Eve and the Uncanny Ancestor

The sound of the front door opening was like a crack of thunder. I could feel the ground shake beneath my feet and the walls around me groan as they protested against their own weight. I heard footsteps, heavy and slow, thudding down the hall with each step, until they came to an abrupt stop right outside the door to my studio.

Lifting my brush from the canvas, I turned to greet my client.

He was a tall man, broad across his shoulders and narrow through his waist. His tunic was so black that it seemed to absorb all light from the room, leaving only a grey halo of undisturbed dust in its wake as he moved. The corners of his eyes were crinkled in what might have been a smile, or perhaps just a quirk of his lips; it was hard to tell where that line lay. The left side of his face bore a long scar, from brow to jaw, which seemed even more pronounced by the high contrast against his pallid skin. I wondered if it had been painful, but decided not to ask. His hair reached halfway down his back and was pulled back tightly into a ponytail at the nape of his neck. A pair of long horns protruded from either side of his forehead, curving slightly upwards before ending with sharp points: one black as night, one white as bone.

"I am Gernon," he said in a voice that sounded like stone grinding together deep underground: low and rough and rumbling with hidden power. "I am here for my portrait."

"Of course," I replied as I set down my brush and stood up to greet him. "My name is Eve." My hand reached out to shake his but fell short when he did not move towards me. Instead he took a small step backwards and bowed deeply at the waist, bringing one large fist up over his heart in greeting.

"It is an honor to meet you," he said, straightening back up when our introduction was complete. He made no move towards me and kept himself at least three paces away, maintaining eye contact with me despite the distance between us. Even though he had just entered the room, he already seemed settled into place; as if this were a place that he knew well and called home long before I ever set foot inside it.

"Likewise," I replied uncertainly. The air between us felt thick with something I couldn't quite put my finger on; something almost immediately familiar yet somehow foreign at once. Something like… expectation? But who could possibly know who I was? "Please sit down while we discuss your expectations." His posture relaxed at my words and he eased into one of the wooden chairs lined up against the wall closest to him without hesitation now that our conversation had begun in earnest.

When he turned away from me to look out the window, I quickly sought out one of the mirrors that hung on either side of the door so that I could take stock of myself before continuing; spattered paint and blackened fingertips aside, there didn't seem to be any immediate damage done when he had arrived. His entrance had been jarring at best; unsettling at worst—but then again it wasn't every day that you met someone who could make your house moan in pain whenever they entered it; albeit unintentionally on their part no doubt. Still, there was something about him that drew me towards him—that made me want to reach out and touch him despite myself—and I needed time alone to collect myself before meeting him again on equal terms instead of being caught off guard like this in front of him while he sat patiently waiting for me to return so we could continue our conversation together without interruption or interruption-avoidance on my part. There had been something hauntingly familiar about him when we first met; something that tugged at old memories buried deep within me even though we hadn't seen each other face-to-face before today—but now it felt like there was more than just familiarity present between us: it felt like family—or potential family perhaps: potential future family—and what little grip I still held on reality slipped further from me as each passing second passed uneventfully on its way towards eternity: would there be other children born into this world? Would they be mine? If so, would any of them have horns? Or would my children be different? Different how? And would those differences make them shunned by those around them or would they find themselves alone because they were too much alike for others? Alone… just like Gernon… Just like Gernon… Just like Gernon…