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“Those damn Stilkin put up a fight…” Lace huffed, limping inside the bellhome. Using her bloodied pin as support, she hobbled on a nearly unraveled leg and onto the bed.
Hornet followed close, already preparing to mend Lace. “Please, remind me to never do another delivery through Bilewater… or anywhere with Muckmaggots, for that matter.” She shuddered.
Lace tilted her head with a teasing smirk. “Not even for your precious Fleas?”
Hornet paused in contemplation. “… I suppose I may endure it for Fleatopia.”
“I expected as much.” Lace laid back, satisfied.
Hornet rolled her eyes, coming over to the bed and pulling Lace’s fraying leg into her lap. “Silence. You are quite literally falling apart at the seams.”
Lace grimaced at the first prick of Hornet’s threads.
“There. My job is completed.”
Lace glanced up from where she lay, giving her newly weaved leg an experimental bend. It was a bit stiff, but would certainly function. “Thank you, my dear.”
“Of course. As is my duty,” Hornet murmured before biting back a yawn. “I am quite tired - I believe my silk reserves are low. Excuse me while I soak.”
The spider rose, shedding her crimson cloak and leaping up to the hot spring nestled at the top of the bellhome. With an audible sigh, she sunk into the steaming water.
Lace opened her mouth, then hesitated. She nearly gave up before finally blurting, “Spider… May I join you?”
Hornet seemed surprised, opening an eye to peer down at her. “In the spring? Of course you may.”
“Right. Great. I’ll… be up in a moment,” Lace muttered, barely audible, staring down at her claws. She contemplated before eventually ripping off her first glove.
Somehow, this felt more nerve wracking and intimate than their first time in bed together.
Lace’s claws were the same shade as her face, with needle-like tips not unlike her mother’s weapons. She flexed them briefly before removing her second glove and reaching up, gently tugging at her head and allowing the silk there to free itself from its taut form.
It flowed around her as she slowly made her way up to Hornet, who stared at her in silence. But it wasn’t in disgust, as Lace had anticipated. She didn’t even seem displeased at the fact Lace had hid her true form.
Instead, the spider just seemed surprised or a bit - dare she think it - awed.
Lace slid into the water, waving her needle-tipped claws exaggeratedly. “Surprise! My head is not naturally shaped like a baked good.”
Hornet said nothing for a few moments before reaching out, hesitating before she made contact with Lace’s claw. “May I?” She asked.
Lace shrugged, then nodded. Very mixed signals, she realized, but Hornet managed to decode them perfectly. She made contact with Lace’s ungloved claw, and the woven shivered at the feeling.
“Ingenious… I was always curious as to how you were able to wield your pin without fear of the blade,” Hornet murmured, feeling the hardened yet pliable armature. “Though I can’t help wondering why you bother with those gloves… these could make excellent weapons.”
Hornet’s claws ghosted over the needles at the tips of Lace’s own, as if she wanted to test their sharpness.
Lace shakily swallowed. “A-ah, you see, Mother did try just putting these below the silk with Phantom, but the needles tore through. A big part of their unraveling, I believe.”
Hornet hummed, feeling over Lace’s claws a few moments more before her gaze trailed up toward her head. “And this silk… it…”
“Makes me look exactly like my mother?” Lace finished with a slight grimace. The silk in question lashed lightly against the small of her back, where it was longest.
“That too. But I was going to say ethereal.”
Lace froze. She blinked. Then again. “You… truly think so?”
Hornet hummed in affirmation. “I see it appears to react in accordance with your emotion… but I’m also assuming you have some amount of control over it, seeing as you manage to wrangle it onto such a precise configuration.”
“I… do have some control. It acts mostly as emergency reserves,” Lace said before sighing. “But still, I mostly keep it tucked away. It gets quite annoying otherwise.”
“It has a threatening potential for a weapon, not unlike my own thread storm. With some training, perhaps.” Hornet paused, wincing. “Ah, apologies. I realize now that the things I speak may feel objectifying. Do forgive me.”
“It… actually doesn’t, surprisingly,” Lace murmured. “The way you speak of my body, of myself…”
She trailed off, either because she was afraid to speak her true thoughts, or simply couldn’t.
“I know this may not be my place, but… perhaps it’s because any love your mother showed you was with purpose. A bargaining chip to keep you within her web.” Hornet tilted her head thoughtfully, her eyes fond. “Whereas mine… well, it’s quite spontaneous.”
