Two of a Kind

Deep in the cellar of the manor, in a small room that had initially been bricked off until its discovery, Archebold, sleeves rolled a quarter of the way up was busying himself stitching up a body he had stuffed and preserved with salt, garlic, and mushrooms. Hanging it upside down so the blood would build. Allowing the mushrooms to absorb the fluids he could than use, perfectly seasoned. He hummed a classical melody, his stitching handled with ease as one would stitch a patch onto a sweater or jacket. As the ankles were fastened onto the hook hanging above, he heard the knock echoing through the halls above. Licking his fingers clean as he sealed and locked the iron door to his 'seasoning den'. Torch lights offered a warm bloom within the manor that appeared to be coming together. An apron had still been fastened around his waist. The color to his white buttoned shirt opened as he opened the door. At first, he appeared surprised that someone actually had the courage to seek him out...that someone being a healer of all people. Leaning against the corridor, Archebold would lick his thumb clean that still held a stain from his previous workings before addressing Isla . A fanged smirk greeting her. "I never really expect company...but it's certainly welcome." His voice held an allure to it as he looked over the healer. Thinking as he took the life from her neck, and the taste and pleasure that filled his bones...unforgettable. "How may I be of service..." He asked, assuming she had developed a need to be fed upon again, to feel that helplessness overtake her once more. archebold Death is not a defeat. It is a cure.