Merlyn (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
knittingbackwards) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thecapitol2015-04-18 06:39 pm
knittingbackwards) wrote in thecapitol2015-04-18 06:39 pm
Entry tags:
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Who| Merlyn and Stylists; Merlyn and OPEN
What| Merlyn throws a mild temper tantrum over the clothes available to him. Also, passive-aggressive knitting.
Where| Wherever the stylists are; in the lobby
When| Now (a few hours after the network message)
Warnings/Notes| A centuries-old magician with the emotional maturity of a six-year-old?
i. clothes maketh the man
The ridiculous by-our-lady clothing had been bothering Merlyn ever since he had arrived. True, there had been a time when he was used to shirts and trousers, but that time had been several centuries ago, and he hadn't been particularly fond of dressing that way even then. It was hard to cut a suitably mysterious figure without the cabalistic symbols and flowing robes of his trade, and although he had managed to procure himself a skullcap (which he had immediately filled with a fascinating mixture of fishing flies and the occasional dead mouse in case Archimedes put in an appearance after all), the District 2 stylists were proving remarkably resistant to giving him his proper attire back.
It was partly that which finally led him to seek out help elsewhere, and partly the post that had come across the network earlier. He had given it due consideration, and, really, it was ridiculous to try and gather supplies when all he had was a few little pockets. No, he most certainly needed something better to disappear items into.
That was what brought him, one by one, to the Stylists of every District he could find. He didn't knock when he found them, just cleared his throat, pushed his glasses up his nose, and said firmly, "I need robes. Velvet would be best, I think, though silk or wool will do every bit as well. I wrote down the measurements somewhere, now, where are they....?" And, still glaring, he began to pat down his woefully understocked pockets, producing a remarkable range of bits and bobs and muttering under his breath as he looked for the correct piece of paper.
ii. aggressive knitting
It was remarkable, in a way, just how little time it had taken Merlyn to locate knitting needles and yarn. He was currently settled in the lobby, knitting ferociously and glaring at the dark blue wool as if it had personally insulted him. Every so often, he would unpick two or three rows, muttering under his breath about by-our-lady knitting patterns and by-our-lady stylists and a by-our-lady supply of by-our-lady hats being necessary for civilisation.
After an hour or so of this, he finally gave up, brandishing his needles at the nearest passer-by. "I ask you, does this look like a hat? No matter how hard I try, the by-our-lady wool is too soft for this nonsense! The dashed thing keeps flopping all over the place, look at it!"
What| Merlyn throws a mild temper tantrum over the clothes available to him. Also, passive-aggressive knitting.
Where| Wherever the stylists are; in the lobby
When| Now (a few hours after the network message)
Warnings/Notes| A centuries-old magician with the emotional maturity of a six-year-old?
i. clothes maketh the man
The ridiculous by-our-lady clothing had been bothering Merlyn ever since he had arrived. True, there had been a time when he was used to shirts and trousers, but that time had been several centuries ago, and he hadn't been particularly fond of dressing that way even then. It was hard to cut a suitably mysterious figure without the cabalistic symbols and flowing robes of his trade, and although he had managed to procure himself a skullcap (which he had immediately filled with a fascinating mixture of fishing flies and the occasional dead mouse in case Archimedes put in an appearance after all), the District 2 stylists were proving remarkably resistant to giving him his proper attire back.
It was partly that which finally led him to seek out help elsewhere, and partly the post that had come across the network earlier. He had given it due consideration, and, really, it was ridiculous to try and gather supplies when all he had was a few little pockets. No, he most certainly needed something better to disappear items into.
That was what brought him, one by one, to the Stylists of every District he could find. He didn't knock when he found them, just cleared his throat, pushed his glasses up his nose, and said firmly, "I need robes. Velvet would be best, I think, though silk or wool will do every bit as well. I wrote down the measurements somewhere, now, where are they....?" And, still glaring, he began to pat down his woefully understocked pockets, producing a remarkable range of bits and bobs and muttering under his breath as he looked for the correct piece of paper.
ii. aggressive knitting
It was remarkable, in a way, just how little time it had taken Merlyn to locate knitting needles and yarn. He was currently settled in the lobby, knitting ferociously and glaring at the dark blue wool as if it had personally insulted him. Every so often, he would unpick two or three rows, muttering under his breath about by-our-lady knitting patterns and by-our-lady stylists and a by-our-lady supply of by-our-lady hats being necessary for civilisation.
After an hour or so of this, he finally gave up, brandishing his needles at the nearest passer-by. "I ask you, does this look like a hat? No matter how hard I try, the by-our-lady wool is too soft for this nonsense! The dashed thing keeps flopping all over the place, look at it!"