steahl: (My Pet)
[personal profile] steahl
Who: Anise
When: Eh, who knows, no timeline for this charrie!
What: A weaver isn't just a myth in this world, but finding them is the trick.

She wedged herself deeper into the crevice and tried to tuck all of her legs deeper yet. The long, near glowing chitin tried to find any extra space but one of them kept tangling the others. The second leg on the left twitched and flopped a little nervlessly, a spreading numbness making her worry, but not near as much as the blood from her hand.

If she let herself think about her injuries the pain would be a problem so she hissed and licked the the bleeding stumps of her fingers. Her own toxins wouldn't work long, but hopefully long enough.

How had they found her? She'd gone far, and she'd gone deep, taking her feeders down into the farthest caves her legs could reach and her arms could lift her charges to. There should have been no more cages and no towering strangers bartering the cost of her legs to the visiting mages. No.

She should have been safe. No one who found her ever left the same way, no stories, nothing to trace, but she'd recognized the Hunter that had come today. It was the same man that dragged her forth the first time, webbed scars on his face and some kind of metal woven in his clothes. Whatever he wore it was cold, enough to freeze her legs in place and make her breath fog the air like winter had found the deep roads.

"She can't have gone far! Spread out, bring the torches!"

Ah yes, they'd find her. And they'd take the rest of her fingers...but why her fingers? Last time they'd wanted her legs. And they'd taken her mother's head first, her fangs now dangled on an earring worn by the hunter. What, then, did she do with her hands?

What would strange magicians do?

Did they think, somehow, that power only flowed through the humanoid portions of the body? Were they so foolish? Or were they simply so greedy that they wished to sell the smallest portions first to make the greatest gain?

Ah, she was a pessimist, she assumed the latter.

It was only a matter of time before the hunting party pried her from her stones so...what could she do? What indeed? She didn't make webs of a strength to hold them, nor drip poison as some of her spider kin did; her limbs were fragile and translucent, her height, even standing tall as she might, couldn't brush the shoulders of the hunters. Granted, she wasn't very good at rearing up on her hind most legs so perhaps she could be more intimidating if she but worked at it.

Something to contemplate if she escaped, yes.

Ah, back to the issue at hand. What could she do? The threads of those closing in on her were solid, tangible things. They knew their purpose, their lives, he hadn't brought anyone with any hesitance with him. They were hunters, they hunted. To spin them aside to a new path would be...costly.

What terrible drive could keep a man on the path to finding her kind for so long that he knew who and what to bring with him? The Hunter, ah, his reality thread was like ice licked steel, a humming bar of discord in reality.

Why had she not seen that before? The ill fitting person in a world that crumpled and shied back before him? Had she been afraid to look?

"There!" His voice range out like a whip strike, staccato and precise as he pointed toward her little abode.

She'd been spotted...because he knew where to look. He'd had dealings with her kin at some point; someone, somehow, had set him on this path. They threw chains into her crevice; chains weighted with cold, freezing weights that tangled along her injured leg and made the rest of her limbs twitch in agony. It certainly didn't take an army to pull her out. No, try as she might it took but two men to haul her into the ring of torchlight, trembling and afraid.

But fear could be a wondrous goad. It had set her running years and years ago when her mother had managed a hole in their cage and it whispered through her veins now. It didn't take an army to drag such as she...but it would take a faster man than the hunter to stop her from lifting her bleeding, numbed hand to her lips. "Undo the bindings," she whispered hoarsely, speaking not to the men around her but to the wounds that dripped blood to the dusty floor. "What brought him, I cancel, the pact is broken and he will face his true path in the world he left. In price that which was taken from me will not return." What use fingers, after all, or a leg? Or even her mother's fangs in the face of a man who shouldn't be here?

"STOP HER!"

No. No she didn't think so. She felt the familiar heat of spellwork pool and dance along her remaining fingers, the energy slipping along her uninjured legs as sparks of fire in the dim cavern, and with that steel cable of purpose as her guide she reached forward gently, easily, to part the edges of the world.

There were laws. There were ever laws. As a magnet would pull metal so too would a world pull those born within it. That was why part of the price of such sent forth to other realms was that they never seek to travel such paths again. And if she were right, please shadows let her be right, the rift she worked now was the second time the Hunter had seen such wonders.

