Chapter Text
"We will be departing on a long journey tomorrow. Prepare accordingly."
This news was dropped like most things were by Hornet. There was no conversation. It was a simple statement of fact, conferred as the spider strode into their shared abode and to her desk with nary a glance Lace’s way. Hornet provided no further elaboration. She did not even respond when Lace rolled onto her side to glare daggers at her back. The tools upon her work bench were the only objects of her attention. As the silence stretched on, it was clear that Lace would need to surface the rest herself.
Same as it always was.
She willed forth her most pained, dramatic sigh and flopped back onto her back. "First you work me to the bone with your silly little errands. Now you wish to drag me to some far corner of the kingdom? Without so much as a ‘please’?"
Hornet retorted in turn. "I did not know one could complete wishes while lazing about in a borrowed bed. My sincerest apologies for the interruption." Her tone was even, but the sarcasm bled through. Lace expected it, and had her own response ready, before the spider added, "Though the edge of Pharloom will not be our destination. We will be traveling much further."
And just like that, routine went right out the window. Lace shot up from the bed. "Excuse me--, what-- further?! What do you mean further?" Her distress was not shared by Hornet. The Weaverling remained unperturbed, not even looking up from her desk at Lace’s clear distress.
The vacuum usually filled by the easy rhythm of their usual banter was taken up by something different yet equally as familiar to Lace in recent days: rage. Like a storm, Lace was upon Hornet and snatched the short pins right out of her claws. That finally got Hornet's attention, but all it earned her was an annoyed look. This pushed the anger simmering in Lace’s chest to its boiling point, and she brandished the blade mere inches from Hornet's mask. The Palekin did not flinch. "Little spider, the nerve of you to come in here--"
"Come into my own home?"
Lace hissed, "Choose your words wisely, 'lest I decide to add the proper amount of eyeholes for a Weaver to your mask."
It was an idle threat. Yet something shifted in Hornet's countenance. Palpable, yet... whatever it was swirled below the dark recesses of her mask. Lace sought some sort of answer, anything, in those inscrutable pools of black. They gave her nothing. Lace scarcely reacted as Hornet picked the tool from her hand. She turned away again, and this time with intention. "Would you prefer I leave you behind, child?"
Lace didn't dignify that with a response. They both knew the answer. That it didn’t matter what she wanted. She stormed back over to the bed. The springs squealed in protest as she collapsed into it face first. This darkness--a meager stand-in for the balm oblivion would provide were she allowed it-- did not soothe her fury. She tilted her head and cracked open her eyes. Before her laid a plush blanket. What should have been a perfectly smooth, soft brown was broken by white and red darning. Poor attempts at hiding the damage once suffered. The fire inside her weakened to a smolder and left her feeling raw. She grabbed the fleecy blanket and cocooned herself in a different darkness.
Her words held none of the vitriol they had moments before. "Where are you taking us, spider?"
The shuffling noises ceased, and the soft clink of tools being placed down rang out. "The land I hail from. Hallownest."
--–
Lace dragged her feet until the very last moment, not that it really mattered when her personal belongings were so few. Her pin, a few borrowed tools, a travel cloak she found one day wandering the Citadel. Despite rising second, she was easily packed and out the door before her companion. When Hornet finally joined her, Lace was surprised to see she had packed lightly as well. Only a single sack bag was added to the usual array of pouches hidden beneath her cloak.
The two departed Bellhart in the dark. They did not exchange any words as they walked; Lace because she was still upset, and Hornet because... well, because whatever reason she usually remained silent.
It had been some time since Pharloom had been freed from its silken bindings, and since Lace had taken residence with the annoying spider responsible for both the deed and Lace’s continued existence. Long enough for the two to become accustomed to each other's presence, and long enough for familiarity to breed contempt. Every bug and beast fawned over the hero of Pharloom. Only Lace had the perspective to understand how infuriating the spider truly was. She was a woman of few words. Which is to say, she never explained anything unless Lace interrogated her like a Chorus inquisitor. Upon saving her from well-deserved oblivion, Lace had demanded Hornet explain herself. The spider’s response was simply, “Because I wished it,” and elaborated no further. A similarly evasive answer was given after Hornet’s baffling offer to share accommodations. Utterly infuriating and confusing. Yet, having lost her mother and gained a future neither wanted nor expected, Lace was too lost to do anything but acquiesce.
On a normal day, Lace would have shattered their silence a dozen times over by now. A needling here and there (metaphorically, and sometimes literally) would be enough to spur Hornet to respond with her own barbs. Their verbal sparring would eventually settle into something more... Lace didn't have the words for it. Less combative, she supposed. But, well, Lace hadn't been in the mood to play her usual part. And admittedly, Hornet's lack of reciprocity in the endeavor stung.
By the time they reached Blasted Steps, the morning light just began to shine through the windblown caves, and Lace's impatience had won out over her petulance. "We have walked for some time now, spider, but you have yet to share any details about the journey ahead. How many days and nights do you plan to march us through the wastelands?" she queried, "I know quite little about the lands past its western edge, though I have heard pilgrims speak of its unfriendliness. Of the retinue that sought you out, very few ended up returning."
Hornet answered as their walk continued. "I know not how many bugs set out from your mother's keep. But, of those that survived to meet me in combat, the majority fell to my needle." Lace would have rolled her eyes at the brag if she knew the bug was incapable of it. "Some too did meet their demise in the journey back, I recall. However, their fates were more a reflection of their fitness for travel than of the deadliness of the journey itself."
