Arthur Kirkland, a man of 21 and an aspiring author. He enjoys tea, gardening, cooking [though he shows no talent], and silence. Today he sits at a solitary table, a pure white tablecloth smoothing the surface, candle in a globe-shaped holder centered on the table next to a lonesome rose in a glass vase. He sat, captivating emerald eyes fixated
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But he didn't say anything--he wasn't exactly close to Arthur or anything. Perhaps he was brooding. Or doing something he didn't want to get involved in. (He had the vague memory of candles having something to do with magic--to which he certainly wanted to involved in.) But it would feel strange to simply leave him without any acknowledgement.
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http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aMzgVshG6CI
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