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It matters not that she is at the White Palace, resting in her private room. White Lady’s roots twist, curl, and feel throughout the entirety of the Kingdom.
Drip, drip, drip. Water pools. Plink, plonk, plink, as water hits metal and stone. Fizz, fizz, fizz of the unfortunate creature disintegrating in acid. Rumble, rumble, rumble of earth displaced by beasts. Clang, clang, clang of nail hitting nail. Buzz, buzz, buzz of the bugs of this Kingdom.
Chitter, chatter.
Drip. Drop.
Plink. Plonk.
Fizz. Rumble.
Clang. Buzz.
Drip. Drop. Fizz. Rumble. Clang. Buzz.
Drip Drop Plink Plonk Fizz Rumble Clang Buzz
Drip Drop Plink Plonk Fizz Rumble Clang Buzz
Chitterchatterdripdropclangrumble
Chitterchatterdripdropclangrumble
chitterchatterdripdropclangrumble-
“My Lady.”
Ah.
That voice. Ringing loud and clear. Not quite deafens, no, nothing ever truly deafens the noises. But it is unmistakable. White Lady opens her eyes, and faces the figure kneeling before her.
“Spider’s child.”
(rumble, rumble, rumble).
“I have returned from my training at the Hive.” The Child’s signature red garb is slightly tattered. There are cuts and bruises upon her claw. Her mask hangs low, as though its weight heavily burdens her. What exhausting training it must have been. And yet… There is something…? Yes, there was some unknown strength emanating from the Child.
“That you have. You return to us stronger. Yet you also return… Not the same? I sense a difference about you.” (buzz, buzz, buzz)
At that, the Child looks up to meet White Lady’s eyes. “You sense true.” A slight pause. The Child sucks in some breath.
(drip drip-
“My mentor has finally bestowed upon me a name.”
(DROP)
“Oh my.”
The roots within the room shifts. “Is that so?” White Lady nods towards the Child, gesturing to her to rise.
The Child does. “Yes. She has named me Hornet.” The Child’s shoulder square. She stands tall. A warrior’s stance.
Is that how the Queen of the Hive stands, White Lady wonders.
Roots shift more. “A strong name, befitting of you.” White Lady looks away, turning toward a flower. A pale, pale flower. “And it is to your liking?”
The Child too turns her gaze towards the flower as she approaches. “I have no objections. I am grateful for such a name. I will bear it with pride, and do my utmost to live up to her expectations.”
White Lady hums. She unfurls a root, and grabs the flower. The root tightens, only slightly, around the stem of the flower. “Then all is well. I shall call for the royal retainers to attend to you. Rest and heal, Child.”
The Child turns away from the flower and looks up to the Root. A beat of silence. The Child looks as though she wants to say something. But after another beat of silence, she seemingly comes to the conclusion to not voice her thoughts. She shakes her mask. “I… Of course, Lady. I will do just that. I will take my leave, now.” She bows and leaves.
White Lady does not turn to watch. Her gaze and grip are on the flower. Her roots sense for her when the Child has fully left the room.
Now alone, she is free to ponder.
(plink, plonk, plink)
(chitter, chatter, chitter)
How intriguing, White Lady muses. With a name like that…
It wasn’t that the Root wasn’t aware that the honor of naming the Child was given to the Queen of the Hive. She was well aware. It simply… Happened much sooner than she anticipated. What exactly, she thinks, was the Hive Queen’s reason for such a name? What meaning? What purpose, if any?
Perhaps the name was a commemoration from mentor to mentee, a successor in skill and technique. Emblematic of all that the Child has learned.
Or perhaps there is a message hidden there, a challenge to the Root. Look well now pale Root, she can almost hear. She is one of us. Of sting, of swiftness, of venom. Your ilk cannot, will not, have her. Know your territory.
Her root rips a petal off of the flower. (clang, clang, clang)
Or it could be none of that. Who can say.
White Lady sighs. Her root gently caresses the petal, and lets the flower go. (rumble, rumble, rumble)
There was no use in speculating. Whatever intent behind the name, one thing was clear.
The Queen of the Hive has given the Child a truly wonderful gift.
The Root shall never use that name.