Lace’s breath hitched, her grip on Hornet’s claws tightening. “You… love me, Hornet?”
“I suppose I do, Lace.”
Her mouth opened and closed, desperately searching for an answer before her throat closed forever.
Eventually, Lace settled for a broken, “you know… I’m not sure I’ve ever heard that before.”
It was difficult to tell when Lace was crying, after everything in the abyss. The void had tainted her silken tears, making them indistinguishable from the rest of her face.
And yet Hornet managed to see. She always did, searching through endless layers of silk and into her core. Below the front of the haughty, violent fencer and where the lonely daughter pining for assurance and praise lay.
Their embrace was comforting, firm, and everything Lace needed. As the woven unraveled, the weaver held her together.
She shook, despite being surrounded by steam. Her breathing became faster than her nonexistent heart in the heat of battle. She very well feared that she may recreate the Abyss with how many tears were being shed.
Eventually, utterly exhausted, Lace leaned back and dabbed at her eyes. “Hah… sorry about that… it’s, uh, been quite a while since I’ve cried that hard… in front of someone.”
Hornet reached over, giving her arm a gentle squeeze. “You need not apologize, my love.”
That sparked something in Lace - both a pleasant warmth but also a reminder. “I must say, I quite love you as well.”
Hornet chuckled. “I suspected that might be the case, but thank you for the confirmation.”
“Was that sarcasm? From my dry little spider?!” Lace demanded with a gasp.
“Hold your tongue,” Hornet grumbled, pulling Lace back in. This time, the embrace was simply warm.
Lace found her claws traveling along Hornet’s back, mindful of the sharp needles. She traced scars from countless battles won until she got to the spider’s wings. She paused, feeling over rough shell.
“My goodness, these scars are quite gruesome,” Lace murmured, leaning over Hornet’s shoulder to get a proper look at them. They started at the base of the wings and extended up the spider’s back like harsh, jagged tendrils. “What in the world happened?”
“It seems my biology limits me to six limbs,” Hornet replied all to casually.
Lace winced at the implication, letting her claws travel along the wings. Though she stored away into her mind to, at some point, have a discussion about how frighteningly casual Hornet seemed to be when it came to the loss of limbs.
Hornet let out a pleased hum, running a claw along one of Lace’s arms, just below her shoulder. “You know… I’ve always been curious, but never got a chance to ask…” she trailed off, unsure.
“Well, now’s your chance!” Lace declared enthusiastically. “Ask away, spider.”
“What are these marks?” Hornet asked, her thumb rubbing against three jagged lines going across Lace’s arm. “They resemble scars, but… well, I suppose I’m unaware if you have the ability to scar.”
“Ah, those were my first attempt at weaving my own wounds,” Lace explained. “Didn’t go well, as you can see. So yes, I suppose they are scars.”
Hornet hummed, tilting her head. “I presumed your mother did that, unless you were far away from the Cradle and in critical condition. But these don’t seem severe.”
Curse this spider and her deduction skills.
“Well, you see, I… hmm…”
Silence filled the steam.
“You needn’t say more if I’ve touched a sensitive topic, Lace. I apologize if I have.”
The woven twirled a claw, sighing. “No, no, I’m just… trying to figure out how to avoid one of your self-image lectures and all that mumbo-jumbo.”
Hornet’s eyes narrowed in concern. Lace sighed, deciding to give her partner a chance to sleep tonight.
“Alright, alright, well… as you know, my dear mother, may her soul rest easy, never paid me much mind. Unless I struck down a powerful foe or was in urgent need of silk, that is.” Lace inhaled deeply, carefully planning her next words. “I… at times… would try to artificially create those circumstances. And let’s just say, one is easier than the other.”
“You… harmed yourself?”
She jolted at Hornet’s faraway gaze. The spider’s eyes were always alert, sweeping for any signs of danger. And yet, now her eyes were clouded by the past.
Lace raced to fix her mistake. “I- well, no- I mean, some of it, but mostly from going out and finding trouble and- shit, this isn’t helping…”
Hornet reached forward, cupping the woven’s cheek and holding her gaze. Her voice was firm and grim when she spoke. “I truly hope you realize that none of that will be necessary with me. I would drop my blade mid-battle for you.”
Lace froze, for quite possibly the hundredth time that evening, trying desperately to reply. Perhaps crack a joke about how obsessed Hornet was. Or maybe a heartfelt promise. Just say Something. Literally any-
“Your wings have a lot of pin feathers.”
