Archive of Our Own

It was a peculiar gaze present on Hornet’s face.  Proceeding the hardest battle of her life, perhaps relief could be expected, laughter, an air of exhaustion, but all Lace saw was a puzzling stare, directed at her, consisting of some emotion she didn’t quite understand. She couldn’t help but laugh at it. 

“Spider! You selfishly saved me yet you seem aghast that I now lay free!”

Hornet sat across from her. The comment seemed to push her from some other unrelated thought, her posture shifting into what she’d give a normal audience.  

“Hornet. That is my name. I thought it not necessary previously to mention. I am aware of yours though, Lace, many others informed me of so throughout Pharloom.”

“Hornet… then… your selfishness seems to apply further to introductions as well. Surely then that’s what your curious stare consisted of? Worried about the future? What to do with a silken child forever dependent on some impossible source of silk?” Lace has an evil smile on her face, “Your calm demeanor betrays the true situation, you don’t care about me, yet you do! And in so you never thought a minute ahead! So much for the ever cunning spider!” 

Admittedly, Lace was right in that Hornet didn’t think that far ahead. She was engrossed in concern for Pharloom, which simply never provided the time to think beyond when she killed the monarch, if. But really, Lace was quite far off what that stare meant from Hornet, it was never any conscious decision. After waking up outside of the void, the immediate worry was Lace. However, the moment she placed her eyes upon Lace, still unconscious, proper mortification was the only thing that occupied her mind. Here sat the real incarnation of a person she had just 15 minutes before, and days before additionally, fantasizing some reality in which she was a perverted character simply boosting her own resolve. It was unfathomably cringe. The raw embarrassment kept Hornet locked there, looking emptily toward Lace with a swirling mind of scorn and guilt, all consumed by a central thought: “that I must bury this lamentable indulgence for the rest of time, God forbid Lace ever know of it.”

That was the true nature of the stare, which she would have preferred Lace not to realize. Thankfully, Lace graciously provided Hornet a way out, even if it came at the cost of further humiliation. She slouched a little to sell the concept. 

“…that’d be right, I apologize for my rude introduction. I was hoping to move things along faster considering the unknown future with you.”

The words felt normal to Lace, but some part of her acted differently. It was a strange sensation, but her mind was more focused on acquiring some way to hold this over Hornet. Hornet takes the moment to stand up fully. 

“We can properly discuss it while leaving the Abyss. The path back through the Diving Bell will grant us plenty of time to come up with something.”

“An apology from you? I didn’t imagine you were the type,” Lace scoffed at the prospect. “How long would that return be then? I’d be quite lost down here.” Lace gestured to the open Abyss behind her. 

“The trek from the diving bell took me 30 minutes last time, though I imagine in our weakened state, taking extra caution to avoid hazards will make it take noticeably longer. Once I call Ballow from inside the Bell, I imagine our ascent will take some additional hours or so.” As Hornet finished the last words, she seemed to recognize something that perturbed her. The grip on her driven needle softened into a light tapping on its side.

Lace hadn’t brought any attention to it, but she certainly aligned with the Weaver in being totally spent. Her whole body ached in irritating fashion, had it not, she would have chosen to stand up already. Hornet standing up so fast was equally irritating, obviously more tired than her and more functioning at a quicker pace, like hell she wanted to be perceived as anything but somebody who can fend for themself. She’d already received enough pity from the spider for a lifetime, begrudgingly it brought Lace to her feet. 

“We should embark now then! Whatever quickest allows me to ponder some unknown new life. I don’t imagine you have satisfactory plans now either, with Pharloom destroyed and all. Quite contrary to what you originally sought?" Lace mused. 

“Right then, I will lead. However I do warn that many obstacles have obscure methods to pass them. I recommend keeping a wide eye. And yes, my plans have been sufficiently ruined.” 

Before Lace has time to tease, Hornet already rushed to the edge of the platform and began crossing large swathes of void. It wasn’t quite an obscure path… just frightening. Hornet took a pause to peer back after the second platform, spotting Lace now staring down the void at the first jump and accurately assessing her hesitancy in longjumping what had just previously possessed her existence. The extra time whilst speaking with Lace gave her some, if very short, time to consider what to do with the child. Nothing positive resulted from abandoning Lace to her own devices, she would shortly wither in time without assistance. Further details would need to be discussed with Lace, but Hornet didn’t want to upset her before any of this. Where exactly they stood together was… murky. The conversation was of rivals, but the actions: of meaningful friends. Hornet saw someone she should help, however why Lace reciprocated that tone was still confusing. Hornet hoped that it would extend into what she wanted to propose to Lace, but until they got to that point, Lace’s whims concerned her.

She had moved fully to face toward Lace, partially wishing to provide reassurance to Lace that she was waiting for her, though all Lace gave back was a glare. It took Lace a moment to try the first jump, the void beneath her unnervingly calm, the platform ending up being a little smaller than on first glance, something she’ll note for the next ones wishing a better landing. Hornet seemed mighty satisfied with it regardless and ended her pause, continuing swiftly past numerous platforms as she pulled herself through the air on thrown lines of silk. 

She cares for others, yet what appears for Lace is nothing but a drop from a restricted state. What draws Hornet to some forced stoicism while she so brazenly displays affection with other strokes? What’d truly be fresh is if Lace could flaunt her own superiority against this savior spider, and maybe then the weaver would spare herself some realism with what she actually wants. 

She finally catches up with Hornet, who is blankly staring up to the high ceiling. The void is no longer present, yet the room slopes upward creating its cramped presence regardless. At least it creates a comfortable spot to rest for a moment, the friction from pulling threads in each of her legs had become particularly noticeable with the first jump, and the following, and its following. Lace would surmise Hornet as stopping to do the same, considering the odd pair of railings in the center of the room she took to lean on, however she’s completely transfixed on something above. 

Lace approached Hornet and set herself up on the last available railing, it provided a nice moment of relief through all the traversal. “If you’re going to wait for me in the end spider, it’d behoove you to accompany me properly instead of thinking I’ll show your same reckless maneuvering lest I be left behind.” 

“I hoped my earlier pause would communicate reasonable pacing, I’ll try to stick closer to you as we advance, especially with some of the dangerous creatures—” 

“You don’t have to hold my hand Hornet, the superiority you give yourself irks me.” Lace uttered, cutting into Hornet’s description.  

Hornet spent a second trying to formulate a direct reply, which never came. “My earlier speed came out of worry for this passageway, I do not recall ever finding a linear way through. Its only path lies at the very top and out.” Hornet directed one finger up at the ceiling, the walls on the approach lined themselves with white shards and spikes, however a small alcove toward the right showed a safe platform of some unknown size. Looking around the rest of the room, Lace noticed now its claustrophobic nature was aided by lack of any options to leave, apart from the void lake they had just previously crossed. Hornet had situated herself directly underneath this hole from the start. 

“So then? Where are we making our new home here? This center spot will most certainly be mine. You can have the void, you seemed most excited jumping into it previously.”

“None of that yet, I have managed to exit this portion of the Abyss previously.” Hornet remarked. Lace knew something was hidden from her, Hornet was never typically this coy with her words.  

“And so that exit would be?” Lace stared at Hornet with a slight tilt in her head, the spider’s avoidant behavior would be a perfect object to pluck. 

Hornet did not change her expression any. One could mistake her for a statue, blessing Lace with pure satisfaction as her, perhaps originally short pause never came to a natural stop, and Lace had no doubt Hornet’s own conversational ineptitude was mixing excellently with that lurking reservation in her mind. Lace’s gaze never released any pressure on Hornet, and as the silence moved into embarrassment territory, Hornet quickly sat up from the railing and mentioned something. 

“Grab onto me.”

“What?”

“Grab onto me, Lace.”

“What exactly does your desire to be coddled have to do with leaving?”

Although she’d like to hide it, the common signs of regret materialized across Hornet’s body. A small depression off a confident posture, deeper breaths seeking personal contentness, quick desire to move on. Lace did not assist her in the slightest. 

Hornet talked sternly, the quicker it finished, the better, “I am going to launch myself up toward the hole in the ceiling. If you would like to come along, grab onto me.” 

“You would be so obtuse for this? I guess you really would rather leave me behind like earlier, clearly I am too much trouble for you.” Lace got up and walked toward Hornet, wrapping her left arm around the torso and throwing over the shoulder her right, encircling Hornet’s neck, rotating her into a hold directly facing Hornet. She can feel the spider’s neck bristle at the light and soft sensation now bestowed onto it. 

