Dolce

"I live here alone, and am still adjusting to the variations in time, reading the sun and the moon and how much one lingers longer than the other." Archebold pulled a stool and sat across from Remi as he sliced more of the sausage, reaching up the grab a spicier variation and slicing that as well. "I've no obligations to anyone or anything anymore. Freedom in its purest form." Archebold remarked with a smile and soft chuckle. "It is lonely here, but after years of forced associations and servitude, solitude has proven to be...welcome." To his other question, Archebold paused in thought as he held a slice of the spicier sausage on his knife for Remi to lean over and taste. "I've had nothing but time on my hands. Time and opportunity for what? I have no idea...for the first time in my life I have no idea what it is I'm meant to do, what I'm supposed to be. A clean slate...so I create. I've spent nearly a generation taking and taking...I thought perhaps I would find some solace in creating. So I scavenged, I cooked...and found some remnants of peace in the process." He neglected to mention murdering two natives that discovered him, as well as the previous resident of this tomb, and the holder of the violin he refurbished. "Your accent is charming." Archebold remarked with a smirk. Dark, doll-like lifeless eyes bore into the alchemist's. "You have sad eyes...not to imply that is how you feel, but they are...soulful, but absent of life. You've either lived a life of love and loss or absent of love entirely. Would you care for a glass of wine?" Archebold reached beneath the counter and rested a dusted bottle on the counter with a glass for Remi. "No idea how long it's aged...but it survived, and thus, must be enjoyed by someone not myself." archebold Death is not a defeat. It is a cure.