(no subject)
He's been there for a long time. A millenia or two, perhaps, or is it a bit more? Merlin doesn't remember - he stopped counting, because as time went by, he lost touch with its impassible flow, and rather become engrossed in the going-ons of the place, enough to observe the going-ons at the Mansion without exciting himself, or without getting involved.
He may have gone unnoticed by many: his usual shape is rather inconspicuous, though he now refrains to shift into flies in general, and around mice around the ladies - he may not die of a good smack, but the migraines are most inconvenient. No, usually, he is a little spider in a discreet corner, a bird on a nearby branch, a whisper of confidence. Not invisible, no, by any means, but barely there. This kind of peace has suited him for a long time, and when Nimue came to the Mansion, he hid, more than usual, for her presence troubled him in ways inadmissible.
But now Merlin is done with hiding, or somewhat in need of interaction, and so he has opted to make himself visible at long last. Thus he sits in the kitchen, his hands around a warm cup of tea, his long pipe smelling of tobacco and clove in the morning mist. He's picked his usual appearance this day: a strong middle-aged man whose long brown hair, streaked with gray, melts into the earth tones of his robe. He is in a good mood, a little mischievous, and hums to himself gleefully.
Typist: Merlin, from the Arthurian Legend. Wiki is updated, etc, enjoy.
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