Lace thought Hornet immensely odd for her shy expression of content that’d normally be a footnote in the scheme of Hornet’s demeanor, but as Lace’s positioning on Hornet sat in her mind, an inkling started to form. The structure of Hornet’s body was solid, plated, and warm. Light-grooves interconnected felt through her cloak, recognizing familiar lines her pin would flow across slashes. The grip of Lace’s hands released meters of stress with a firmer hold. It needed fulfillment, drawing an ever-tighter request from Lace. The state bled warmth, she could almost release her legs to just hold and rest, an infinitely better break than the old railing could provide. 

A swirl of such observations entered her mind where her self-image promptly shut down their commands, yet leaks through that gate still festered and drove action. Hornet could definitely feel that tightening around her, it ate at what Lace wanted to show. Her eyes floated away from Hornet’s mask, and so followed her head, that dull mask imposed a weight of a thousand bells on her thoughts. Sweat rose through her thoughts and in the strands of her body. 

Lace was unfurled, torn and twisted by a storm of emotions all in stark contrast of what she should do. Follow the pleasure… but do so and now the overwhelming consensus is to skewer herself on the next adjacent pair of spikes. Why? Why did it all fight this way? What is this desire? The vague meaning of this position and of this gesture in general wasn’t completely unknown to her, but for it to be so extreme? She didn’t even know Hornet, what possibly could it be trying to say in this moment?

Hornet knew Lace would feel this way then? Or, this same mixed feeling can be projected onto Hornet. Hornet had wanted to move quickly to continue exiting the Abyss, but Lace’s embrace slowed any movement totally. Lace is partially appreciative for that. 

Hornet had moved gingerly to envelop Lace with her left arm. The hold she formed was firm, Lace thought it executed on a flake of indulgence, not purely for grip. Though in her eyes, it wasn’t an issue, apart from making it completely impossible to look at Hornet directly should she ever want to be in her company again. 

“..alright,” Hornet muttered. She tried to look at Lace, but found the same aversion to it Lace had, neither wanting to be reminded of the other in their peripherals. “Hold on properly, I’m going to head up in a moment.” 

“As if I haven’t! Waiting on you spider!” Hopefully that hid one last squeeze around Hornet that Lace wanted to get. 

The speed at which Hornet’s needle flew upward startled Lace, its following collision with the ceiling echoing a clatter through the shaped room. She didn’t have much time to recover before its silk connection started dragging the two together up into the air. It hadn’t been clarified to her earlier the strain Hornet endured with this move. Silk strangled her forearm, it was completely engulfed, and yet unending shaking was visible nonetheless through her whole arm. Lace couldn’t determine the pain in that arm, but based on the mirrored tensing in the one holding her, it was far from what Hornet should put herself through. This is not her first soar of the day either. 

As their speed slowed with the wall crevice approaching, Hornet swung them onto the ledge and recalled the needle back to her. 

“Quick. Easy. Right?” Hornet stated.

That liar. Pushing off of Hornet felt satisfying after that. 

“I would appreciate if we kept going now. There’s a much longer ascent later which we could occupy with such chatter.”

“There is no necessity for speed, but if that is what you wish.”  

“The only wish I have is that I could go alone, alas instead I must wait on you to show me the way.”

Lace expected Hornet’s glare upon her, but got none of it, since Hornet so rudely decided to start walking. 

“Why are you leaving?!”

“Your request to be on our way, I’m fulfilling it, and I suggest you accompany me.” 

Lace is very visibly annoyed. “Whatever daft reason you give for trying to avoid my victory in verbal sparring doesn’t matter to me. The fact I’ve gotten you to actually start moving is all that I needed.”

Hornet took no break to listen, and so Lace found herself—a bit embarrassingly—running to be beside Hornet again.

 “I may joke about going alone but your conduct begs for it.”

Hornet looked toward Lace, “It’d help me to know why, if you could. I do not think encountering any Gargant Glooms would bode well for you, you would not want any void from it touching you. Even past that, Ballow would only respond to me from the Diving Bell, thus you would end up trapped regardless of success finding it.” 

Lace pushed her eyebrows up, “That mindset for starters, and you’re annoyingly distant. If the Bell broke then it seems you would simply accept your new life hunting those Glooms until the void took you too, while I on the other hand would seek out a much more glamorous and hidden pathway.”

Hornet didn’t take offense, “We would be more alike then you realize, I had taken such a path through to Deep Docks previously. It collapsed shortly after my traversal, I do not think the Abyss would be so gracious to provide another such untouched pathway leading up above.” 

Lace thought for a moment at the comment. 

“Perhaps then this loops back into you being distant. Where possibly do you find the time for this? It appears you take weekly visits to the Abyss to go sightseeing. But at the same time, you’re a gift to the common bug and profusely care. The Citadel surely must agree with this assessment, we’d be able to tell by the grand upkeep and survival of its inhabitants.”

Lace reached behind Hornet’s neck to grip her shoulder. “But if you would, a premonition, just a striking epiphany. Pharloom does not look like this, no? Though if I’m wrong, I’ll be pleasantly greeted by the diligent work of craftsmen now freed from Mother’s curse, lining all pathways in and out. To a pilgrim your priorities contradiction is not a concern, but if you think that I wouldn’t be irritated by it then I am disappointed in your assessment of my character.” 

As satisfying as that was to spit at Hornet, it stung a little more than she was hoping. Hornet didn’t react to the comment any, the two just kept walking. Lace dropped her touch. Eventually Hornet had detailed “this way” underneath some larger platform, later adding it possessed the dangerous Gargant Glooms mentioned earlier. 

There wasn’t any body language that would objectively say it hurt Hornet, but the conversation ending that way just felt… strange. Hornet never seemed like the type to be so affected by other’s words, any earful Lace had previously given to her in Pharloom bounced off. Hornet said her thoughts as they came to her, first the Silk Soar and now this, her behavior did not follow its usual path. 

In neither cases had Lace been kind, really. She overlooked what exactly it meant for her to be standing here, in the Abyss under Pharloom, alive. Hornet had opted to spare her, and save her, and has more in mind for her that she is yet unaware the details of. There was significantly more than convenience at play here. Whatever the purpose, her behavior was not justified, she ought to be better. 

“Really though Hornet, you’ve acclimated here quite fast. With as much as you do, I do not fault you for some small chink in it all.” Lace felt a little better about herself. 

Hornet pushed up playfully against Lace, “I appreciate your appraisal of me, my brooding on your words lasted longer than what would’ve been best. I don’t consider it harm done, though.” Hornet’s does not look at Lace, but this is not an issue. She is invited to listen, but her presence is not required. 

“So that is the way I am perceived? I am acclimated, but not involved. I had not tried to, I helped as I saw fit. But the land warped around me, I had become a crucial part in many groups scattered throughout Pharloom, and I had no qualms with it. It was funny, because the walk we’re having now is a perfect representation of that. I found your thoughts valid, for what reason should I leech into everything I see: should my desire to do it be only driven by the joy I see others have, and not my own joy from being apart of it as well? I understand how I might be ‘cold’ now.”

So that’s it? Lace got a short chuckle from Hornet’s assessment. “You’re quite cruel to yourself spider, it was just my observation. I am still walking with you regardless of what I said, because as much as they are partially true, they do not outweigh your overall strengths. If you continue to stick around you will be warm in time. I would already say you’re ‘warm’ right now.”

Hornet didn’t expect that from Lace. It morphed into a beam evident across Hornet’s mask. “I will hold that close to me, Lace. I truly like your insight.”

“Flattery is not necessary! Though, I do accept rosaries. I imagine you have enough.” Lace peered at the rims of Hornet’s cloak. A grin followed. 

“I have a few… I’ll check what I can spare.”

“No no, really Hornet, I can steal them from anywhere in the Citadel.”

“About that…”

The remaining path back to the Diving Bell cycled in and out of the same playful banter. A smile was natural, she could not recall another such time between the snippets of silence. There had never been much to converse to, either bugs were annoyingly formal (she had taken pleasure in killing a few members of the Choir for this reason), too scared of her to talk, or haunted to extreme madness. A rival she could talk unrestricted to… the appeal was there the moment she met Hornet. And so immaculate were her responses! A match in wit, distinct in style and mental processing, Lace had never relaxed in conversation apart from this exception, which created a more docile and excited Lace. 

Was this meant to take 30 minutes? The weaver must’ve simply been slow the first time. Some jumps were treacherous, but nothing so to delay her to that magnitude. The diving bell was already in sight, highlighted with a backdrop of flowing magma veins. It seemed a little small, but as long as she could finally sit, Lace had no issue. 

