no subject

[Prior nods, finding himself taking a couple of deep breaths without even realizing it. Like air. It doesn't sound like his world, where the air tastes of traffic pollution and street corner hot dogs, and cut pine trees in December and ice cream in July but never like magic at all. The idea it could be as natural as breathing isn't quite a concept he can grasp, but impossible things are starting to be a daily reality to him.]

So, anyway, I'm a prophet.

[About as casual as someone might announce being vegetarian. Or it would be, if he didn't keep cutting nervous sideways glances to check Merlin's response.]