Your carapace still stings from the scratches inflicted by the thorns you'd had to traverse to get into the city... and your skirmishes with the husk sentries on the way in. It turns out even infected, they remembered their training hard enough to hit much harder than the civilian warriors had. When you drop through another hole in the floor, the sight of the bench sitting by the window is a very welcome thing.
More welcome than that, however, is the person sitting at it. Quirrel leans casually back, one arm propped over the back of it as he looks out the window overlooking the City— watching the rain come down, but even without any acknowledgement you know that he knows you're there. A swordsman of his experience had to have heard you land, and so you don't bother warning him before scrambling onto the bench at his side.
His only response is to chuckle as he tilts his head toward you, and rearrange his nail so you don't sit on it (and so that he can still draw it easily). Patient as ever— and kind, as he waits for you to settle and tilt your head at him before he speaks.
"The capital lies before us, my friend. What a sombre place it seems, and one that holds the answers to many a mystery. I too have felt the pull of this place, though now I sit before it I find myself hesitant to descend. ...Is it fear I wonder, or something else that holds me back?"
...Fear? You doubt it. His caution comes from prudence, not cowardice. But at your continued silence, rather than elaborating he cheerfully goes on:
"The city looks to be built into an enormous cavern, and the rain pours down from cracks in the stone above. There must be a lot of water up there somewhere. ...I suppose, if the cave roof stayed strong this long, it should hold for us. Before I leave this Kingdom, I'd like to see where all that water comes from. What a sight it must be!"
A mild pang of misgiving goes through you at that— but more than that, there's anticipation. Your paths keep crossing in unexpected places; little moments of beauty and camaraderie you hadn't expected to find in the Hallownest's ruins. Maybe wherever that water gathers is another place you'll end up meeting. ...Maybe you can find it, and show it to him rather than merely being an audience for his own discoveries.
no subject
More welcome than that, however, is the person sitting at it. Quirrel leans casually back, one arm propped over the back of it as he looks out the window overlooking the City— watching the rain come down, but even without any acknowledgement you know that he knows you're there. A swordsman of his experience had to have heard you land, and so you don't bother warning him before scrambling onto the bench at his side.
His only response is to chuckle as he tilts his head toward you, and rearrange his nail so you don't sit on it (and so that he can still draw it easily). Patient as ever— and kind, as he waits for you to settle and tilt your head at him before he speaks.
"The capital lies before us, my friend. What a sombre place it seems, and one that holds the answers to many a mystery. I too have felt the pull of this place, though now I sit before it I find myself hesitant to descend. ...Is it fear I wonder, or something else that holds me back?"
...Fear? You doubt it. His caution comes from prudence, not cowardice. But at your continued silence, rather than elaborating he cheerfully goes on:
"The city looks to be built into an enormous cavern, and the rain pours down from cracks in the stone above. There must be a lot of water up there somewhere. ...I suppose, if the cave roof stayed strong this long, it should hold for us. Before I leave this Kingdom, I'd like to see where all that water comes from. What a sight it must be!"
A mild pang of misgiving goes through you at that— but more than that, there's anticipation. Your paths keep crossing in unexpected places; little moments of beauty and camaraderie you hadn't expected to find in the Hallownest's ruins. Maybe wherever that water gathers is another place you'll end up meeting. ...Maybe you can find it, and show it to him rather than merely being an audience for his own discoveries.
You think you'd like that very much.