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"Remind me," Lace asked over her shoulder, her neck craned back as she fiddled with the latch of her half-cloak. "Why did we agree to go along with this?"
Hornet stood tall across the room, head bowed and hands busy. She'd wrapped sheer fabric cords in crossed patterns around her horns, and now hooked trinkets and bits of jewellery onto their embroidered hems.
She wasn't used to this, either. She'd spent so much of the past centuries on her own, eyes fixed on the shadows, that the thought of attending a party sounded like a sad joke.
Lace might once have attended more parties than her, but those times were long gone. Like Hallownest, Pharloom had fallen into shadow, and the joys of the court had fallen with it. Hornet couldn't say she cared much for royal courts, not after all she'd seen, but she'd seen far more genuine joy among the common folk.
All bugs lived bound to webs out of their control, some higher than others. Those at the top might be raised enough above the earth to catch the occasional glimpse of sunlight, but they were prisoners, nonetheless.
Those at the bottom seemed the only ones who understood the importance of community.
Even Mother couldn't see it.
Hornet narrowed her eyes, and suppressed the familiar echo of pain that pulsed in her chest. She cleared her throat, and answered Lace.
"They're our friends. I've no desire to see them suffer."
She picked up another trinket - a string of painted beads, coated in gloss so they shone - and affixed it to her horns.
Behind her, Lace let out a harrumph of contempt.
"Surely your absence is a suffering they can manage. They're adults, as much as mortal bugs can be; surely, they can enjoy a party by themselves."
They've certainly suffered worse, Hornet thought to herself, conceding.
The fleas had suffered, most greatly at her own hand. After she'd unleashed the darkness, all of Pharloom had known pain beyond words.
She tightened her expression, and pushed away the temptation of guilt. She would not let herself dwell on it tonight, not when the fleas had invited her to join in their celebration. They were a jolly group, even after their hardship.
I could stand to learn from them, as young as they are.
"Not all of them." She eyed Lace through the mirror. Lace had turned to face her, flattening her cloak over her shoulders. "There are children in the caravan."
"Yes, yes," Lace raised her brow, staring at Hornet with something nearly accusatory in her eyes. "Children that seem to have captivated you, in ways I'll never understand."
Hornet narrowed her eyes, and her mask warmed. If she'd had hackles, they might have bristled.
Was it a crime that she loved the little fleas, who were so pliable, so soft to the touch? They were friendly, too, and all too happy to crawl into her lap to enjoy her pets. Was it really so wrong for her to appreciate the finer things in life?
"You've a foul attitude, Lace," she muttered, breaking eye contact. She tried to attach another string of beads to her horns, but her hands were fumbling, now, and she failed to hook them in place.
"Not so foul that it's driven you from me." Lace pushed away from the dresser she'd been leaning against and sauntered over. She took the string from Hornet's hands, and delicately hooked it into place. "You take every opportunity to pretend you don't care for me as much as you do. I wonder, what does that say about you?"
"It says that my patience should be commended." Hornet allowed Lace to take over, folding her hands at her abdomen while Lace picked up the various trinkets and jewels she'd laid out and attached them to a spare strip of fabric. "And perhaps, it says that I find you endearing, even when you insist on insulting our friends."
Lace tittered softly. She tapped a finger to the space between Hornet's eyes. She'd lifted a little bell in one hand, but she grew distracted, then, staring Hornet in the face.
"No accounting for taste, I suppose."
Hornet looked back at her, a low purr rattling in her chest. It was an unpractised sound, one she hadn't made for most of her lonely life, but now they'd found something like peace, she was slowly getting used to it again.
She couldn't find the words for a clever response, so she only hummed.
"Mm."
Lace's eyes squeezed almost shut, sly and far too pleased with herself. She loved toying with Hornet's patience. She seemed to have something of a talent for finding the exact buttons to press which would get her what she wanted.