Lace hummed, "And you think this silken husk of mine fit enough for the task? Or is this part of some fiendish plot to finally rid yourself of me?" Hornet cast her a glare in response, but all that did was spark a small glimmer of that old fire in Lace. She giggled, "Ah, of course this was your plan all along, spider! But in what manner did you imagine the deed? Were you planning to have me dashed across some jagged rocks? See me shredded in the fierce wind, or perhaps washed away by a passing storm?"
Hornet turned forwards again, exasperated. "Must you speak so?"
Yes, this was how it should be. A strike, riposte, then response. The bow that would begin that familiar dance between enemies. "Ah, of course, dear spider. Rude of me to assume a hunter such as yourself would take such an indirect method to dispose of me! You'd much rather drive the killing blow yourse-"
"Cease." Hornet snapped. The dance came to a halt before it could even begin in earnest. The spider’s words were sharp as always, but betrayed another feeling beyond it: loathing. "This journey will be long enough without listening to you pine for the sharp end of my needle."
It left a bad taste in Lace’s mouth. A dozen retorts ran through her mind, all which died quickly upon her tongue. She was not so cowed to move on without response though. With a huff, Lace brisked ahead of the other bug. She even attempted to add stomping to the show of displeasure, though this was unfortunately thwarted by the softness of her silken limbs. Hopefully the motions were enough to send the message. She was not in the mood to look back and confirm either way.
Hornet fell silent once more, probably relishing in her retaining her standing as the most annoying bug in the whole world. (If only because Lace, a mere husk, was not eligible for the title.). Lace thought she was left again with having to fill in the blanks, but her next barb was stopped short by Hornet's voice behind her.
"Reaching Pharloom on foot took a week upon my capture," she began, her tone evening back out to its usual range, "But this was by common bugs limited by their need for rest, further burdened by a cage carried with too-few bodies. Were I alone and to forgo sleep, I could probably cross the distance in two or three days, but-"
"Well, excuse me for weighing you down."
"...--but I have arranged faster means of transportation. A trader is headed that direction and is willing to drop us off a few hours walk from the kingdom's edge."
…
And so there was. By the time the morning’s light shone full across Pharloom, Hornet and Lace were loaded into the back of the traveler's covered wagon and on their way.
The chosen method of travel certainly would be faster, but of course, leave it to the spider to trade efficiency for comfort. The wagon was nearly filled to the bursting with crates and sacks, leaving the two to squeeze into the tiny remaining floorspace available. Despite dawn having well passed, the wagon's interior was nearly dark as the night as well. Only a few mere rays of light streamed into the gaps of the thick canvas, alighting dust that kicked up with every small bump in the road.
Lace’s hopes to put distance between her and the loathsome spider were dashed as soon as they were formulated. The most she could do was cocoon herself in her cloak and hide away from it all. From the spider, who would not even give her the dignity of her anger. From this life she never wanted. From this annoying journey she had no choice to partake in. The world narrowed to just the rhythmic jostling of the wagon, and the swirling particles she could see through the slim gap of fabric, then narrowed further still. Her body felt heavy. Felt like she was cocooned in something thicker, more viscous than just thin, aged fabric, like…
"--ild."
…like nothing. The hollow husk of silk, so light that it could float away with a slight wind, felt like nothing. Sound and vision both blurred into meaningless shapes.
"Lace." Something touched the husk. Lace looked down to see one of Hornet's claws resting on her hand, which was curled into her cloak with a deathly tight grip. She released it. She flexed and unflexed her hand to work the tight tendons out.
As her senses slowly eased back, she realized she had not responded. A quiet "mm," was all she could currently muster.
Hornet responded with a tone as gentle as her touch. "We have another half-day before the agreed upon departure point." (How long had Lace been staring into space?) "Following that, we will make our way on foot quite a distance to reach the entrance, and further still within the kingdom's bounds. You should rest. Properly."
"Perhaps." She was tired. More tired than her silken body should be with such a brief journey on foot. Such a fact was undeniable, but she hesitated. "With so much rattling in this tight space, it takes all my focus to remain steady. Were I to relax, I'd soon find myself tossed sideways into you like a child's doll." Lace's bluff held none of its usual bluster.
"Such forces are outside both your control and mine. I suppose you will have to yield to them and borrow my shoulder," Hornet replied.
Lace snuck a peek from the gap of her cocoon. Hornet wasn't looking back at her. Her head was tilted upwards towards the ceiling. Perhaps staring at the swirling dusty too? Or maybe her eyes were closed shut in rest. She could not tell.
Lace would be normal about this. She could be normal about it, for the few hours they'd be trapped in the back. With only slightly strangled noise, Lace leaned her head down into the crook of Hornet's shoulder. After a moment, something pressed down atop her head.
Lace couldn't stop the huff of laughter from escaping her lips. "I am no fool, you scheming spider."
"Hm?" Hornet replied. Lace tried very hard to ignore how the hum reverberated between their bodies.
"You may feign concern, but I know what you truly sought. Craving the soft silk of my form to use a pillow, what a lech you are."
Hornet hummed again, this time with the subtle upward pitch Lace had learned was the closest her companion ever approached laughter. "I would consider it a fair trade for the provided service."
Lace scoffed, "What service? Your body is as chitinous and hard as ever, even with that downy cloak atop it. Hardly an even trade for the plush, divine silk you now take advantage of."
"You may remove yourself if you find this transaction unsatisfactory."
Lace did not move. She shut her eyes to the swirling motes, curled her cloak around her, and let the turning wheels be her lullaby. Tomorrow things would return as they always had been. The loathsome white knight of Pharloom, and the obnoxious Weaverling from a far away land, forever locked in their dance of hatred that Lace could never let end lest it ruin everything. Tomorrow. But tonight, she would sleep.
Half-muffled by the silken headdress, Hornet spoke once more, "I will wake you when it's time to depart," before falling silent for good.