[size=85](bumble [2.1] and ana [2.1] in ani-anthro, hoover the skwyrm [1.0]-let's pretend i did this when he was a baby-in little squirmy baby form)
The slick, willowy yellow-tinged figure walked for what seemed like years in the lulling nothingness. Ana thought herself snow-blind and deaf and dumb and somewhat aged kind of after the first few minutes and allowed the rocking motion of the jar to lift her to a deep sleep, using the squirmy, lonely larvae as a pillow. Time seemed forever frozen but at the same time, rapidly advancing. In her dreams she felt the heaviness of age, bones lengthening, snout enlarging, claws becoming thick and chipper like slices of fragile birch bark. Youth to teen to adult, dust to dust. The great beast carrying her jar looked down and smiled at this with a father-like sincerity and continued walking until the whiteness dithered into an inky darkness and his footsteps became echoed from flat pats to wet puddle smacks on long-abandoned stones. Water dripped at random intervals from an unseeable ceiling, breaking the unnerving silence he worked through just previously.
He snapped together his thick claws, the clipping sound producing an eerie green foxfire that lit the wet cavern the group found themselves in. He maneuvered through the moist air and came to a small wooden table adorned with a gas lamp. Setting down the full jar, he used his free hand to flick the ridged dial, filling the cave with a promising golden light.[/size]
