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[Outside of house 40, the young warlock is working ~~tirelessly~~doggedly at polishing a pair of boots. He sits on the top step, the left boot between his knees as he works with it. Merlin takes shelter underneath the porch and watches those who might walk by--envious of their relative freedom. His neckerchief has been tossed aside and--occasionally--it does get whipped from his side and sent reeling out into the path. This is when Merlin must stand up and chase after it. Why does he continue letting it drift off, then? Well...perhaps it's a welcome, planned break from boot polishing. Or perhaps he's just that daft.

Do feel free to help him one of these times, though. And he's also distracted by the journal open wide just behind him. Eventually, he muses:] The leaves are changing colours--I've never quite seen anything so lovely as when they do that. Tell me, will it get much colder?

[Here are the sounds of fingers being drummed anxiously. Against wood. Against stone. Against anything.] This is a good thing. Surely, this is good. Camelot needs him. And--[pausing, hesitant]--he needs Camelot. Far more than he needs Luceti.

[Merlin, and the extreme fool that the sometimes is, has unintentionally left his journal open as he frets over Arthur's disappearance. It had been during the move from apartment to house. Merlin had gone back to fetch a chest of Arthur's, only to find it already cleared out. He had checked the new house--just in case, miraculously, the Prince had decided to move his own affects. But it was fruitless. Arthur, like Gwen before him, has been sent home.

Unsettled and, in truth, a bit listless--Merlin sits on the front step of house forty. He holds a few blades of hardy, thick grass that he slowly weaves and knots together. A bit of creative coping thanks to a strange, productive inclination in the air. Instead of plucking new ones, he simply gestures and another blade or flower floats up to his fingers.

Please, someone distract him from his troubled solitude.]

Would anyone know where I could find a vacant house? [Merlin pauses, drumming his fingers against the journal's pages.] This apartment is getting a little cramped--[and the next bit sounds rather forced, as though someone had expressly ordered him to say it:] It's not really up to snuff for a King of Camelot and his royal household.

[Merlin adds further complaint beneath his breath.] And I could do with not sleeping on a sofa. I told Arthur those things were bad for my back--and then he has the nerve to wonder why the washing's not been done.

[After this important request is dispatched, Merlin will be in the library. Having ducked out of dish duty, he sneaks his way out of the building and across the village with record time. The meeting on sorcery has truly rekindled a desire to learn previously subdued by Arthur's mortal peril and Uther's arrival.

Well into the evening (and with a lighted candlestick instead of electric lights), Merlin is tearing down many books on magic that he can find from the shelves. He scans most, but often becomes distracted by some of the lengthier descriptions of varieties in magic different from what he has known at home.

Anyone who comes by to also lurk in the library this evening may walk in upon a few of the spells he tries out. This may involve a few pages accidentally burning, or the sudden growth of a lilac bush on an empty chair.]

{ooc - out of character, we're looking at house #40 so if someone could steer him in that direction, that would be great!}

Well, Arthur's been returned. I suppose that means that I am back to work. [Merlin sighs--though not entirely with disappointment. There is some relief thrown in there.]

But...some have talked of how people can come back different. Either hurt or changed in some fashion. Is there a remedy if someone has been changed?

[Filtered to Fina - 72%]

Fina. Are you okay? I saw--[he bites his words, unsure]--things did not look so well.

[Merlin has tried to make this entire broadcast at a time when Arthur is not likely to be paying attention, but even the greatest wizard evar often makes mistakes. Also, Merlin will be pacing anxiously around the apartment until he hears from Fina...so house-mates can feel free to action it up if they would like.]

[Merlin clears his throat, steading the journal in front of him.]

I would like to say that the Lady Morgana has just arrived in Luceti. [He pauses, trying to begin again with less strain within his voice.] I would hope that people could try and help her adjust to captiv--life, here.

[It is perhaps a pointless formality, but Merlin is feeling guilty about a number of things. Chiefly, how he had last seen the Uther's ward before being dragged into this world. Luckily, it looked as though Morgana was from well before that day. But he was also feeling guilty about the kind of life Morgana was now thrust into--and without Gwen, although she had been here so recently.]

Also...[now more self-conscious than strained. Also, I was wondering if anyone could provide some kind of lesson or instruction for the devices that have recently appeared in the kitchen.

[He wants to provide a proper meal for the apartment's newest resident. Something beyond the bread and cheese that has been sustaining Merlin. He hasn't yet tried to conquer the stove.]

[Merlin's sleep had been rudely interrupted by intense flashes of light and the overwhelming feeling that he should be doing something. The presence, pushing at the boundaries of his mind, felt eerily like communicating with the Great Dragon. And as Merlin had tossed and turned, awake, throughout the rest of the night he came to a conclusion. After all he had done to try and contact Hyt--with plenty of failure--it looks as though the spirit had attempted to contact him right back.