“You should’ve left a pale oil for me! My poor pin could use such love after this void fiasco!”

“The hivesteel of this needle is just more needy, Pinley may still have a few spare drops if you’re really desperate, though.” Hornet stroked it with her hands in Lace’s direction. 

“That needle is my hostage! If my pin breaks I am taking possession of it, you really better hope that greedy blade can cough up some, or if not off Pinley, then some wish like you’ve siphoned them from.”

“Alas, all previous attempts to take it have failed. The diving bell is just ahead of us, perhaps its cramped size will make it an even playing field?” 

“Ballow will have to wonder soon why I am the only one exiting the bell.” 

The two reach the Diving Bell. It has been 30 minutes.

“I’ll enter behind you,” Hornet offered.

“Unfortunately I’m not able to steal it in that time.”

“Not much to steal, but you can investigate it.”

One could not predict the interior of the bell based on its outward appearance. The walls shone a much prettier, although still muted, silver. The intricate patterns suggested this was actually a closely maintained room for royalty rather than a metal shell to be thrown in lava. What was the purpose of this room? Had Hornet not long before detailed it, any observer would find themselves profoundly confused. A lone horn sprouted off one of the walls, a lone window on the door to peer outside, and a lone chair sat in the middle of it all. 

One seat. What a pain.

“There’s only one seat in here, Hornet.”

“I can talk to Ballow about it.” 

“I promise I will not be accompanying you on your weekly Abyss visits.”  

Hornet sighed. “Then just take the seat.” 

“Why, but this is your seat? The floor shall be mine.” 

“And I’m offering it to you, so please take it.”

“I don’t need it.” 

“You do, need it. Which is why I’m giving it to you.” Hornet looked at Lace plainly. 

“Am I not allowed to know myself Hornet?” Lace looked disgusted. “Must I always be the victim? I have trekked from the void fine, there’s nothing special to necessitate I take it.”

“Nothing?! I don’t recall you becoming void before. Your little care for your life is not something that I reciprocate nor wish to prolifer…” 

“Nothing, special,” Lace said, grinding her teeth. “There is not one drop of anything I’ve done which you haven’t exceeded. My strain? My strain!? Spider! When was the last time you rested? Al…”

“Yesterday.”

Lace should receive a gold medal for how much restraint she exuded in that moment. 

Lace slowed herself so even the most basic of lifeforms would understand her words, “All through your time in Pharloom one would think you’re secretly two distinct people.” Her eyes were wide looking at Hornet, “A year for a pilgrim to reach the Citadel? Ha!? Try a week. That’s not some normal, oh I need to get back to my home immediately!! reaction, it’s obsession. You’re obsessed. Absolutely obsessed with doing the best. Doesn’t matter what happens to you along the way. Not at all.”

Hornet took to pacing, “And so I shouldn’t? When I am capable, I shouldn’t? This land is living through my hand. You are living through my hand. This is what dedication looks like. I am satisfied with my choices, whether you are is not a primary concern.”

“Nothing in Pharloom owed you favor! You don’t ask for payment back? Fine. Then we will pay you back by looking after you. Starting with the seat here.”

“I appreciate it, but I don’t need it. I was and still am a hunter, I know myself.”

Lace was trembling, “But not enough to know you should rest?? The void cannot be too much for me, while not too much for you at the same time. I become void? You beat it out of me. I’m trapped at the bottom of the world? You dive to get me. Through all that I must travel back to the surface regardless? You’re right beside me. I saw your shaking during the Silk Soar! I saw your pause and push to play it cool! I noticed the rest you took on the railing! Am I forced to drag you down with me? Do I have no autonomy to say I want others to fare better than me!? If you care for me then let me be!” 

Lace had long begun crying.

“Lace…”

Hornet spent a minute lingering, but Lace had taken to the floor to sit and curl up. Sniffles could be made out, even if you couldn’t see them. Hornet had completely floundered this moment. The only wish was to have Lace sit… Lace should at least not be trapped with someone she hates. 

“Ballow, you can bring me up,” Hornet spoke softly into the horn.

“That’s you Hornet?”

“Yes.”

Afterwards, she opted to take the chair and sit. 

The shake of the bell starting to rise offered Lace a lapse in her sorrow. Still, she did not move. Such an emotional outburst… she would kick the walls if she could reach. It’s Hornet. Her existence disrupted the only tiny consistencies Lace had. New compassion? Joy? And some third feeling she couldn’t pinpoint. All originating at Hornet. If she didn’t think about it, she could appreciate it, but she has been granted only time to think. A construction across her life, but when its time came the mask shook vigorously. All the times she sat around Phantom, it was pristine. Rebellious, confident, cynical but content, beyond her earliest years life was just fine for her. So too was the first thought of Hornet, an addition to the cabal, a way to pain Mother. An effective slaughter would finally cap the show. Then she lost. Hornet did not kill her, and she ran. 

There first displayed the mysterious feeling which has not dissipated since. A nag. A need. Directed at Hornet. Why was she spared? All the reasons came back to Hornet wanting something from her. Implicit trust. She would be on edge until their next encounter. And all it would do is further her interest in that new spider. The opportunity to fight her came again, and so too was she defeated this time. It was almost expected though. Not so much Hornet’s then encouraging words. Even if she desperately wanted to play it cool, it was so overwhelming that she was guided into making an ultimate betrayal regardless. She would not call herself sane then, nor now, all that’s left for sure is that nagging sensation. 

Motivating. Encapsulating. Reoccurring. It had burgeoned during their ascent unpleasantly. Though if you ask her arms, they might disagree. Hornet is just too warm, chiseled…

There it is again! Why did this comfort so infatuate her? Lace dwelled only on it. Alike memories and experiences, despite her efforts to seek them, did not appear; it seems she had been successful hiding herself. Well, for only as long as that fake self has been herself…

Deep breaths. She would be okay. It’s just a quick thought, a quick check. 

The earliest memory she could recall was a Ventrica in the Cradle, the line of them, the sound, scared her. No servants could get her to enter one. If they kept trying anyways, they were now bleeding. As best they tried, they could not truly stop her from running back to Mother. Lace was young but knew she would not be there physically, she only ever surfaced for some minor patchworks on Lace’s body, yet the familiar, related sphere of silk drew her just as a real body would. Crying there felt relieving, it was mostly empty, but had a strangely soothing atmosphere. 

It was some minute she sat on the ground until all tears had stopped. It was confusing then to see the silk walls around Mother dropping; was there something to fix? She scooped up Lace and brought her to look eye level. The silk white hair flowing off Mother was beautiful, her hands a stark contrasting black, but equally comforting. One hand moved, and with a finger, caressed Lace’s head. Continually, a soft pressure Lace quickly eased into. Back and forth, silk gliding gently on silk. She did not need to move, she did not need to think, all the parts of life which confused her did not exist here, they were not a threat, she could focus on the movement back and forth, the warmth of touch. 

The stroking had stopped eventually, but her finger was still trapped there due to a small Lace holding onto it. Instead, she figured to move her whole hand, wrapping around Lace, and move closer, to a face nuzzle. Lace, enveloped totally by her Mother, could not get enough of it. All the sensations on her, every press on her arms and back and legs, the push on her face, and the push she gives to Mother’s face, of want, care, affection; she could melt. Mother had been successful in dislodging Lace’s hands, the only thing Lace could focus on now was fervently pressing back against her Mother’s face. 

nudge

nudge

The rubbing against Mom… hah… 

Her eyes heated up again, and then the tears. 

Mother did not expect the grip, but she understood. They floated down to the floor, until they were lying on it fully, and all through it Lace had to hold her mother, she had to, her arms demanded it. Crying stopped when Mom released her touch, but the well, and torrent came back harder when Mom’s two hands both came to cup her body. It’s okay, Lace can cry. Mom is here. Here for her. Holding her. Loving her. 

When all was done, that’s what Mother had for Lace. Love. An emotion manifest into physical creations, it was what Lace was. And when she had finally stopped sobbing? A small plushie, pushed into Lace’s arms, a miniature figure of Mother, squeezable and soft. Lace couldn’t resist its gift to be squeezed. This feeling was what she recalled, the call to hug Mom and squeeze and press and cuddle together as long as she can manage. Love. She could ride the Ventrica with her Mom in her arms, and she did. Love. Seldom could it not be found on her person. Love. For so long had she wanted to give Mother something in return. Love.

Well, had. 

