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I predict that at least one of us will pause upon discovering a skwerl out in that scary place called the Rëàl Wörld and halt our conversations to study it. It will not grow green, but will stare evilly at us through beady black eyes, warning us not with words, but with actions, that our shenanigans are not welcome near it's humble stash of nuts. We will study it to no avail, wondering how this skwerl came to be there, with no higher-ups on site. We, in turn, will be studied by the counselors inhabiting our particular locations. There will be a mass switch of location, such as from "with Queen Mab" or "with the whiskey in the jar" to "dreaming about Queen Mab as I drown my sorrows in a jar of whiskey while locked in a cozy padded room and guarded by Biff."
We will have nightmares and hallucinations of skwerls. From where have they come? To what destination to they go? Do they have an agenda of their own? Are they simply pawns, and should we stage a rescue attempt of the poor innocents, saving them from the brutal and unconventional use put by them by the All-Might Barrow-Wight (may he live forever).
A day will come when the skwerls must go to war. They will fight, and they may fail. But that day is not this day. A day will come when their very existence will be questioned, challenged, and taken very much for granted. But that day is not this day. Backed by the mighty mods and the admirable admins, the skwerls will fight on, valiantly and a terror for all to see, with teeth flashing in the dim greenness of the morn, with claws outstretched, tearing off-topicness from the very sky! But as I have stated... it's not going to be today. It's just too early in the morning for that sort of thing.
♥ Fea
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