Intuitively, the young warlock felt able to suss out what the spirit wanted. Hold fast, wait for further instructions. Prove yourself worthy. The anticipation of it all succeeds to put him on edge for the rest of the day.

Mid-morning, he addresses the community through his journal:] Err--hello? I was, uhm, just wondering...are there any stables in Luceti? Normally, back home, Arthur just says the word and there are horses waiting outside the castle. Well, more like Arthur says the word and I go fetch them but, what I mean is...what do you do if you plan on making any kind of a journey, here?

[Later in the day, Merlin can be seen walking impatiently around the village. He looks distracted and ill-at-ease with excitement. The walking is mostly a means of keeping calm while he waits for any further communication from the spirit. For once, he's not carting anything around with him.]

Another experiment. Strange, I could've sworn it felt real. Arthur'll be glad that he missed that one. He doesn't have such good luck with love spells.

[Merlin laughs--to himself, for the benefit of others? It's unclear. Arthur's absence has become a part of normality and in such a small village, he can almost imagine being back in Ealdor. It's all adds up to a lot of uncomfortable confusion for the young warlock. Which leads to some uncomfortable laughter.

There's a pause, before he scribbles a quick note:] Gwen--I've just gone out to pick up a few things. Looks like we'll need more in order to feed another mouth.

Fina? Can we talk later? If that's alright with you..

[And with his note dispatched, Merlin can be found moving from shop to shop. He has an eclectic list today. There's some food, some clothing items, and even what may be a few weapons wrapped in fabric. Please do accost him, bump into him, make fun of him, what-have-you!]

Is it strange for someone to still be kidnapped after a whole month? Arthur's been gone for so long.

[He sighs. There's rustling of paper and Merlin eyes Fina's notes with great trepidation. He cannot understand why he has not had some measure of success with them. They were so charmingly written, so thoughtfully recorded. He sighs for a second time.]

Fina, you know that thing? I'm still having no luck. Perhaps I need a little more assistance.

[ooc; he's taken but after Fina comments feel free to troll him anyway, hear him sing his praises of the beautiful, magical lady of his heart!]

[With a clearing of his throat, Merlin addresses the journal system.]

Perhaps...I am not really cut out to be a knight. Although, it'd be nice to get some of the recognition. A knight is never stuck serving breakfast.

[There's a quiet, longing look as Merlin looks "off screen" towards Arthur's abandoned sword. Knights, after all, had so much more of an acceptable heroism.]

Miss Fina, could I request an audience with you? It's about--err--what we talked about, last time. I could use some help.

[Merlin is shown drawing a palm across his face. He grumbles.] Arthur's still not back.

Where can I find the Malnosso?

[Today, someone fancies himself a warrior. After making his brusque (and alarmingly confident) voice post, Merlin has taken to the mean streets of Luceti. He looks relatively like his normal, gangly, awkward warlock self--except for the part where Arthur's sword is strapped uncomfortably to his back. And it's obvious that it's slowing him down.

Merlin's given up on the wizarding business. He woke up this morning with the urge to be a knight. So, grabbing the best knightly weapon in the area, he's planning to execute a heroic rescue mission.

Currently, he's struggling near the centre of the village, sauntering back and forth past the fountain. He's trying to find a way to march about without the sword thwapping him painfully on the back of his legs. It's not going so well.]

[The sound of a throat-clearing cough.]

Can anyone tell me about a blue-haired girl who calls herself a soldier?

[But earlier this day--before he makes the voice post--Merlin is out picking up fresh ingredients for Arthur's evening meal. He is in the shop, picking through some vegetables. He looks...confused.]

[Merlin wakes up in the forest, face first in the snow. He blinks, groans, and rolls over. It's cold and pretty wet, but it is also a more welcome pillow than horse manure. And, so, it means that he isn't in Camelot's stables. That is troubling.

Groggy, still not entirely aware of his surroundings, Merlin sits up. His hand, slipping on the snowy ground, gains purchase on a book and for a moment he thinks it's his book of magic; however, his relief fades into something far less familiar as he opens it up and begins to thumb through its pages. Captors and wings and magic so casually discussed.

Merlin's mind leaps immediately to the Prince, and he is so quick to assume that he can't be here alone.]

Oh, Arthur's not going to like this.

IN A LAND OF MYTH AND A TIME OF MAGIC
( Relationships )

This is a roleplaying journal for Merlin from Merlin (BBC). I have no affiliation with the BBC and this is intended solely for fun.

If you have any concrit, suggestions, concerns, or anything else at all about how Merlin is portrayed--go ahead and leave a message. I'll be glad to take any comments on board and put them to work. This is a fairly new muse for me, so any and all help is appreciated.

Player: Aly | arcvertic
Application: Here