The spider blinked, her eyes clearing from the sudden change in topic. “…pardon?”
Well. At least Lace had succeeded in pulling Hornet away from a spiral.
“Y’know… pin feathers? Like when a new feather comes in?”
Hornet tilted her head, glancing at her wings. “To be frank, I hardly know what a feather even is, outside of a writing utensil.”
“I suppose I could tell you…” Lace said, allowing for suspense to build in the silence. “As long as you allow me to preen your wings for you.”
Hornet pretended to think it over for a moment before replying with a chuckle. “A worthy trade, I suppose.”
“Fantastic! Unfortunately, that does mean exiting this tub.”
Hornet pulled herself away from Lace, and somehow, the water became colder.
The spider rose, droplets easily sliding from both her shell and wings.
So they were waterproof. It made sense, Lace concluded, considering they were meant to guard against the harsh conditions at the peak of Mount Fay.
Hornet was already dry and lounging on the bed by the time Lace had finished wringing herself free of water. It was a stark reminder of why she avoided any and all of the horrid substance. While Lace was at no risk of drowning, silk was annoyingly absorbent.
As she was putting her gloves back on, she caught Hornet’s gaze following her.
“Hey,” Lace murmured, sitting beside the spider. “Rosary for your thoughts?”
Hornet, seemingly lost in thought, jolted back to the present. “Ah, sorry, it’s just… with what you told me up there… it reminded me of one of my siblings.”
“Which one? The short one who slayed the sun, or the tall one with parental issues not unlike myself?”
Hornet shook her head with a fond smile. “Hollow, the tall one. While they never struggled for father’s attention, per se, they were in constant pursuit of his approval.” She sighed. “Always trailing him, standing guard outside his throne room… they never spoke poorly of our father, even after they were freed and Ghost revealed his death."
“You know… I think I would get along well with this Hollow fellow,” Lace said with a small smile. “If they could put up with me in the first place, that is.”
“Not an issue. They’re one of the most patient bugs I know.” Hornet’s smile turned to a frown as she pulled her knees to her chest. “I truly hope they’re doing okay… they were fresh out of the black egg when I was captured.”
“Hey, if they’re even half as strong as you, I’m sure they’ll be fine.” Lace nudged the spider with her elbow. “Now, I believe I promised you a preening and a biology lesson. Lay down, if you would.”
Hornet nuzzled against the side of the woven’s head before laying on her stomach and spreading the wing opposite to the wall.
Lace took a moment to appreciate the scene. She knew very well what a grand sign of trust this was, especially from Hornet, of all bugs.
But eventually, she began, searching for pin feathers and gently breaking apart the casings. “So, to us humble bugs, feathers are primarily a writing tool. But they’re also so much more. As you surely know by now, they can achieve flight.”
“They can?” Hornet murmured. Her voice was adorably muffled against the pillow. “Mine only allow for heightened leaps.”
“Perhaps because they’re riddled with pin feathers, my dear,” Lace said with a tsk as she freed a flight feather. “Anyhoo. They’re a very unique form, almost like a leaf made of fur. As far as we know, they’re only found on birds.”
“…birds?” Hornet echoed. She seemed to mull the word over in her brain for a moment. “They sound… a bit familiar.”
“Big beasts of the sky,” Lace breathed. “With claws sharper than a thousand pins and gaping maws large enough to swallow Bellhart whole.”
“Sounds horrifying,” Hornet said flatly.
“Oh, yes. They’re a large reason as to why we bugs remain below ground,” Lace agreed. “Not to mention, there aren’t just ones that fly - there’s ones that rule the land as well. Instead of flying, they run faster than a hangry bell beast, and…”
She trailed off, the silence allowing her to hear a soft rumble from beneath her. It was no earthquake, as was so common nowadays, but instead Hornet. Lace giggled, leaning over to observe the spider’s closed eyes. “My, you’re half asleep! Do my rambles bore you so?”
“Mmmno,” Hornet quite literally rumbled. She cleared her throat and the sound ceased. “It’s fascinating.”
“I see,” Lace muttered skeptically. “Well, I fear that I must interrupt your nap. Because you need to turn around so I can access your second wing.”
Hornet grumbled but heaved herself up regardless. Taking the pillow with her, the spider turned and flopped back down, lazily extending her other wing.
Lace continued her process, smirking as Hornet continued purring. “As I was saying, some birds traded flight for even larger size and even more fearsome claws…”