Aug. 13th, 2011

flypaw: (merlin)
|masterpost|

Part One: The Islands.
Ealdor.
April, 3500.


Merlin woke, as he often did, with a gasp upon his lips. The image of crushing water surrounded him, swayed behind his eyes, pulling him down with the current and dragging him to the thick sludge at the bottom of the ocean. He could feel the waves sliding over one another, calm, as if they hadn’t taken another one for their own. And then Merlin had been fighting, thrashing, to return to the surface.
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December 2011

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