Mother’s honeymoon with Lace faded with Lace’s form solidifying and her daughter growing older. The plush was a relic of who her Mother was, it had no chance surviving Lace’s wrath. Was this what reciprocal love meant? Cast away for some irrelevant half child from decades ago? What possibly could they give her? When she sat next to Mother obediently? Not even the original children, simply stealing what remains of their legacy. But sure, Lace is always kept alive, because surely killing the next disrespectful imbecile will elicit some kind of response. The next weaver to die by her hand will result in Mother responding. Something! Ahah.. she could kill her, she could. Each fiber of her arms and in her mind across her body all moving and calling commanding she should, it would make it better… Phantom could rest easy. Every time that bitch grabbed her she was ready, cut off her hair, sever the fingers, drag the blade across her perfect skin, drive the pin in her face and dig until she was skewered… she wanted to so badly. And every time she didn’t, she slipped away further.

And then there was Hornet. She could not hold a rival, the love could never be that fantasy. The only love which worked was hate. If it was forced on her again, her throat and pin were ready. That entrapment emotion would not get her again, it wouldn’t, she isn’t a child anymore, it wouldn’t, it would not, not again. Her heart was pounding. Never again, Hornet would not hurt her like Mother, she was capable of stopping that, she would, she is a free soul to die and live when she pleases, she is not a tool kept to be tormented, love will not keep her chained, the ruse of care won’t hold her. Softness as bait? She had seen it. Her heart warns her now with a clinging love, to run. Leave. Get out. Get out now. You haven’t escaped it, it’s here. Beside you. Sitting patiently for you. Ever so sweet for you. It’ll cradle you. It waits. For you. 

“Lace.”

…

Lace does not respond, thus Hornet starts again, “Lace, while you are still with me, I would at least like to go over what I had in mind after we left the void.”

…

Lace stops holding her legs, but alas, she is still face down on her knees.

“It’s good to know you hear me, you do not need to comment if you don’t wish to. I understand that you require your Mother to maintain you? I believe I may be able to accommodate for a time.”

where is it

The only item Lace can find in her hands is the cold floor.

“Assuming you permit, I am comfortable with you accompanying me for some time while we figure out how to permanently sustain your form.”

where…

With the smallest lift of her head, she sees her pin lying plainly against the curved wall of the bell by the door. 

“I do not mind. In fact, I thank you for your time with me here. It would be positive, I think, if we stayed together for some time. I figure I’m going to stay in Pharloom for a while, your assistance would greatly aid me and this kingdom.”

it’s all fuzzy…

“I have a bellhome in Bellhart, I suggest we head…” 

Hornet hadn’t expected Lace to stand so quickly. Watching Lace, wondering why. Her legs meander, but she’s facing the only thing she’d brought; the pin.

Oh.

Hands materialize on her seat buckle, Lace is at her pin now. Click, click, click… released! Dodge, and saved from the screeching metal-on-metal Lace punishes the chair with, a light scar now carved in its headrest. 

“Stop!” Hornet scrambles for her needle. It was by the door too, but Lace was too sluggish, too metallic to care. She seems confused there was no blood spilled on the seat.

Needle now brandished, Lace turns and charges again. Pin and needle clatter, Lace steps strong but her technique is weak. More attacks form a ferocious volley unlike her standard cunning. Lace is not at her best, and Hornet can feel it. But Hornet is on the back foot, her legs still ache from fighting, and walking, and now back fighting again. Arms aren’t any better, the needle weighs, she is slow to block, slower to strike back, she is sorely unfit for battle.

She responds poorly to two thrusts, an awkward angle, and now exists a light cut dug into her side. This cannot continue. 

She’s too audacious, Lace’s bloodlust emanates clearly, too clearly that Hornet manages a clean parry. Lace tries to escape, but the counter strikes her legs and she falls, Hornet quickly lunging to subdue her. She’s bound to the floor, Hornet sits atop her, now breathing heavily. 

Lace is giggling. 

“Ohhhh, I’ve lost. You just want to kill me now don’t you? Or is that too much for your poor heart? Am I not worthy, unlike my mother? No, you wouldn’t know about mothers you scourge, yours thinks you’re dead. Or maybe we already killed her!”

All Hornet has for Lace is confusion, “Why?!”

“Why what? Capturing her? Oh, I wouldn’t be able to remember. It’s so common, the transports into Pharloom, I could never notice her…”

Hornet’s hand presses onto Lace’s face, the impact and pressure makes Lace groan. 

“Why the attack.”

Lace has an awful smile, “T-The.. pleasure of death… you’d love it. Or I’d love it. Or I want it. I would take it gladly. I’d love for you to do it… since you don’t let me. You or me, both work. I’ll do it if you don’t.”

The pressure on her face lessens.

“The void infects you even now. I will have to go back for my sibling.” Hornet postures to stand up.

“No! Not true!” It makes Hornet stops. “You can’t lie about your intentions, Hornet. I see them. Eating my Silk Heart? You want me.”

“I don’t.” She had taken it, Hornet can’t manage a charged response. 

“Do! I’m like a little silk piñata to you. The strength off the heart must’ve been intoxicating.. you want more. What about my tongue? You’re sorely lacking verbal prowess. It’d be a great piece to try,” Lace suggests. Hornet decides stopping the bell from rising is a better choice. 

Hornet getting up is immediately followed by an awful rending sound coming from somewhere around Lace. Lace is wincing. Her mouth is pushed out slightly. Her shoulders are tense. As her eyes open, seeing Hornet staring at her makes her grin. She tries spitting some small piece at Hornet’s face, but it doesn’t make it. When Hornet picks it up, it’s soft, made of silk, yet oddly rough. 

Lace sticks her tongue out at Hornet, and a small piece from its tip is now missing. 

The connection takes a second to form. 

“You want the rest?! I can’t talk if I do. But sure!”

Hornet jumps back on her, hands grasp her face and twist open her jaw. Hornet’s knee goes to pin down her mouth, the now free hand quickly weaving a short structure. Lace is squirming, but still bound, she can’t move her head enough to escape Hornet. The structure is swiftly shoved into her mouth, keeping it open, and tied down by Hornet. Lace wants to bite down so badly. 

Hornet needs a breath, but the anger comes immediately, “I do not want to eat you, I don’t want your tongue, none of it! How are you going to get it back?! I have no reason to believe you won’t immediately mutilate yourself if I leave you alone, so you’re going to sit there, unable to talk or bite or move your mouth until I decide you’re stable enough to be permitted such a basic function.”

Lace rolls her eyes. 

“You want to convince me of some nonsense, you cannot do that if you cannot talk. I will only let you talk if you don’t hurt yourself. Decide your fate. Emote when you’ve become more civilized.” 

Lace was well practiced in the art of being the most stubborn creature in any room, but unfortunately for her this was an extremely uncomfortable situation. Her legs and arms were kept still, Hornet sat on her chest (it was gonna be sore), her mouth propped open too strongly and watched intently. Best of all! She just got tackled, after walking for 30 minutes, and while she owed sleep big time. She’d love to sleep right now just to piss Hornet off, if not for that mild cold breeze deciding to taint all parts of her mouth forcibly. And on her tongue especially. She felt like she would choke if her eyes closed. It would be the hardest concrete skull competition she ever participated in. 

A minute, Hornet’s stare deals exceptionally more damage than she was expecting. She felt small. 

Another minute, she tried to look away but Hornet followed her. If only she could get up.

…

Fine.

Lace looks directly at Hornet, then down, and back. 

“I do not trust you. Do it again after another minute and I’ll consider it.”

Lace’s stare at Hornet was filled with annoyance, but she obliged. Another minute, her throat is begging to be cleared, she moves her eyes again.

“Do not bite me or yourself if you ever wish to talk in my presence again.” Hornet gets closer, takes her hand and starts to undo the connections of the gag, though it’d be easier if Lace stopped wiggling. Lace swallows immediately once everything is removed. 

“Agh, Hornet, I never thought you’d do something so crude.” 

“So you retain some sense even now, I will work to fully fix your void problem as I originally set out to.”

“Hornet. I am not voided. It is not in me. It’s all gone. I hate you, I know what you want out of me. I am not a fool, don’t treat me like one so help me, I will not suddenly decide to change my mind because you provide an out acting like I’ll concur and that the sane lace was never actually the one to say it.” 

Hornet is not shaken by her words and instead gets up to go talk to Ballow.

“Do not try and fucking ‘fix me’ Hornet I swear to god, I will make your life a living hell. I will use every mean possible to kill myself. Be honest about it and kill me right this instant, or eat me, or something. I will not be your silk battery for if you’re about to die, I am not wasting more of my life just to die for you, I will kill you first, I will make sure of it.”

