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Tucking himself into bed at the Sanctum Sanctorum, wearing a bedtime robe in this case, Merlin rests his head on the pillow, muttering something about how the bed is so soft. Of course, he's muttered about this every single night he's been there. But that's neither here nor there. It's not long before he dozes off.
His dreamscape changes and morphs. Its final shape takes the form of the park. The one that people keep telling him is in some sorta central location. The dreamscape version of Merlin takes on very much the same form as he appears in his waking state. The robes with the belt that has a sword hanging off it. The tall pointy hat. A long white beard and long white hair. He even carries a staff. He certainly is a creature that enjoys his comforts, those things that are familiar to him. He walks through the park, the dreamscape shimmering, much like with heatwaves, only this is something even less tangible. "Hmph. A centralized park indeed." He mutters to himself.
*
"You never did like cities," a feminine voice replies wryly. While the woman is familiar, for some reason, Merlin struggles to place her. Yet her dark hair, and nearly white skin blur with the scenery. Her head turns to examine his form as she rests along one of the benches of the park. Her fingers grasp the back of the bench, and her jaw tightens.
"You don't belong here," she observes. Her head cants upwards and her lips curve into a sly cat-like smile. "I'm not sure how you got here, but even you know you don't belong."
Her hands clasp lightly on her lap, and she straightens to stare at the park around her.
*
"Huh? What's that?" Merlin turns to face the voice, squinting at the woman. Does he know her? He feels like he should. Or maybe he shouldn't. Perhaps that familiar feeling is just that, a feeling, and nothing more. "Cities are too crowded." He concedes after a moment. "I never understood the appeal." He toys with his staff, twirling it back and forth, contemplating the woman, the park, the entire scene before him.
"I don't belong here? Ha!" His somewhat gruff, older British sounding disbelieving of the words. "I got here the same way I get anyway. Travel. Travelling is the only way anyone will get anywhere. By walking, by magic, by plane, by train, by automobile, it matters not." He approaches the woman, his steps slow but steady. Cautious. "Now why would I think I don't belong here? No…why do you think I don't belong here?"
*
"Because you are little more than an old man in this time," she replies smoothly. She shift son the bench. The black dress she sports is given a quick smoothing. "And look at yourself. At one time you were the epitome of strength. Of power." Her chin lifts and she rises from her spot on the bench. She lifts her hand, and in one simple motion, she pushes the man slightly. "You know nothing, Old Man." Her smile turns secretive. She knows things he doesn't. But then, such is her ilk.
*
"But we old men do like poking our noses where they don't belong, don't we?" Merlin chuckles softly. "Otherwise we'd just be sitting around, bored, waiting for death to come. I ask you, where's the fun in that?" Especially if death isn't about to come for you any time soon, if at all. Not that many people would know of this particular advantage gained by Merlin.
He putters few feet back at the light push. "Oh, I know some things. I know that the moon isn't made of cheese. Ummm…" He scratches the side of his head. "And I know that leprechauns are real." There's a pause once more as he thinks. "Aha! Yes, I know that bees make delicious honey and that wasps are just mean." Is he just playing games? Or is he really like this in his dreams? With Merlin, it can sometimes be hard to tell.
*
"And such a large nose it's become. That's something people don't tell you when you're young. Noses and ears grow despite age. So the older you are, the larger they are. Which makes them easier to poke where they ought not to be," Her smile extends considerably. "You've lived enough for more than a dozen lifetimes. You need to leave this one alone." Her fingers drum along the side of the bench.
"And you, dear sir, don't even know who I am." Her head lulls to the side and she finally rises from the bench. "Yet here we are. Standing not he precipice of the world staring into oblivion, daring it to descend on whatever is left of this goddess-forsaken planet."
