[Suzerain of Sheol]

Sooooo.... right, physicality. Objective reality. Matter and molecules and... all those dull things. Only a dim mind would stoop to call them chains. Still, a change of state for the unfettered intellect, the immortal spirit...

"Okay, enough of that, brain. Focusing. Why are we here??? It was... it was... oh. Right. The Grail. Right."

Merlin begins pacing around the room she's found herself in, and promptly walks into a shelf. An easy thing to do, inside a lightless janitor closet.

"Well, I never!" she says, blinking a mage-light into existence as she smooths her skirts. "Is this your idea of a joke?" she asks to no one in particular. "I look like a clown and a whore made a very poor decision together! Though, I suppose we are in France... ugh."

She is rather more pleased to notice the litany of Command Seals decorating her entire body. More power is always appreciated.

"Actually... skin me like a saint! I'm one belle dame sans merci!" She immediately claps her hands over her mouth in shock and disgust. "Oh lord, where did that come from?! French? Seriously? Ughhh it tastes like frog vomit. Damn you, clairvoyance! Damn you!!!!!" She shakes her fist impotently at the low ceiling.

"*ahem* What was I doing again? Hmm... new body, new clothes, Command Seal... the Grail! Right, right."