Hornet was ready to speak into the horn, but something about it drew her back over to Lace.

“You will be hell to me?” Hornet inquires.

“Fuck you.” 

“It’s not a mock. Why would you be with me?”

“You’re gonna try and make me redact what I’ve said about the void.”

“And you would somehow be a silk source regardless? What happens then if you didn’t say it?”

“Love traps me with you. Your crude affection. A kind soul, so true, so fun to talk to, it’s all fake.” 

“I am that way to everybody, not like I’d kill them.”

“Oh, so you don’t love me then Hornet? That’s why you did all this right?” Lace’s head turns to look across the whole diving bell. “Because you don’t love me? This is just normal right? You do this uninhibited? Cause you have nothing to gain? You’re ridiculous. Don’t waste my time fighting your stupid lies. I wish I had bit off my tongue fully, then I couldn’t even entertain them.” 

Hornet wishes she could just say, I don’t love you, but those words in her mouth shake her, she can’t. “Then if I’d simply… let you go?”

Lace scoffs, “You’ve already ensnared me. That won’t happen. My day will come, if not today, maybe in my sleep, maybe when I’m in battle with you like you want, maybe just roaming around trying to live my life. You will come for me because you know I will come for you.”

Hornet walks over by her hands and sits down, she tries holding Lace’s hand but it’s balled up. “A thought experiment then, Lace.”

“Don’t touch me.” Lace moves her hand as much as the restraints would allow. 

“It is my will to use you when I am desperate, supposedly, and you want to stop that outcome?”

Lace doesn’t look at Hornet, “By killing myself, yes, I would like it.” 

Hornet seems determined, “If I do not do so when it is my last opportunity, surely it must not be true then.”

“You could be incompetent too, I wouldn’t put it past you.” 

“Let me prove my resolve to you, then.” 

Hornet stands back up and grabs her needle. Both hands, on its hilt, a slight quiver, and then, stab. Into her stomach, she drops to one knee, she grimaces and pulls. Across her body, a new wound is made, fresh, and of her own blade, by herself. Lace cannot speak. Blood starts dripping onto the cold, barren floor. 

Hornet struggles to speak, she phases in and out of rambling noises and word beginnings, she has to let her hands fall, let herself breathe before she can say anything.

“I will not… eat you… Lace…” her head drops down. “If I r-really will eat you.. let me die..”

Lace has no words. 

Hornet grabs her needle again and looks up at Lace. Lace only sees sorrow on her face. The needle comes down, but on Lace’s bindings. Blood pools on Lace’s chest, still leaking from Hornet. Each one, now fully cut, and she is free to move. Hornet drops fully to a kneel. Lace bolts up and watches.

“B-but ifyou thinnk for a moment… of how I won’t…”

Hornet is tipping, her arm is holding her up weakly.

“eat yo..u, before I die, you will…” Hornet fully slumps over.

Lace expects her to finish. Nothing. It’s just her in the bell with Hornet bleeding out on the way to Pharloom’s surface. Where’s the game? When is she getting up? Lace will just sit it out surely, this cannot trick her.

But.

Did she? 

Actually bet on Lace? 

Oh god oh…

No, this is what she wanted, right? Dead? 

Surely she expects Lace to save her. It’s calculated. She won’t die. 

But if she could eat her, why the risk? 

Blood is collecting where Hornet lies. 

But Hornet would know Lace knew that she wanted to eat her and that made Lace not cooperate and try to get away and stab her so she would know Lace would want her dead like she said or her own death so she would know that Lace would not save her and if she knew she would not save her then she would eat Lace and live or avoid and capture or gag or trick Lace but not risk herself when the goal is life.  

Blood is at her foot, it’s red. 

Her own mind is an erratic tempo, Lace is panicking, she feels her heart.

Oh right, empty. 

Red on red cloak does not look good on Hornet. She cannot decide. 

But Hornet let her decide.

She is a free soul. 

Blankets and a killer headache. She’s back in her bellhome, she would get up if her body didn’t suddenly weigh a ton. There was nothing on under the blankets. Looking left, a new chair in the corner. Right, a bed, with Lace placed in it. She did not have her headdress on, all the hair was left to flow. There was some light markings on her upper body, but she was also covered in blankets. She was not awake. 

Her desk and other resources had been moved out of the way for Lace. A quick scan found them, and her needle, occupying an empty spa. How did they get up there?

Hornet tried moving again, no luck. 

She was too focused on how the spa might have been drained to notice the door to her Bellhome opening. 

“Hornet-Wielding-Needle!” Shakra came in carrying a plethora of items, some water, more folded blankets, a relatively thick book, and Hornet’s cloak. “You wake! Be still…”

She set down all but the water. “You have endured serious harm! You must rest further.” 

Hornet wanted to respond, but felt terribly hoarse. All she could do is look at the water. 

“Water? I will give all that you request.”

She brought the bowl to Hornet’s mouth and poured it incrementally. 

Hornet’s throat felt a lot better, she could manage a “Lace.” and direct Shakra over to her.

“Vralaka… I do not know how she is doing.  I found you two in Greymoor, she held you and collapsed shortly after I arrived.”

Shakra leaned closer to Hornet. “Your friend? Truly marvelous. It is excellent you found a bug such as her, many tears across her skin, she appeared more exhausted than you, even with the gash across your chest. Blood covered her, she really did save you. When I approached all that she communicated was affection for you. Only few have I seen with such a potent connection.”

Shakra’s face furrowed, “But… I do not know if she lives. Kahh… there was never a heartbeat. Yet I do not know her. Unlike you, her construction is of some strange silk as like had previously been haunting these lands, she does not bleed. I cannot say if she is dead without your knowledge. I sing for her recovery, and for yours.”

Hornet gave a light nod. 

“I will be sitting, let me know if you require anything else.”

She couldn’t move, or talk well, only granted the ability to think. 

God she was an idiot. She was stupid. So stupid. It is a miracle she is alive. And how? By Lace dying instead. God she was stupid. Oh yes, tear open a large wound on yourself, it’ll go amazingly. 

She remembered nothing past the first second.  Usually it took much more to make her pass out, last time it was to a chamber of some 20 bugs, she didn’t expect she’d actually… 

She was distracted, she was not honest, she was tired. Bone tired. She had thought about what to say to Lace in the bell, and of her bed. 

She was certainly in her bed now.

She tried moving again, there was some slight rotation in her arms but not enough. 

Lace was in a bed, asleep or dead. The light markings? Blood. Hornet’s blood. It was cleaned off by Shakra, but still soaked into her skin. Voided, beat, tired, traumatized, beat again, traumatized again, and forced to walk with an unconscious corpse to a refugee only passingly mentioned, Lace had done too much by step three, Hornet pleaded with her to rest, but failed, and so came this, and this fail. She picked up Hornet, trekked up through Deep Docks and out through Deep Docks, through Far Fields, through the vast stretches of Greymoor all to end up here. 

Hornet cleared her throat, “How many days?”

“Four.”

She could bind in 30 seconds. 

“Come, Shakra.”

She detailed how filling the spa would help her: but it would take time to move her possessions out and refill the tub, Shakra explained. Hornet approved, thus Shakra set off for Shellwood, leaving Hornet alone once again with her thoughts. 

Would she wake?

What could be tried? A bind too? But of what? It was just raw exhaustion afflicting Lace. But would that really make her sleep for 4 continuous days? 

…sleep?

Ah… positive thoughts…

That was among the things Hornet pondered, in addition to how to maintain Lace’s flowers in the Cradle, why her hair was down, and a detailed itinerary to work through trying to wake her. The first on that list was to sleep herself.

Hornet woke to Shakra lightly tapping on her shell. “The spa is ready, Hornet-Wielding-Needle.”

“Lift me in then, if you would. It will be but a moment.”

Placed in the bath, Hornet felt the hot water across her form soak in, and so too with its warmth came the tingling of new silk. It was pleasurable, but she did not do this for relaxation.

“Fren.”

Silk lines circled her body, converging on her stomach. A bandage still covered it, but streaks of an awful purple could be seen on the rims. Hornet watched them slowly recede with her bind. It felt like she’d stopped slouching after a lifetime of a broken back. 

“Shakra, my cloak.” 

She tossed it up to Hornet. Hornet descended from the pool shortly after. 

“I appreciate everything you have done for us; truly. I have caused undue trouble here, you have sacrificed your own time for my mistakes, I do not wish to keep you here any longer.”

Shakra gave her a warm smile, “It is simply what you’d do, your kindness is infectious! Do not punch yourself over what might have happened, though I do hope Lace wakes for you. I will respect your wish, but do not restrict what help you seek, I have fallen for this land same as you, you are apart of it and I want the best.”

