Chapter Text
it isn’t every day one finds a woman frozen into the tombs of Sal Vindangyr.
naturally, as Albedo is the only one to have set foot here as of late (excluding the two other expedition teams led by him this past year), he knows this wasn’t someone else’s doing. there’s very little room for someone to have survived all this way without him taking notice, let alone bring another person and bury them so efficiently.
the corpse is perfectly preserved, was his first thought. then he realizes it isn’t a corpse at all and he is staring at a real living, breathing body.
the snow shifts around your chest with every shallow inhale. the frost, holding your eyelids closed as if to blind you from the violence and fury of the world, contributes to the visage of a pristine and innocent appearance. you look like… an illusion, he thinks. chained to this prison of ice and snow, you exist only in this solitude, this astonishing silence of an ancient basin of loneliness. you are completely unaware of the carnage outside, smited millennia ago by the nail from the heavens. simply sleeping. not a care in the world.
something within Albedo stirs as he looks at you, frozen into the collapsed wall at a forty five-degree angle. you look like you had just closed your eyes for a moment in a time long since passed. he is almost envious of your predicament- the very embodiment of peace. and then he realizes he’s been crouched in front of you for several minutes and he hasn’t taken any notes yet.
he pulls his weathered journal for field records only and scratches down what he sees. whatever emotion that is happening in his chest doesn’t matter for now; he just needs to get down the main points and then he can get back to his research. but of course, leaving a person here who is clearly alive isn’t exactly ethical. so he makes a note in the margins that a plan for a private excavation must be drawn up and subsequently assessed. safety comes first, after all.
and no matter who you are or might have been, it’s within reasonable interest to see your person be warmed up and properly cared for, no matter how delicate a process it might be.
you are warm when you wake up. incredibly warm- in fact, so warm that you’re attempting to pull the nonexistent blanket off of you when you regain enough feeling in your limbs to do so.
groaning, you sit up in a haze of grogginess and tension, feeling the back of your throat clench as you fight against the insane stiffness in your joints. you have no read on just how long you’d been asleep for, but your body is telling you it’s been years, somehow. you blink open your eyes and find your surrounds to be completely unfamiliar, laying on some kind of makeshift bedframe.
nope, you’re not on a bedframe. you’re in a box. a literal wooden, coffin-sized box.
kicking away the piles of blankets you’re laying on, panic begins to set in as you realize you have no idea where you are or what you’re doing here. you whip your head around as sound registers; wind, snowfall, a campfire somewhere. there is an echo indicative of a cave. you’re in a cave.
yes, a cave, and a rather magnificently plain one at that. you’re near some tables with strangely colored potion vials and apparatuses you’ve never seen before. a faint bubbling accompanies the carnage of the messiness of scattered papers, stacked survival crates, and bookshelves holding both new and weathered tomes. and when you peer to the entrance, following the wafting scent of some luxurious kind of soup or broth or something, you spot a campfire, guarded by a figure in a chair.
the box (coffin?) creaks as your weight shifts, trying to get a better look at the person at the far end of the cave, towards its gaping maw that shelters you from what looks to be a raging blizzard outside. the person is leaned over a little, and you realize they’re probably asleep. their lack of motion is uncanny and almost unnatural. taking this as your hint, you lift your leg slowly over the side of the box and come to stand gently- your body still isn’t sure if it wants to continue sleeping or not- and you carefully, very carefully tread barefoot over the firm dirt floor to where the person sits.
closer inspection reveals that they are probably a man. his clothing is extravagant; a long coat dutifully decorated with symbols and chains at the waist, long gloves guarding his hands from the elements as he leans them over his knees. he appears dignified and deliberate even in his rest. for a moment you wonder how he sleeps like this, so you creep closer to try and get a look at his face through his ashen bangs.
your foot rolls over a rock and you let out a startled huff at the contact. similarly, the man’s figure jerks backwards all too quickly, as if he has just realized he’d fallen asleep before it was too late, and his head turns to stare back at you.
my, his eyes. a bright teal that reflects a calculated atmosphere. but you’re not focused on his unexpected beauty right now.
“you’re awake? goodness, my seal must have broken.”
your mouth is half-open in startle, trying to once again figure out what is going on. he shifts in his chair gently like any sudden movement will send you darting back into the shadows.
“i’m sorry, your- your what?”
“forgive me.” his voice is so gentle and kind at first, you almost can’t help but do as he says.
“i put a seal over your… um, box. it was to preserve you and keep the elements from harming you.” he clears his throat awkwardly, “-a box was all i could manage. i apologize for the lack of accommodations.”
“it’s fine,” you blurt out, your manners kicking in before your logic does.
the man smooths over a part of his hair like he’s just realized he might not be 100% presentable.
“might i ask- what is your name?”
name. you have one of those, right? so you answer him cautiously.
“Y/N?” he repeats it, checking his pronunciation through your expression.
there is a question burning in your throat that you’re too afraid to ask, even as he watches you carefully over the duration of your interaction. in the few seconds of conversation, you recognize that the man is… studying you. his eyes trace all across your figure like he’s trying to memorize every detail. his gentle tone is enough to disarm you, tell you that he isn’t a threat, even with the sword leaned up next to the desk over in the corner. you get the sense that he doesn’t mean you much harm.
“would you like some tea?”
you pause before you remember what tea is. following a nod, the man turns the other way and stands up opposite to you; then he walks to the far end of the cave to fetch said tea.
“what’s your name?”
with his back turned to you, he answers.
“you can call me Albedo.”