Hornet couldn't help herself. She stepped closer, touching her brow to Lace's, and they brushed their masks against each other, both of them purring.
Lace had chosen a headdress as part of her outfit. It covered her crescent horns and met in the centre of her brow before crossing in strings under her jaw, a jewel affixed between her eyes. Displeased by the jewel's sharp point digging into her mask, Hornet brushed her face along Lace's, sliding to the side to drag their cheeks together.
A chirrup fluttered from deep in her chest, interrupting her purr. Lace lifted her chin, contentedly pressing her jaw against Hornet's, and Hornet lifted her hands to loop them around her waist.
"The cloak suits you," Hornet murmured.
Lace's half-cloak draped over her shoulders and upper arms. It was ornamented, embroidered all the way over its surface, with silk-tufts hanging from its edges. It swooped low at her back, dipping to the backs of her knees, but at the front it only dipped to the slender kink of her waist. It reared up her throat, its top hem tickling the underside of her jaw, and it was fastened at one shoulder with a floral brooch.
"You don't look so bad yourself," Lace answered her with a surprising lack of snark, and reached up to bat at Hornet's jewellery. It jingled, but none of it came loose from where it was fastened.
"I'm not so different from usual," Hornet argued.
She'd chosen a slightly more decorated version of her usual cloak. It was still red, padded with faydown. Beads were sewn into its hem, which, in combination with her ornamented horns, made her clink and jingle as she walked.
Underneath the cloak, she'd chosen a jumpsuit - a sleeveless top connected to loose trousers that flared about her knees before coming in to fasten snug around her ankles. It was black, subtle, but softer than what she was used to, and it would allow her to remove her cloak if the night grew too warm.
"You might say that," Lace disagreed, pulling back. "I wouldn't agree. I rarely see you choosing aesthetic over practicality."
"This is practical," Hornet scowled.
"Oh, I'm certain."
"It is. There's nothing I'm wearing here that isn't useful to me in some way."
Her temper flared, her pride wounded, but she faltered before she could argue further. Lace's face was twisted in smug satisfaction.
You. Hornet scowled, and took a deep breath. Of course, you were riling me on purpose. By now, I'd think it'd be easier to avoid getting riled by you.
"Must you fight me every step of the way?"
"Of course." Lace's purr grew louder, grating in her chest. She was much too pleased with herself.
Hornet turned away, striding toward the door.
"Come, and mind your manners. Let our friends make merry without your scorn."
"Wait," Lace called out, and caught up with her to reach up and hooked the last stray bell into place.
"Ah," Hornet ducked her head to let Lace reach up, and stepped back to look herself over.
From a brief scan in the mirror, she thought she looked as put-together as she thought possible, but it had been a long time since she'd had to care about her own appearance.
"How do I look?" She glanced over for Lace, who reached up, curling a hand over her mouth in thought.
"Turn around," she instructed, circling her other hand's fingers.
Hornet twirled obediently in place, giving her a view of her outfit from all angles.
"Mm," Lace cocked her head, squinting in thought. "Lift up your arms."
Hornet frowned, but did as she was told. She wasn't sure if this was another trick, or if Lace had truly spotted something wrong with her outfit.
"Arms back down," Lace instructed, and cocked her head the opposite way. "Now shake your head."
Hornet paused, and pinned her with a sharp look.
"You're just trying to make me make noises."
Lace snickered.
"With that last one, yes. Before that, though…"
She turned, tapping her fingertips to her mouth, and bent to rifle through her drawers.
"What's wrong?" Hornet frowned, craning to peek over Lace's shoulder. Lace waved her away.
"Patience, little spider. I'll know what I'm looking for when I find it."
Hornet lifted her brow, quizzical, but leaned back against the cool metal wall of her bellhome to wait.
It wasn't a quick search. Lace muttered to herself, tossing bits of fabric over her shoulder as her frustration grew. She shoved some drawers shut before opening new ones, digging through the piles of clothes, bits of jewellery, trinkets from their travels, tools, and spare silk bobbins.