Hornet felt a tad red, “yes I will try,” she turned her head away slightly. 

Thus Shakra departed, and Hornet was left to deal with her problem. Lace had yet to wake, and Hornet could not know if she was alive. 

A bind then?

Hornet moved the blankets off of Lace and began channeling silk. She weaved it through the muscles in Lace’s arms and legs, with a few light changes for the blood soaked areas on her skin. It was odd, doing it on another person, she tried being gentle, but couldn’t easily tell how well she was doing. All her reserved silk was used. 

Lace was still.

So Hornet sat on her own bed, and waited. 

Lace was still.

It took some time for Hornet to accept that it didn’t work, apart from fixing Lace’s tongue anyways. She still tried again regardless, no luck waking her, however it did cause her to recognize a subtle change in Lace: her hair was a shade darker than the rest of her body. Was it normal? Lace never had her hair down, so she couldn’t know, but Hornet had killed a certain withering sibling of hers, of whom she had seen their hair. Jet black. The darkening hair is more ominous than Hornet would’ve wished. 

But she is alive. Maybe. There just must’ve been a change to make Lace like Phantom. 

It is what Hornet spends the day pondering; the differences between the two. The lack of her mother consistently encroached in otherwise productive lines of thought. Lace needed a lot of silk, yes, Phantom was outcast from the Pale Monarch’s presence and so wouldn’t get it, but is it really so much silk that Hornet cannot suffice herself? Hornet thought again about stabbing herself in the bell, and the poor conversation when entering it. Inept is accurate for her. 

This did not get her anywhere—each time it took a willed effort staring back at Lace to get herself on track again—but the self-loathing made itself known in each thought no matter how Hornet concentrated herself on waking Lace. The sounds of construction around Bellhart, she sponsored the destruction. Zaza sat with a corpse, she was the reason and killer. Garmond fought for Pharloom, and against a curse she inflicted. The destruction of the last intricate pieces of architecture in the Citadel. All the pilgrims strung up and tortured by the void. Frequent admiration and praise for her deeds befell her somehow. Just so that Hornet can sit in her untouched home in Bellhart and sit here and think and get nothing done and rummage through that endless lineage of her mistakes and be sad and cry and try and hide it all from herself. 

Lace was still. Her face was blank. Off white hair. Pulse? Flat. 

Hornet fell asleep crying holding blankets reminiscent of her Mother. 

Sleep came with a fresh realization. Heartbeat. She had stolen Lace’s heart, and Phantom never had one. The heart refreshed her own deplenished silk, it was obviously the cause of Lace’s problems, which is exactly why she was completely unable to think of it yesterday. Though, practicality set in with this lead, and Hornet did not have a good way to approach it. She didn’t want to keep Lace’s heart any longer, but how was she gonna give it back? Knock herself out? Let Lace’s unconscious body reach out and claim it? Only she could think of such foolishness. If she couldn’t give it back, then a new heart would have to do. 

Ok. How. 

A sphere of silk was quickly fashioned to a similar size as Hornet saw Silk Hearts, and weaved together with Lace’s own silk. It did not begin pulsing, Lace did not wake up, as could be expected from a simple sack of silk connected to her body. Something made it go, not just a connection to a being. 

And so it all felt hopeless. Hornet laid against the side of her bed, defeated. Lace’s hair had developed a darker grey streak, she surely had no more than a week if not already dead. Hornet put off thinking, it did not help her, she sat with no aim and let time pass. Guilt would creep in for her doing nothing, and she would file that away too for future thought. She was good at that at least, deferring things to be done later, so she could go hang with some fleas, or something… 

The creative gene though, that was good, eventually thinking reclaimed her since Lace wasn’t going to magically move out of her house. It had to lie within the silk itself, silk brought Lace and others to life, but Hornet could not wield it in a similar way, thus there was how her efforts lacked. Create the heart with this silk, and revive Lace, it would work, she just had to get the silk. 

Hornet covered Lace with an extra blanket before leaving for Shellwood; she had brought an extra spool with her to stock up on silk for experimentation. It felt a little wrong, trying to purposefully haunt Pond Skippers, but it was for the greater good, she wouldn’t haunt them forever, Hornet said to herself. All she needed was for them to move on her command, that would be satisfactory. 

One poor skipper surfaced just to be immediately captured by Hornet. The bug is fully circled by light silk lines across its body. Hornet places it back on the water before trying to mentally have it move forward. The bug responds by flailing around, restrained by silk, before eventually sinking below the water and not re-emerging. 

It can’t be total entrapment then, perhaps brain related? Another Pond Skipper was retrieved, this time Hornet took extra care to get silk in its brain. It spasmed a couple times before eventually pacifying to the intrusion. She ordered the bug to move its leg, but nothing. Frustrated, the silk was strained harder; the bug would move, it was her will, her touch decided its life, hers, the disrespect was intolerable. The anger led to a slight curl in one of the Pond Skipper’s legs, which quickly dissipated once the skipper fully flexed and died. The dead bug filled Hornet with a feeling best described by her immediately ripping out the silk possessing it, causing parts of the bug’s face to come with it. 

Hornet came back to her bellhome 2 hours later with a spool full of silk and a lot of fresh experience. The key was passion sustained, her anger sparked results, it just had to be tempered. If she possessed the heart; it could wake Lace, then Lace could will it to beat. Her only task was to get it started. She just had to care. 

Returning to Lace, her hand pressed to Lace’s chest, silk moved to wrap her new heart. Contract, begin flowing silk, revive Lace, and let her live. Hornet was ready for it, but Lace did not wake. That’s fine. It will be protracted, but it will be done. Her hand stayed glued to Lace as her mind sought to build stronger resolve for her recovery, Lace had not deserved this fate, which is why her heart must regain its beat, and for Hornet to acknowledge her mistakes, she must see Lace face to face once more. 

She would stay in that position, there was no progress. Little fragments of doubt? Nonsense, it was a process. She was determined.

The silk connected to Lace gave her a window into the status of her recovery. She could feel nothing but the tension applied back to her claws by the strands. There was no sign of life, or activation for that matter. The persistent pressure of nothing. Hornet waited for it to change as she stood by Lace. Lace was still.

Her face is still, Hornet tries to avoid looking. The focus is on Lace living, but increasingly, that face, that hair, the focus is really on herself. This matters for more than Lace, Hornet needs it, she possesses Lace’s heart with that need, by gods, let her wake up. It isn’t just about Lace, the demand was for Lace by Hornet, it matters for her to wake Lace, she has to undo it all through her hand, that is only when it becomes settled. She knows passion must be consistent for possession, but consistent passion yielded persistent nothing, and her heart is not rational. 

The decline of herself over the coming hours was predictable, thus. Her own heartbeat rose, verbalized commands spat into the air, higher force applied by her hand, whiplash of anger to sadness and hopelessness back to anger as she just wanted something to show it worked, because something had to work, this is the way Lace lives, possessing bugs had worked, it must work on her too, it must… it must…

When she would normally sleep passes quickly, her mind refuses to entertain anything unrelated to Lace. Her legs burn, she doesn’t stop. Physical needs are irrelevant, and when emotional instability is a permanent accelerator, the only break is a crash. 

Hornet passes out from exhaustion some 20 hours in.

Her hand is not on Lace. Where is Lace? Stand up. Lace is still on her bed. Her hair resembles the Abyss they had left. Lace is still. Oh, it’s all blurry. Sit for a moment and recuperate. She was trying to revive Lace and failed. All the shouting and writhing and calling out for Lace to awake did nothing. She will die. She has no time. How fast will she wither? Fast enough for Hornet to remove her body before it taints the memory of her bellhome? No, it already has. She will sleep and think of the bed Lace died in. Each day drifting by and mocking her commitment. Her selfishness ruled her. Haha. No. Hornet will not be able to sleep. That’s good. She will be kept up by this nightmare and die from it. Would that pay Lace? Maybe. She could’ve paid Lace before she slept. Does Lace accept late payment? No. She isn’t here to take it. Why was she saved? Why? Why? To have no feeling in her limbs? Hornet did that to herself actually. Lace did nothing. She did everything. Lace is just a pedestrian. Like a pedestrian killed by a falling metal bell. A statistic. A kind life marks for death of another’s fault. It isn’t intended, it just happens, so that the construction worker can be tormented forever. She is serving her time well. Lace wanted her to live, thus she kills Lace. For sleep. For sleep. A night's rest. She thinks sleep is more valuable than Lace. Sleep. What will she do? Sleep more? She would be true to her values then. The pillow calls. Uh. That is Lace’s head. Lace looks like a pillow. Pillows look like the face of the person she killed. She is never sleeping again. Well. She actually can.

