Archebold was indeed curious about this new world he happened to find himself in. While others perhaps felt foreign, out of place...there was comfort, unexplained comfort he immediately felt. Perhaps it was the lack of tether to a sire, or the fruitful ignorance of locals unaware of what he was capable of...It had been a rather delectable education for him.
Even still, he had yet to formally announce his presence so openly, just strategic placements of his being...such was this present case. Dark, hollow eyes seemed to slither about like tantalized serpent as he foundRexanna during one of his exploration runs...and this did prove a rather interesting subject.
He had yet to reveal himself, muted steps followed into the ruins. Books? Archebold grinned, that was unexpected but a treasured discovery. He waited for Rexanna to lean against the wall as he leaned against his ivory walking stick.
Talk, she muttered, though he doubted she ever expected anyone to actually be around to listen.
He appeared at the remnants of a corridor, despite this world of dust and ruin, his suit remained impeccably cared for. Meticulously pressed and cleaned and seemed to fit his frame like a second skin.
"I normally don't pander to such simple demands...but I've been told there are fewer things as pleasing to me as the sound of my own voice...an overexaggeration." Archebold spoke, his voice retaining an even calm about it. Words weaved like silk, always meant to comfort.
Fingers closed over the lionshead knob of his stick as he leaned forward, tilting his head curiously at her book. "Do you take comfort words? Written or otherwise?"
Even still, he had yet to formally announce his presence so openly, just strategic placements of his being...such was this present case. Dark, hollow eyes seemed to slither about like tantalized serpent as he found
He had yet to reveal himself, muted steps followed into the ruins. Books? Archebold grinned, that was unexpected but a treasured discovery. He waited for Rexanna to lean against the wall as he leaned against his ivory walking stick.
Talk, she muttered, though he doubted she ever expected anyone to actually be around to listen.
He appeared at the remnants of a corridor, despite this world of dust and ruin, his suit remained impeccably cared for. Meticulously pressed and cleaned and seemed to fit his frame like a second skin.
"I normally don't pander to such simple demands...but I've been told there are fewer things as pleasing to me as the sound of my own voice...an overexaggeration." Archebold spoke, his voice retaining an even calm about it. Words weaved like silk, always meant to comfort.
Fingers closed over the lionshead knob of his stick as he leaned forward, tilting his head curiously at her book. "Do you take comfort words? Written or otherwise?"
