The year is 2016. I need to keep changing my appearance. People were getting skeptical of the same old man not dying. My latest potion makes me a 5'10" girl, round face, pale as a ghost, long brown hair down half my back, and hazel eyes. I am on the heavier side because last time I was a girl I was on the skinnier side and guys kept cat-calling me. It made me super uncomfortable, especially since I'm a man. Anyway, I go by Amy and I try to keep a low profile. I don't talk to people unless necessary, and I try not to go out very often – except my daily errands, which mostly include groceries. However, that's also because when I'm home I can be myself, instead of Amy or whomever I am at the time.
I have four little places I call home. They are all pretty much the same, just different locations, again to keep up the ruse of being different people. My homes are secluded, as to keep from view both myself and my magic. My homes are buried on the side of a cliff which is covered in vines, hiding them even more. The inside is small and homey. Only three small rooms; the living area which doubles as my bedroom, the kitchen, and the dining room. The living area has a cabinet for my potions and medicines on the wall to the right next to the door to the minimalistic bathroom, a bookshelf on the back wall filled with my books from Gaius both of magic and medicine, and a few other books I gathered around the years, and my bed tucked in a corner on the left wall. On the left wall is the doorway to the simple dining room. Just a small wooden table with two wooden chairs on either side. The kitchen is on the other side of the dining room. It is the smallest room in the house, a simple sink and counter with a cheap microwave and toaster on the back wall, a fridge and cabinet on the left wall, a stove-top oven on the right. It's small, but it's only me. I move between the four houses mostly depending on the supplies I need and which house has it. Every day I walk past the Lake of Avalon on my way to and from my errands. I made sure all four of my houses are within walking distance of the lake. There is a small public beach there now, but I pulled a few strings and made the place where Arthur died private. Sometimes I go to the beach to mourn the death of my friend. Over the many years, you'd think my loss would get easier, but it doesn't. It only gets easier to pretend I'm okay.
