Feb 21, 2020
"Morning drinking? Is that wise?" -alongcameahuntmanspider
“as some bugs say, it’s five o’clock somewhere. I never claimed to be wise.”
@alongcameahuntsmanspider
seen from China
seen from France
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from Malaysia
seen from China
seen from China
seen from Türkiye
seen from Malaysia
seen from Poland
seen from Malaysia
seen from Mexico
seen from China
seen from Philippines
seen from India
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Italy
seen from Australia
seen from Italy
"Morning drinking? Is that wise?" -alongcameahuntmanspider
“as some bugs say, it’s five o’clock somewhere. I never claimed to be wise.”
@alongcameahuntsmanspider
Mumble (for Quirrel)
"Please let me talk..."
There was a catapiller crawling around Quirrel's tummy in circles. Alegria was proving to be a very active little girl indeed. Now the question was, could Quirrel catch up with his own daughter?
Quirrel would do his best. He lifts up the caterpillar. “What are you doing, you silly little girl?” He was smiling and clearly using a playful tone.
Have either of you ever seen The Archivist? Or, I suppose they go by Wiki now. They travel with a vessel called Elk.
She’s a romantic? Then wouldn’t that make Hornet the best person to ask for advice?
"Aro-mantic. Not interested in romance. She doesn't get that romance feeling, though I feel it might be linked to Hallownest and the fact there's hardly anyone here."
Temple
Quirrel's home startes to slowly fade into white and hold a golden glow. Sharp, radiance horn-esk spikes grew out of the greying soil and all around Quirrel's house. Even stabbing into neighboring homes. The light it casted was gentle but powerful. All of this happened overnight. Ornately decorated with seal-esk markings, the home stood pristine.
Sweets dared to enter Quirrel's home. It was late. Perhaps too late. She would only think about that once her feet landed on the floor. She slipped off the open window sill. Sweets closed the window. Only time would tell her.
Quirrel's home was a mess. It smelled of infection, which, of course, smelled like decay. Papers were scattered about with an attempt to write something, but they'd been scribbled over multiple times like he just plain ran out of space to write. The door to his bedroom was closed and locked, but underneath it, there was visible glow.
Seems the key was just shoved under the door and lied in the center of the room. Orange stained the floor in spots.
"Love... I need to speak to you about something..."
“What’s wrong, Sweets?” Quirrel asked. A feeling of deep dread started to eat away at his insides, but he showed no sign of it.