Bedraggled and exhausted
Continued from here.
He popped away from the nasty shard, thrown at him with angry skill just on time, and was transported not in his hut, no, but at the Mansion, in the common room, and a dozen hours later in time, mind you.
Why? Because Merlin lost control over that last sortilege, and when he messes up, he doesn't do that halfway. Having used a lot of focus to do what he just did, he wasn't able to pinpoint his location. And so he is laying on the sofa, plopped in an uncharachteristicly unceremonious fashion.
His eyes are half closed, blood is drying under his nose, and his hands are bruised. His shape is that of the wood hermit.
He could use some love, right now. Seriously.
He popped away from the nasty shard, thrown at him with angry skill just on time, and was transported not in his hut, no, but at the Mansion, in the common room, and a dozen hours later in time, mind you.
Why? Because Merlin lost control over that last sortilege, and when he messes up, he doesn't do that halfway. Having used a lot of focus to do what he just did, he wasn't able to pinpoint his location. And so he is laying on the sofa, plopped in an uncharachteristicly unceremonious fashion.
His eyes are half closed, blood is drying under his nose, and his hands are bruised. His shape is that of the wood hermit.
He could use some love, right now. Seriously.