Hornet gets back off her bed and looks around. Needle. It was left by the spool back when she was collecting silk from Shellwood. Perfect. Holding it is oddly soothing, striking someone down, such a familiar feeling. She would see Lace soon. 

Her bellhome is unlocked. 

The door slowly opens as Shakra peers inside.

“Hornet-Wielding-Needle?”

The light of the home is on. No noise comes from inside. It looks similar to when she had left. 

Shakra sees Hornet sitting on the floor near Lace, holding her hand; the other hand wielding needle against her own throat. They shake profusely. She is staring at Lace. Lace is still. Lace’s hair is a dark grey. 

Her feet move instinctively to lunge at Hornet. Rings fly, targeting Hornet’s needle and hand holding it, Hornet is caught off guard and doesn’t put up a response, the needle is knocked out of her hand. Shakra works to subdue her, coming up behind Hornet before she can move and hugging her, dragging Hornet’s arms to her side and locking them there. Her legs fall on top of Hornet’s and clamp down, she is immobilized. 

“Be still! Be still! Be still..” Shakra commands. 

Hornet tries escaping, but Shakra is much stronger. The movements slow, Hornet is still, and then tears, drips, and sobbing she can’t stop. It all hits her, and the shame of Shakra seeing her like this, her body tugs against her restraints begging for the fundamental need of comfort. Shakra holds her dear, and places her own head upon Hornet’s shoulder. The intimacy makes Hornet cry harder. So much harder. She can’t breathe. Her heart can’t stop pounding. Everything is suffocating. Shakra shouldn’t have to see her like this, she shouldn’t. It’s all so wrong. 

“I care Hornet, I do, you had not left your home today or yesterday, I want your health, I do! I am here, be at ease.” The shake in her voice betrays a fearless demeanor.

Hornet can’t answer beyond noise and more crying. 

Shakra loosens her grip on Hornet, the hug is of support, not confinement. Hornet takes this freedom to wipe at her eyes, she is still heaving but wants to stabilize. 

“..lace..,” Hornet gets through her crying.

“You did as you could, you tried to save her, she would love you for it. We will not hate you.” Of her recent time with Hornet, the only thing Shakra thinks negatively of is leaving the bellhome herself. 

Hornet takes longer to cool down. Sniffles, mostly cleared crying, though her voice is still cracked.

“No.. I can’t be here..when she does.”

“Then she is,” Shakra is stunned, “…alive? Hornet, we have time still, we cannot be idle.”

“I…” Hornet pulls free of Shakra’s embrace, “I couldn’t. It’s all I wanted but I can’t. I just…” she starts choking up. 

Shakra moves to sit across from Hornet, she looks at her. “Hornet, I do understand this, your emotion is natural, do not be ashamed of yourself. But still, we have time, and failure with days to spare will scar your heart a million times more than failing with sweat on your head, and a confidence in having done all Lace could ever dream.” Shakra places her hands on Hornet’s shoulders, “If you wish to die…. I.. have no right to stop you… but if it is just about her, please, know I am here and willing, I cannot help her without you, for you to die while she still has time… that pike would not leave me. Please let me fail with you, till time give the final judgment.” 

“I can’t look at her.” Hornet tries not to look at Shakra either, “All I think of is what I did, it’s impossible! Impossible Shakra!”

“That is alright, if you cannot look at her, I will be your eyes. Take your time to recover, if you need an hour alone, we will take it, because that is what Lace needs to be healed, and what you need to be whole. I just need to know,” informs Shakra.

Hornet eyes Shakra before looking away again, her hands cup each other, “I could take that, uhm, a minute. Please.” 

Shakra stands up, “Then take time, as much as you need. I will be waiting on the porch when you feel ready.” Shakra grabs Hornet’s needle on the way out. She sees Hornet stand up before she leaves.

The flow of pilgrims to Bellhart has increased majorly in the past few days, Shakra would’ve thought it’d be a problem, yet they work eagerly to build out the town from its wrecked state. It is one of many things Shakra found herself wrong on the past month, almost all of them due to Hornet. The journey to Pharloom seemed perfect for the development of her physical skills, the change to her outlook on the world was unexpected. A willing guardian to Bellhart, the folk had grabbed her heart and rings. They all held an admiration toward Hornet, one they then too developed for herself. It was like an admission of failure to protect themselves, or so she had saw it, yet their hardiness exuded from every action. The determination was like her own for her master. They lacked combat ability, no matter, they worked in their optimism to optimize how they lived, all to further their mission, just as she worked to further hers. A difference in style, not weakness. The only weakness was of her inability to recognize it. 

Hornet had understood that, short but brilliant. Hornet saw joy from her actions and worked diligently to help, for they all sought to achieve their dreams, there was no reason to leave anyone behind. Shakra too received this help, a small happiness ensued before she understood what that connection fostered, and how she was really no different from any pilgrim; a soul with a desire for an exuberant life. Small happiness grew into a profound appreciation for whom she had unintentionally found in Pharloom. 

It was her duty then, to equally care for the person who cared for her. She wants Lace to live, but will that happen? Will Hornet be alright? She is already not alright, Shakra’s words were able to sway her, but that core conflict is unresolved. One mentor lost is enough for Shakra. 

The door of the bellhome slides open, “You can return, Shakra,” says Hornet. 

Shakra obliges, Hornet seems a lot better, though nothing else about the bellhome has changed. Lace continues to lie on her bed. 

“I have Lace’s heart, you know.”

“What?” 

Hornet has a cold stare, “We were enemies originally, I ended up stealing her heart during one of the encounters. Silk heart, specifically, for those involved with silk, myself included, it replenishes existing silk you’ve used.”  

Shakra tries to start but Hornet interrupts her, “I want to give it back but Lace has to claim it, and she is unconscious. I made her a new one but it doesn’t work, I can’t fix it, her hair shows she’s dying.”

“So if I understand then… she requires the heart to live and you cannot provide one?”

“I tried possessing her too, since I am part Weaver similar to the Pale Monarch. It showed promise in other creatures, but none toward her.” 

Shakra nods, saying, “In absence of other options, it might be best to pursue that further, at least to sustain her long enough to reclaim her heart.” 

To that, Hornet had some slight shifting, “I thought of another one whilst alone, but…” she struggles to verbalize the ending. 

“All ideas are worth considering.” 

The reassurance hurt, “The heart needs to be spun, Shakra. It needs to move on its own. It has to replenish itself. A spinneret is needed.”

Shakra lets out a noise of frustration, “I cannot recall ever finding a silk-capable spider from Pharloom.”

Well… not from Pharloom, but. 

Hornet stares into Shakra, blank face, eye to eye. 

“It goes in, I possess it to start moving, Lace wakes up.”

“No! How would you be awake? You would weave it in? You would be unconscious! It is self-destructive!”

“You have my needle, bring it to me.” 

Shakra backs against the door, “I cannot! It is my desire to protect you! We must think this through!”

“Shakra.”

Hornet drops her cloak, claws pointing toward the center of her abdomen, “Recall this scar? You had bandaged it. I inflicted it on myself. I am not afraid of dying from another such wound. If I do, so be it, for it’d have a noble purpose, unlike this..abhorrent piece of manipulation,” she lingers on the scar before turning her back to Shakra, “There are six spinnerets on my back, only one is needed. I will attempt to heal myself with the silk spool in this room. If you will not let me do it myself, you hold the scalpel.”

“You cannot heal yourself if you are unconscious!”

“That will never happen again.”

There is not an easy response.

Shakra looks at Hornet tenderly, “You scare me, there is so much I don’t know, you are a deeply wounded soul.”

“Please Shakra.”

Shakra pauses, “I said I would, if you asked. But really I… is this what you wish?” 

“I only wait for you.”

“…”

It’s evident her own dedication is not comparable to Hornet’s.   

“… is there a finer point? I am unfamiliar with your weapon,” asks Shakra.  

“Yes, one moment.” Hornet scavenges around her shelves before returning with a very short blade. “This will work well, the organ is not too deep.” 

The pair sits, legs crossed, “Is there a particular one you want extracted?”

“Take the bottom right on your side, tell me when you are about to start.” 

The spinnerets sat upon Hornet’s back in 3 rows, stacked upon each other, an otherwise soft protrusion among her battered and rigid shell. 

Shakra places one hand on Hornet’s back, “I am ready.”

