Micolash glances over when it's clear someone is trying to tidy his mess. Surely he's not that disheveled, is he, the man wonders with ink all over his clothes and skin. Oh, Micolash.

Seeing who it is gets the man to smile brightly. "Ashlynn! Oh, how wonderful! How long it has been since we last spoke? Ages, it feels like. I've no idea how long I'd been asleep for! Forgive me, for not even writing. Goodness me..." Now that he knows it's someone who matters, the scholar attempts to straighten out some of the mess in front of him, though that mostly just comes down to batting off balls of crumpled paper to the floor and getting papers into straightened piles. He looks to grow bored of this after awhile, however, and turns once more to Ashlynn as she explains her name.

Micolash gasps when he hears the roots containing things such as, "Dream! Vision! Oh! Two things so near and terribly dear to myself and my research! What serendipity, that we are friends! This must be a hand of fate. Now if only my name meant something to you in turn! Alas."

As Ashlynn elaborates on this Rumple fellow, Micolash frowns as he taps the collar of his cage with one blackened finger. "I've not heard of such a being, no. A thief of names? A gold-spinner? It sounds a thing of faerie tales, really."