And it was a wonder. That space between worlds and realities was hypnotic, a dance of light and sound so potent and refined that she had seen it bring tears to hardened warriors. The best, and the worst, of any world could scream forth into the void, populating it with ecstasy and fear so intertwined that most minds didn't know how to cope with such a deluge.

Sometimes she wondered what part of the cacophony came from her own world and whose voices were strong enough to reach forth. That was a musing for safer times than now though. Now she concentrated on pulling the hole she'd wrought wide, and wider still, her working legs teasing the edges into a doorway. It was a lopsided and limping door, but any exit counted when in dire straits. "They are calling you, Hunter."

Was he strong enough to resist? She hoped not, though her heart started to sink as she watched the play of emotion across his face. He didn't move for the magic, he stayed still as stone as he watched the play of realities. His partners though, oh they fled. Catching a magic beast yes that was something a man could be persuaded to do, but to face such as this? It seemed not.

"Do they know your name in that other world?"

Did he remember what he had been called? If she strained she could almost hear the syllables whispering and twining, a net cast forth from whatever he had left years ago. She'd not grace him with remembering the sounds though. The blood dripped steadily still from her hand, pulling away into the void, weaving her doorway stronger as it dripped through the warp and weft of her magic. She needed this to work against the harsh will of the man before her.

But did she need more than he did? The edge of one of his boots stirred the dust of the cave floor, sliding a span and no further as he continued to watch. "I am not that person."

Ah, at least he could be coaxed into talking. "We're always what we were, and Home remembers that..." she cajoled softly. "Were you kinder there?"

"I listened to no witch, then or now..."

But he had been caught by one? Or he had sought one for some purpose to escape so to here, this world and the time in which they now stood. Or rather he stood and she braced herself just enough not to fall. The longer the void pulled on her resources the fainter she would feel with no greater price offered at it's opening. "I don't ask you listen." She just begged he moved.

Another step. A line of dragged dust as he fought the pull that the rest of his body was giving in to..."NO!"

"Yes. Leave me in peace, Hunter." JUST GO!

The terrible thing about a will of iron was that even such a metal could become brittle and snap under stress. That line of PURPOSE that held him so harsh and close to the reality that dwelt within her door could only take so much, no matter what the mind behind it might demand. He had an anchor in her world, a drive, but Home was ever calling. And it was a greater being than either of the two in left in the cave. She watched when his will to stay crumpled, strain shivering through his limbs so harshly that she thought he might snap bones in his effort to escape...

...and if he did she would never know as he finally stepped through her door and faded away. The closing of the spell fought her; magic more than willing to pull her in as well as final price for the endeavor. When she finally had the woven edges sealed shut the cave was dark and lifeless, empty of something wonderful...but infinitely safer. The final twist of effort had branded the stumps of her fingers, sealing them over in painful, hot scar tissue so they might never return.

Similarly her injured leg still shivered with numbness and moved only somewhat under her command. A price...but one she paid gladly. Now if she could but get back to her flock and her nest before collapsing into sleep she would count herself far luckier than she could ever have dreamed when the hunt had found her!

Spiders! No reply needed, of course

Date: 2014-02-27 04:51 am (UTC)
From: [personal profile] souji_kun
“No, you don't understand … sir.” Long fingers laced together as he eyed the man standing before him. “I don't care who you are or how much you are willing to pay. I will not sell you any of the garments here, nor will I make any thing custom for you.”

The human sneers and the jorogumo decides that he's had enough of this nonsense. Standing up, though smaller than his aunts, mother, and sisters, he still towers over the human. “You will leave now, either under your own power or with assistance, but I do not take kindly to pimps demanding things in my own shop.”

“I'll run you out of town, monster,” the human hisses. It's a poor imitation of the hiss that even the youngest spider learns.

“Very well. Ni'lou.” The large cobalt blue coughs politely from where he's been sitting and reading in a corner. The human starts and looks over, then back to the weaver.

“You'll be sorry you threatened me,” he snaps, already heading for the door. “You just fucking wait...”

When he's gone, Ni'lou sighs and sets his book aside. “Are we really going to have to leave again?”

Okou shrugs easily. “There will always be a place for us,” he says. “Have faith.”

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March 2017

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