the world around you, and how you choose to live your life. The impact you leave on others through being who you are. You seem to be a very kind and enjoyable person, something one cannot simply whisk away from you." Was she doing the right thing? “And I for one do not think you are monstrous to look at. I find your eyes and your soft expression very pleasant, and your hair is lovely! If it's alright with you, I would like to get to know you. Perhaps we could be friends?”
Complete silence followed, and it was a silence in which Andrew did nothing but stare at her with the same furrowed eyebrows and disappointed ruby eyes.
Emily was beginning to understand that she likely could not bring him peace with just some words alone. This issue was complicated, and she could imagine the pain his situation had brought him through his life had roots that ran very deep - but she wanted to try, nonetheless. She smiled at him, one filled with nothing but warmth and welcome, and she placed her hand on the one he had settled on her shoulders.
She hoped she could let him see that there was nothing wrong with him as a person, and that it was not his fault that some people just couldn’t find it in themselves to be kind to one another. “Mr Kreiss, I-”
When he turned around, it was without a single word and without a single shift in his expression; he didn't even let her finish.
Emily’s heart sank meters down below when he pulled back and left just like he’d arrived, leaving her in an empty room to contemplate her actions as if she had committed yet another sin. She bit down on her lip. Her gaze didn’t leave the door for a good five minutes, secretly hoping he might come back to, well, maybe not express gratitude, but at least give her some form of acknowledgement. That her words had hit... something, whether it was what she had intended or something to tell her she had crossed the line.
However, he didn’t return. The hallway was quiet once more and the only sound that remained, was the dull tippy-tapping of the rain against the window.
“.. I suppose you still cannot help everyone, Ly- Emily,” she finally whispered to herself, with a heart still as heavy, leaning in to blow out the candles on her desk. “You can’t fix everything. I suppose you will once again have to hope you did not make... Well, that you did not... make it worse.”
She went to bed feeling nothing short of put in her place, as if the world wanted to remind her constantly that a road to redemption was not to be as easy as she wanted it to be. That there was always going to be something to shove her two steps down after climbing one higher. She barely knew whether to apologize to Andrew tomorrow or let it rest, and eventually, sleep made the decision to keep this question for the morning.
-
When she woke up the next morning with the intentions of apologizing profusely, and opened her door to leave for the day, Emily found a little basket carefully placed where she would see it. Inside of it sat a small bottle white wine, a purple flower she did not know the name of, and a note.
"Your words were not what I wanted to hear," it said, in Victor’s handwriting. "But I think I did need to hear them.
I would like to be friends. I think it would be good to have a doctor on my side. I would like you to keep seeing me as a kind, enjoyable person, as well - I am so tired of being a monster. It makes me happy that you do not see me as such. Victor also told me you slap the man with the weird candle hat sometimes, and I would like you to continue doing that as well.
Thank you.
- Andrew Kreiss"