The rain poured onto the streets. A man stared out of his dark house at the puddles that formed. His shining blue eyes couldn't help but pick out the various people that passed by, using hats to keep dry. The man turned to his fireplace, where the fire had gone out. He shivered at the thought of the dropping temperatures. However, the cold would never affect him strongly.
The man's brother died a while back. There was some kind of sickness that went around. His brother caught it and didn't make it. The boy was only five, and his older brother was ten. The two boys were close. They were best friends... and both of them dreaded parting. But the man's problem was that he kept going. He never aged. He seemed to be nineteen forever... and over hundreds of years, he watched the few people that were close to him pass. He tried to keep from befriending people, or even talking to them as a result.
Thoughts raced through his mind as he saw a man outside fall in the rain. The man outside pounded his fists on the ground and cursed angrily. He turned and caught glance of the blue eyes of the man in the house. The man outside stood and ran to the door. He knocked quickly.
The man in the house sighed and went to the door. He opened it.
"Good Evening," he said to the man outside.
"Good evening, may I enter? Pay no mind to that, I am entering regardless," said the man as he entered from the rain. "What are you called?" he asked as he pushed his way into the house. The owner of the house furrowed his brow and shut the door. He took note to the other man's eccentric accent. He clearly didn't originate in that town - or even that country.
"I am called Alfred... Why have you entered my house without proper permission? From where are you?" asked the owner. The other man let out a chuckle.
"Many questions have we," he taunted. "Ah, I am from a magical place called England-"
"-Magical?-"
"And I am called Arthur. I entered your house because it was cold in the rain. Also, I found it convenient because I have not a place to go. You are a bit dense, no?"
"I am certainly not dense! I have been alive for much longer that you," Alfred said angrily. Arthur chuckled again.
"Do not try to flatter me! Might I say, your name is quite interesting. What was your mother thinking?" asked Arthur as he crossed his arms. Alfred's brow furrowed once again. He just looked to the ground and shook his head. He walked past and into the kitchen area.
"Would you like a drink?" he asked through the doorway. Arthur's eyes narrowed.
"I'll make you a drink. I need you to get a few spices and herbs," responded Arthur as he walked to the kitchen. Alfred looked to Arthur quizzically. This man, Arthur, just entered my home... he called out upon my mother. He called out upon me. Now, he wants to use my herbs and spices to make some kind of drink. I dread trusting this man... but something intrigues me about him. I have a weird feeling that I can't explain. Fear? Interest? Perhaps...
"If you insist," said Alfred, shaking his head. I will let him stay... I want to know what exactly he is doing and why... and maybe I'll learn what this weird feeling is.
