When Albedo first found you passed out in the snow, he thought you were a human. Or, more accurately, he thought you were a corpse.

The frigid Dragonspine air should have produced visible puffs of breath from a living person, but there was nothing. You weren't breathing. Kneeling beside you, he examined your still form more closely and soon realized he was wrong in both his assumptions.

He noted that there was no sign of decay, no warmth—yet there was something undeniably artificial about your stillness. You weren't breathing because, quite simply, you weren't alive in the human sense.

Right, you were neither human nor corpse, he figured. You were a puppet, a synthetic being, much like himself in some ways. His eyes narrowed in intrigue, his gaze locked onto your unconscious form.

How curious...

The cold, then, wasn't the reason you were unconscious. So what was?

Determined to help and driven by an insatiable curiosity, Albedo carefully lifted you and carried you back to his campsite, a place slightly warmer and more protected from the elements. As he set you down on a wooden table, the better lighting revealed more details. Scars and marks adorned your body. They were not the gentle traces of scientific curiosity but rather brutal, harsh evidence of forced experimentation. The apparent inhumanity of the experiments, spoke of someone with little regard for the well-being of their subjects.

There was only one person he could think of—Dottore.

Albedo had heard of the Harbinger's methods, but seeing the evidence of such cruelty up close was unsettling. He frowned, a mix of concern and apprehension clouding his usually calm demeanor. What has he gotten himself into?

His hand reached down, almost reflexively, to touch a mark on your skin, a mixture of sympathy and scientific curiosity guiding his movements. But before he could delve deeper, you woke up.

Fear.

That was the first thing he noticed as you instantly sat up and backed away into a corner.

By the Archons, you looked absolutely terrified of him. And no wonder—given the lab, the equipment, and the fact that he had set you down on a table that could easily be mistaken for an operational one. You probably thought he was going to continue the torment you had previously endured.

Albedo sighed inwardly, realizing his mistake. "There is nothing to fear," he began gently, his voice as soothing as he could manage. "My name is Albedo. I'm an alchemist." He offered you a warm, gentle smile, hoping it would convey his sincere intentions. "I found you passed out outside my campsite and brought you here to recover."

He could see the gears turning in your head, the instinct to flee or fight still very much alive. He stayed a respectful distance away, not wanting to invade your space any more than he already had. Clearing his throat, he softened his tone even further. "Do you have a name?"

He had many questions, but first and foremost, he needed to calm you down, to make sure you felt safe.