“Carve around the outer spigot, do not dig deep, we are after the external structure mostly. I will bind after this, do not worry about damaging other spinnerets, apart from severing. I prefer accuracy to speed however, as I am expected to recover from this immediately. If I suffer for extra time then I have deserved it, I will implant it in Lace shortly afterward. Work diligently please.”

Shakra sticks the dagger into Hornet’s back, Hornet giving a small jitter. She works to trace around the edges until it is loose enough to be scooped swiftly. Lines of blood have started to leak from the wound and now coat the edges of the blade. 

“Are you okay, Hornet?”

Hornet offers a head nod.

With the initial path outlined, Shakra took to circle it again with a cut deep enough to pry off her spinneret. The push of the knife into her flesh drove Hornet to brace her mask with a hand, elbow digging into her thigh. 

“Don’t move much.. I will extract it after this pass.” 

Shakra distracts herself, but this pervasive feeling she has, seeing Hornet vulnerable and now touching her back, wants to be fulfilled. Something and Hornet makes her heart beat, it is shameful. Hornet would surely offer herself to help Shakra understand it, as Shakra had done, but not now, in this moment, it is not about Shakra. There is still duty to be performed, and for Hornet to rest; romantic? Platonic? desires be damned. 

The blade finishes another cycle, it should be proficiently deep. “The next cut will remove the spinneret,” Shakra looks toward Hornet’s face. Stone. 

“Are you alright still?” she probes.

“Cut it out and hand it to me.” 

Shakra can’t do much but listen. She turns again toward Hornet’s back—the bloody streaks flowing downward are obvious now—and grips her knife, before digging it in again and pulling up. The spinneret comes out smoothly. The whole mass is about the size of her hand. 

Shakra moves beside Hornet and presents it to her, “I hope it is undamaged.” 

Hornet grabs it from Shakra, “… it will work. Give me a moment,” she reaches for the silk spool and begins to bind. The blood on her hand and on her organ clears, Shakra checks her back and finds a new scar. Hornet stands as soon as she’s finished, looking toward Shakra. 

“You can watch if you’d like, Lace has an interesting form.” Hornet pauses. “But if she will wake, uh. I want to be alone with her for the moment. You need to trust me. Please,” her eyes are strained.

Shakra gets up with a short chuckle, “Then work quickly, so I am permitted to leave faster.”

Hornet eases. “I will introduce you two immediately after. She deserves to know who saved her.” Hornet walks toward Lace, “And I will save her too.” 

With a nod from Shakra, Hornet begins opening Lace’s chest once more. A vast network of loose threads, kept inward by her solid shell, with a lone heart buried in the middle. With that peeled open, Hornet places her spinneret inside and reseals it. She closes off the chest too, she tells Shakra, since she does not want Lace to be distressed when she wakes. 

Hand on Lace’s chest, Hornet’s silk flows through her and to Lace’s heart, the new spinneret inside, and commands it to weave. Hornet does not falter, she is truly stable, for this time her conviction knows Lace may die, but understands. Lace will be honored through her own continued life. That life gives, and that life will muster all to have Lace alive one more time.

Hornet can feel her silk moving in Lace, the intake into her heart, and then its thump. And beat. A new thrum throughout Lace’s body. Her own heart rises too, but, she has to... Hornet removes her tether to Lace’s heart and waits. The low beat can be felt through her hand. Ahh, and it’s there again. Again… again… Lace… 

Hornet’s breathing is heavy, but she still needs for Lace to wake up. She looks toward Lace’s hair.

And it’s grey.

Lace is still.

It’s grey.

Grey. 

Grey hair.  

Lace’s hair is grey. 

It’s grey.

And then. 

A strand of white. Shed pieces of the old hair fall, replaced in spades by fresh lines of pure white silk. It is reminiscent of her home, a garden grown full with white flowers. She is coming home. Hornet can’t keep it in anymore. 

Shakra steps out. 

She shouldn’t be crying when Lace wakes, okay, wipe her eyes, sit on her bed, wait for Lace to sit up. 

Hornet is too distracted to notice the minutes passing. Lace’s head gives a slight twist, making Hornet stand up. Lace’s face compresses a little before her eyes open, and then she’s awake. Very awake. 

“Hornet! Where is Horne…” she yells, bolting head up, until Hornet makes herself visible. Lace brings her head back down. 

“It has been a week since the Abyss. I am relieved you’re okay.” 

“Only I’m allowed to say that.” 

“That is true, I can’t. I inflicted it all, every…” Hornet kneels beside Lace, “every… everything! You would almost die from me, to what? Save me? Like I’ve done everything to deserve it! You can rest or leave my home or whatever you like but please, Lace please, forgive me. I shouldn’t put it all on you, but please, I need to hear you.”

Lace looks at Hornet to see her horns against the frame. A cot in a cramped bell for her to lay on. Her hair falls off the side, underneath it a mound of deeply grey lines of likely her old hair. The hair she has is beautiful. A whole tongue exists in her mouth again. When she woke, a sensation she had sorely missed, life, feeling, in her chest. It beats unendingly. She feels it. 

Lace gets out of the bed and sits down next to Hornet. Her hand finds its way to Hornet’s shoulder. 

“If you need it, I forgive you. But I don’t need apologies for it. Did my life exist prior to that day? Hm, I couldn’t tell you. Perhaps in principle. You are the reason I am here right now, but you are also the reason I am here right now. There is something majestic about self-sacrifice. I think you understand that. That decision was mine, never yours. Some faulty outcome happens, then I have ended it on my terms. Death or life. Both worked for me.”

Lace moves closer, “But for you? Only life worked for me. And to see you here now? Hornet. Would I have done something like that? I guess I did. I blame you for that. Ever since that first moment… you’re a snare you know. And I walk out of the Abyss, intact, with a life of my own, and you’re there, like nothing happened…” Hornet turns to look at Lace.

Lace continues, “… how could I leave you? It would never be fair to you. If we fight in the diving bell? So what! Only once you were out did I realize it all! Saving people is all you do! And you hurt anyway! Is it my right to kill you? Someone you saved? Recognize this please Hornet. Your heart will always bring people to support you, because it has something special we all don’t. I forgive you, but I don’t want to.”

Before Lace can do anymore, Hornet wraps her up in a tight embrace. The pressure around her body is soothing. Lace reciprocates. Hornet’s voice is rocky, “I can’t ever thank you enough for saving me. I just wanted you to be okay. And you’re more okay than me. Thank you for caring for me. Thank you.”

“I thank you for letting me be here, never forget.”

And suddenly, neither want to let go.  

Lace realizes what’s happening. “You don’t want to release me spider? You love me, no?” 

“You remind me of my sibling is all. The time since I have hugged another like this is immense.”

“You will have to let go of me eventually though, otherwise you’ll not be able to see them.” 

Hornet reflects, “Ah, but they are void now. A troubled history. It’s similar to yours in many ways.”

“So, you do love me?” Lace pries. 

“Shakra told me you said you loved me when you were in Greymoor.”

She told Hornet?! “I thought you were dead! I don’t actually love you like that…”

Lace is glad Hornet can’t see the embarrassment on her face, “Or, haha, uhm. I might? My heart beats so hard right now. You put that in too right? And you care for me. I should love you, right?”

“I don’t want to pressure you like that, or in this moment. This is my own indulgence, because I love you.” The blush Hornet has seeps through her mask. “We can be friends, or more, I don’t mind, but I don’t think I can leave you behind. I’m so selfish, I wanted to save you from the void. Sure, it was for Pharloom, but I think part of me hoped it would end up this way.”

Lace is rattled by Hornet’s bold admission, and her face feels warmer than ever. She moves her head down onto Hornet’s shoulder. It’s bliss. Her legs want to clench and soak in the moment. She squeezed Hornet more. This affection was her own to command and control.

“Okay but, one more hug, because Shakra has been waiting outside for me.”

“You’re going to hug her next?” Lace is appalled.

“Only you.”

They gave each other one last minute before letting go and standing up.

“Where did you lot put my headdress? My hair’s perfection is going to be ruined.”

“I… cannot say. It was never on since I woke myself.”

Lace throws her hand about, “Guaranteed! She just thought it was a bandage. It had to have been soaked in your blood. Wimples don’t grow on trees, she better have kept it somewhere.”

Hornet gets a small chuckle, “If not, I’ll just have to make you a better one.” She just wants to make Lace flutter it seems. 

Hornet gestures toward the door, but Lace steals her hand. The pair grin, Hornet drags her forward and to the door. A door of a new life, and a new friend.