Hornet was tempted to ask if she needed help, but she knew Lace well enough to know she'd only receive a haughty snort in response. She preferred to prove herself capable, wherever she could, even if that meant she'd face added difficulty.
Lace paused here and there, tapping her foot on the ground, drumming her fingers on the dresser, but then dove back into her search with renewed passion.
Eventually, she shot upright with something twinkling in her hand.
"A-ha!"
"What's that?" Hornet pushed away from the wall, squinting at the little pinprick of gold between Lace's fingers.
"Hush," Lace drew near. She lifted Hornet's chin with a push from a single finger, and pulled up the top hem of her cloak.
It had been folded over itself, resting against her shoulders, but Lace folded up that hem to fit snugly around her throat, and pushed the little golden trinket through the two sides of the fabric. She clipped something in place, and then stepped back, her face a picture of satisfaction.
"There," she beamed, and Hornet crossed the room to look back in the mirror.
Lace had pinned her cloak around her throat, matching the fit of her own, and the little brooch was in the shape of a little golden feather. It much resembled one from Hornet's own faydown wings, and admittedly, it did a great deal to tie her outfit together, matching the gold in her horns' accessories.
She chirped to herself, turning her torso this way and that to admire the way the brooch sparkled.
"What do you think?" Lace bent to one side, cocking not just her head, but her entire upper body. Hornet snickered, and reached up to rest a hand over the brooch.
"It's lovely," she answered her honestly. "Thank you."
"Of course it is," Lace preened, puffing out her chest in pride. She spun on her feet, marching back to the door. "Come. We mustn't miss the festivities."
Hornet bit back her instinctual sigh, and followed her out the door.
In truth, she couldn't find it in her to be irritated with her. Lace's gesture helped her outfit, certainly, but more than that, Hornet could recognise it was a bid for affection. It made them match, at least in silhouette, and that was affection more public-facing than what was their normal.
Neither Lace nor Hornet enjoyed broadcasting their private lives. They were both private, both healing, and both of them stood lifetimes apart from the bugs that surrounded them. It was isolating to have such vastly greater life experience than their fellows, and it lent them an understanding they couldn't expect anyone else to share.
She and Lace didn't have labels strict enough to declare. Mates wasn't nearly descriptive enough; they were simply them, a bonded pair that understood their dynamic and didn't care to explain it to anyone.
They'd gotten comfortable with their quiet partnership. Their friends knew they lived together, expected one to be nearby when the other was seen anywhere, but it was rare for them to make a statement of their bond.
Hornet reached up to grasp at the fabric under the brooch. Her chest was doing something fluttery and unstable. She bade it to settle.
"Must we travel on that beast friend of yours?" Lace's voice was reproachful.
"Yes," Hornet eyed her as they leapt down the cavern walls to the bell-covered floor. "What quarrel have you with Eira? She's a kindly beast."
"No quarrel," Lace sniffed. "But she rarely makes for a smooth ride. I'd rather risk the long way."
"We've no time to travel the long way," Hornet led her through Bellhart - or, at least, what remained of it. It was so much quieter here after the corruption spread. "You made certain of that with your hunt for this brooch."
Lace huffed, turning up her nose, but she followed Hornet through the grim, twisting tunnels to Eira's favoured spot.
The Bell Beast was friendly, indeed. She didn't speak in any language Hornet could understand, but she wasn't mindless. She was intelligent enough to make a deal with Hornet, to help her traverse the buried bell-tunnels rooted throughout Pharloom.
She wasn't there when they got to the usual meeting point. Hornet stepped up to the edge and cleared her throat.
"Eira!" She called out, her voice calling back to her as it bounced against the chamber's walls.
Nothing, yet. Hornet looked around, spotting a bell hanging low enough to be within her reach, so she whacked it with her needle.