*
"I happen to be proud of my nose. Do you know that it once got licked by a fairy? That's one of my proudest moments!" Merlin says happily. His joy quickly returns to confusion again as he stares at the woman again. Is he supposed to know her somehow? "Aye, I've lived a long time. The longer I live, the more I realize that there's always more to learn, and always more to do. And always people to help." He nods sadly. "Helping people is important. What is the purpose of one's life if not for the pursuit of happiness and to help those in need? Why, I once told Arthur, 'No matter what else you're remembered for, be remembered for doing good.' I really do believe he took that to heart!"
He tries to look at the woman more closely. "Should I know you?" He asks slowly. He's really not sure. "Young woman, when you stare at oblivion, and oblivion stares back, there's always a question to be asked: 'Why is oblivion here?'" He sighs heavily. "Goddess-forsaken? Which goddess has forsaken us this time? Airmid? Athena? Frigg?"
*
"Only you would be proud of a fairy licking your nose," the woman mutters in return. "Believe me, Old Man, fairies and demons alike have nothing on you and your charms." She presses up to a stand. "This is your dream," she states blandly, "maybe I'm just a fragment of your consciousness telling you to leave well enough alone. For once." Her chin lifts, "Or, perhaps, I'm a mirror of someone you met earlier in the day."
"Or maybe, maybe, I'm just an echo of an echo." The smile reflects again. Butter eyeless existence only serves to unsettle further. "All of them. None of them. It's high time for a change. You know that. You haven't seen a true shift in a long time." She lifts her hand, "No, Old Man, the time is nigh. You have seen it. You might object, but you know it's high time."
*
"Of course I'd be proud of a fairy licking my nose! Who wouldn't be!" Merlin shrugs, seeming genuinely confused as to why somebody wouldn't consider that an achievement. "I learned some charms from fairies and demons." He ponders softly. "Hmm. Perhaps this is my dream. And in my dream, the world is mine to control…well, it's usually mine to control." He chews his bottom lip for a moment. "Mirror images of people I've seen are always so fickle." He murmurs.
"A true shift, of the kind I believe you're talking about, young one, does not come easily. There's a reason they are rare. Maybe this is just some part of me trying to tell me what I don't want to see…or what I'm having trouble seeing. But if you're a part of me telling me what I need to know, tell me this, do I think I know what has caused the darkness to arise? Or am I in the shadows just as much as everyone else?"
*
"Wrong," she states matter-of-factly as she begins to pad away from Merlin. "Completely wrong. Wrong in every way shape and form. In fact, the fallacy that you live exudes from your fingers. It starts in your toes and bubbles deep within your psyche." She twists to smirk at him again, tossing her dark hair over her shoulder.
"The darkness rises because it is the season for its triumph. Footholds take time. And this one has had weeks. And will have weeks." A wry smile follows the words. "Fear not what has not emerged; instead, celebrate what will come about. A season you know all too well will befall all of us."
*
"Wait a Mordred danged minute!" Merlin tries to keep up with the woman as she starts padding away from him. "What has my hubris got to do with this?" He sighs heavily. "Oh, what I wouldn't give to have Arthur and his knights again." He mutters, his staff thudding against the ground as he continues to follow the woman. "The world is not prepared for such darkness." Although that could just be his own fear of what's to come. "Why shouldn't I fear what has emerged? For that matter, what has emerged that I would need to fear? Speak to me!" He calls after her.
*
Merlin's thoughts mostly fall on deaf ears as the woman continues to tread away from him. The thick dark hair and cool back that display to him are emotionless — without even a hint of merriment, even at her own presumed delight. And as she walks, she seems to fade with each step, leaving whatever dream Merlin lingers in. But the last merits an answer; one that she can't possibly resist. The smirk can be heard in her voice: "Nothing that hasn't emerged before."
She fades entirely following the words — little more than a memory spoken in a dream.
*
Waking up in his room in the Sanctum, a light sweat upon his brow, Merlin takes a few deep breaths in and props himself up on his elbows. "Something wicked this way comes." He murmurs. "I should not have come here." Worry etches across his face. "Who…opened…the mouth from hell…"