[ @the-winweaver ] Finding himself so deep in the heart of Noxus, he had felt eyes on him at almost every turn he made. Staff gripped tightly in his other hand, his gloved arm, hiding its mechanical arm beneath, toyed with a coin. Engraved upon its surface...a rose. He had been told by the previous owner after all, to only use when in trouble, in Noxus. Now, Quirin could only hope to know that it would aid him.
{ ⟡ } — Ravenous for knowledge & power, there were ever eyes at every corner: curling in the shadows like fumes of a dangerous fantasy & fluttering like nightmarish children of something darker. It wouldn't be odd to feel the pressure accompanied by the icy breeze as stepping into Noxian Territory, for his magic was attractive to creatures & cryptids hiding in the roofs & windowsills. Curiosity enveloping them, however, for he holds something that belongs to them; as they delight in the aura of his arcane; elemental power is it?... oh-so close to home.
🙶 Come to a Halt, Child of the Wind. 🙷 The hissing & reverberant voice would whisper on Quirin's ear, even if no presence would materialize in front of him. 🙶 You are very brave to step here without apprehension on this starless evening... Don't you know there are terrible things hiding in the dark? 🙷
Luminous butterflies would seem to glow & waltz in the wind nonchalantly, before becoming little hives & blossoming into hooded femenine figures circling him as if made of smoke.
🙶 You seem familiar ... what is it you seek in here?
... Are you lost? 🙷