The sound rang loud, reverberating so loudly through the chamber that it thrummed in her mask, and echoed through the other bells in a forlorn chorus.
That should do it. Content, Hornet stepped back, and turned to check on her companion.
Lace stood a few steps behind her, shifting her weight between her legs, visibly uncomfortable. Hornet returned to her side, and reached for her hand.
This, too, was more than what they'd normally do in public. As Hornet threaded her fingers through Lace's, Lace stiffened, and turned to give her a queer look.
"Are you well?" She pried, and Hornet glanced down at her.
"As well as you." She reached up to touch a finger to her brooch, and Lace's eyes opened wide.
She hadn't expected to be called out directly for the gesture, it seemed.
Hornet turned away, sparing her the eye contact. Lace was silent, stunned, which would normally have prompted a snide remark, but tonight, she held her tongue. She held onto Hornet's hand, squeezing her too tightly, and that grip only tightened as the ground began to rumble.
Eira burst from the earth with a guttural snarl. It was a friendly sound, although most wouldn't recognise it as such without knowing the beast. Bells were flung into the air with the force of her emergence,and showered down around Lace and Hornet. They had to sidestep to avoid being struck.
Eira hit the ground hard, her weight making the blanket of bells tremble. She drew close, pressing her nose against Hornet's stomach, and Hornet reached up with her free hand to smooth it over her scalp.
"Evening, my friend," she greeted her. "Have you the time to help us travel?"
Eira groaned, and lowered her head, presenting her shell.
Hornet scrambled up into place, and turned back for Lace. She was lingering on the platform, hesitant.
"Here," Hornet reached out, offering her hand, and Lace took it. She stepped gingerly up onto the beast's carapace, and tucked herself tightly against Hornet's back as she sat. Hornet reached down to press another hand against Eira's scalp. "Take us to the Petrified Ducts, if you would."
Eira crooned, a low, deep sound, and turned to race down into the yawning tunnel. As soon as they dove past the tunnel's lip, darkness swallowed them.
Lace's arms quickly looped around Hornet's waist, and held her tight. Hornet didn't protest her grip. She was far more used to this than Lace.
She tucked her legs under herself and lifted her head, enjoying the breeze on her face as Eira tore through the tunnel. With her speed, it would not be a long journey.
The darkness wasn't persistent. Regularly on their course, they passed under a tunnel that branched away and angled up. Some were twisted sharply enough for light to spill through, cutting through the murk and down to the faint ridges of the bells below. Hornet let the dim light wash over her, dipping the three of them in and out of view.
As Eira bounded up the twist that led to the Ducts, Hornet rested a hand over Lace's, and craned her head back to look at her, even through the darkness.
"Are you ready?"
Lace buried herself tighter to Hornet's back, refusing to respond until Eira slowed to a halt, but she took Hornet's hand when she dismounted, and held it still even as they wandered out onto the trail to the caravan.
"What are we to expect from this little gathering?" Lace asked, after a while of them walking in silence. It was the first thing she'd said since they'd met with Eira.
"Nothing grand." Hornet squeezed her hand. "Some music, I'd wager. There might be dancing. There will likely be food, and maybe games."
Lace nodded, turning the thought over in her mind.
"And how long are we expected to stay?"
"Eager to have me to yourself again?" Hornet teased, tugging on Lace's arm, and Lace turned up her nose, but didn't argue. She bumped her shoulder against Hornet's, knocking their path slightly to one side: Hornet righted them.
"Perhaps, little spider," Lace finally answered, but her tone was gentler than Hornet might have expected.
She turned to face her, and found her already looking back.
Unable to stop herself for the second time that evening, Hornet pulled her to a halt, and leaned in to brush her mask against Lace's. Lace purred, lifting her face to return the gesture.
"But," she said into Hornet's ear, and stepped back, pulling out of the embrace so they might continue their journey. "For now, let us join in the merriment of our fellows."