A Heart so Cold

archebold Fear is the price of imagination "Excuse me..." Archebold spoke quietly with a subtle grin as he stepped past Isla through the doorway and into her study, brushing against her was unavoidable, but he was always so curious. His mind thirsting for as much knowledge as it could hold. His own hands folded loosely behind his back as his walking stick swayed side to side like the tail of a curious dog. He had heard her question but chose not to answer just yet. Everything he ever did was always on his terms. How he spoke, where he appeared...few ever summoned him or pried knowledge from him without his approval of said questions. He looked over her books, thin fingers trailing along various covers and spines. "You acknowledge your, imperfections...for lack of a better term, and you adapted. Made what some would view as a short-coming, your asset. I hope you don't take offense to such an assessment..." Archebold continued turning briefly to Isla as he looked her over. "It is imperfection that allows us to evolve, improve ourselves. You are a better healer, a better person because everything you achieved in your life you worked for. Using nothing but your mind and the natural dexterity you have honed with your very own hands. There is a certain amount of pride you must feel in your work, pride no one would ever really understand...because it belongs solely to you it is apart of the path you forged for yourself." Archebold smiled as he turned to fully regard her, resting his walking stick against the desk as he leaned back and took a seat over the desk, taking a book and absently flipping its pages. "As for me...ignorance of youth." He responded candidly with a chuckle. "Imagine you are presented with the offer, to preserve your youth, your beauty...with the chance to become something greater than you are. Your strength, speed, ability to heal all amplified into the next step of evolution...would you consider the fine print of what was to come with it? The answer for me was no. I desired power. I desired strength, and fuel for my vanity. The cost would be great, or so some considered...the absence of pleasure, or siring a child. I suppose if I held a desire for a family it would effect me more but..." Archebold simply shrugged. "...never found something worth loving more than myself. Does that make me vane or self-reliant? I never know that answer...perhaps a little of both. You see the world differently when you don't live in constant fear of it. It's a sense of freedom that is...overwhelming. Beautiful even." The book would be placed down onto the desk as he quietly studied Isla and motioned her over. "Come here...I'll show you what I mean..." Had she hesitated he would smile that fanged smile, his voice always at a constant calm, an ease as if he truly believed in every word he said. "Please, I won't harm you. Had I the intention we would not be having this conversation."