A/N: Hey guys! No plot progress this week. I'm tired, I'm swamped at work, I haven't had a chance to properly finish the chapter that was supposed to go after the last one. HOWEVER, I have this little thing that was waiting in my bottom drawer so to speak to be published on Halloween. And well, that's now! Enjoy this little out-of-context extra chapter.
Amelija settled down by the table in the kitchen/living room/all-purpose room, taking her book and a glass of water. The night was hot and humid; after trying to fall asleep and jolting up in sweat for a few hours she decided to finally end her agony and give up. She opened White fang and tried to focus her overheated, tired mind, humming a song softly enough that no one would hear her. Or no one should have heard her, but someone apparently did. She was just starting to get involved and lose sight of her surroundings when the door to Erik's room opened quietly and a tall, lanky figure walked over calmly and slowly before settling down on a chair across from her. He looked at her with silent curiosity, unmoving for a few moments.
Amelija, completely frozen, stared into the eyes that shone deep from the middle of absolute nightmarish horror that caught her completely off guard, and stopped singing.
The yellow eyes from sunken, dark-encircled sockets looked at her half- open with relaxed innocence and a black mass of hair hung strangely endearingly from his head, brushing against his cheekbones. If it wasn't for that, she wouldn't be entirely certain if the face she was staring at belonged to a living man. Skin was stretched across bony, jutting cheekbones and then wrinkled across sunken cheeks; the face seemed to have very little tissue on it, resembling a patch of skin pulled over a skull, with a thin, narrow, bony nose in the center that lacked cartilage in places. The skin itself was also… wrong somehow, so thin it was nearly translucent with visible veins and giant patches of what seemed to be scar tissue. Raised scars, sunken scars, mangled skin and discoloration, scars that looked to be ancient, a decade old at least, but seemed somehow still very much alive.
The dim candlelight and the sharp shadows it cast weren't too kind to him, either. She felt a pang of sorrow beneath her terror. He held out one of his wrists - also covered in mangled, scarred skin - and showed it to her.
"How does it look?" he asked in French.
Amelija stared, petrified, scared out of her mind. She felt like she was in a dream - or a story, one of those horror stories her cousins used to tell under bedsheets on stormy nights, where you encounter a monster alone in the dark and it kills you if you say the wrong thing - what was the right thing to say here? The people in those stories usually died anyway.
What kind of madness is this? Where is Alina? Is she alright?
Silence reverberated thunderously in the room, making her claustrophobic, making her sick.
"Is it better?" he continued. "I think it's healed. Please tell me, Antoinette, I can't bear to look at it myself."
"It's… it's healed", Amelija managed, also speaking in French. His eyes looked strangely clouded.
"The rot is gone", he said. "I thought it was part of me."
"Uh…" she couldn't think of anything to say to that. What does one say to that?
"I think", he continued, "I think you healed me. Potatoes on a plate on a table. And peas, scattered over the floor." he sighed. "The rot inside is still here. That rot might be forever."
Amelija nodded slightly, staring at him wide-eyed, too scared to either agree or disagree. One wrong step might lead to disaster, but the place I'm standing on isn't crumbling yet. Best to stay here.
"You're so silent", he remarked. "You're always telling me I should talk more. So I came here to talk."
"I never said - that is", Amelija coughed a little, catching up to what was going on. "What did you want to talk about?"
"I don't know", he said with calm innocence. "What do people talk about?"
"Boring things, mostly", Amelija replied the first thing that came to mind. "But I don't think you're the kind of person who talks about boring things."
"Do you think so? Things are boring", he said. "Often. Most of the time. And then sometimes, they are very sharp."
"That's… technically not untrue", she said slowly. "What things are sharp?"
"White fangs. Darkness. Your eyes", he said. "Scary."
Amelija felt kind of offended that it was her eyes that were scary in this situation.
"What do you want from me?" she asked, getting slightly desperate.
"Nothing", he replied with slight confusion. "I don't want anything, I'm just here. Erik wants things. I just want to live."
"Are you not Erik?" she asked, feeling herself getting panicked. She was starting to think again this wasn't some benign sleepwalking, but something more.
"Usually I am, but not right now", he said.
"And now you are?"
"Just a ghost."
"Ah."
Amelija endured one more moment of silence before she decided she might as well ask what she wanted to ask, seeing as she wasn't entirely sure she would get out of this alive anyway.
"What happened with the girl?" she blurted out.
"The girl? That girl?", he repeated slowly. "Erik wanted her. I didn't care. But he wanted her so badly he thought he would die of it, so I had to get her. I just wanted to live."
"And now?" she asked. "Would you do the same again?"
"Now he wants to live, so I don't have to."
"And if he didn't? If she left?"
"He might die. But he'd surely die if I hurt her", he said with the same dreamy serenity. "She sees me in passing, shadows and words she doesn't understand. He won't let me get her if he can't get her himself. So it's all up to her. It's making him nervous."
"I… I see", Amelija said. She was fifteen kinds of fed up with this conversation, but she didn't dare say the wrong thing in case she upset him and woke him up.
Something told her he wouldn't be this calm if that happened.
The door opened again, and Alina came out, calling her silently over with a gesture of her hand.
"Don't worry", she said barely audibly in Croatian. "It's alright, come here."
"I'll be right back." Amelija stood up, very slowly, and walked across the room, halfway expecting him to lunge at her. But he did nothing - he just sat peacefully, his elbow on the table and his head resting on his hand, and patiently waited for her.
"What in God's name is going on?" She hissed as she reached Alina.
"Nothing", she waved her hand. "He's just sleepwalking. It started recently. Slightly confusing, but it's better than the nightmares he used to have. What did he say?"
"Just nonsense", Amelija shrugged. She wasn't one to betray her friend in a moment of embarrassment.
"That's alright. I'll just get him back." Alina walked over slowly to the ghost, and sat on the table next to him.
"Darling", she said, moving a strand of hair from his forehead. "would you like to come with me?"
"To America?" He asked, switching over seamlessly to English.
"Sure", she smiled. "Anywhere in the world you want."
"I've never been anywhere. He doesn't like the world."
"That's not a problem. We're going somewhere nice."
"He wants to go, but he doesn't want you to know", he admitted. "Too proud."
"Why?" She tilted her head slightly.
"I don't know. I don't really understand… pride. Or want."
Amelija watched the whole exchange with a distance. Even in the dim light, she could see his expression softening a little when he looked at Alina.
"Well, but he is asleep right now", Alina said. "So you can come with me. He's too proud for his own good. He has no idea what he wants."
"An adventure", he nodded. Alina stood up, taking his hand as she stifled a laugh. This was all too endearing for her. The ghostly figure followed after her, stopping in front of Amelija again.
"White fangs and pride", he said to her, again in French. "I don't understand."
"Alright", she narrowed her eyes at him. She was starting to suspect he was learning how to mock her even in his sleep.
"Do you understand? I think you don't", he remarked, disappearing soundlessly into the darkness of the room as Alina closed the door, mouthing silently "thank you" at her.
A minute later, as Amelija settled down to read again, the door opened one more time with Alina's head peeking through.
"I don't suppose I have to tell you never to mention this again - "
"Don't insult me", Amelija hissed.
A/N: So it might seem like the point of this chapter was to finally describe what Erik looks like (which, well, I did want to try my hand at), but the only plot-relevant part of this is actually the re-appearance of the ghost, and how Erik's restless sleep is switching over from horrible nightmares to... something else. I wonder if that'll be important later? And, what does the fact the ghost feels bold enough to actually speak mean for Erik's inner life and his personal development? hmm... Anyway, have a spooky halloween, cheers guys
