Why anybody would establish a homestead outside of the town was beyond the general. Enjoying one's privacy is one thing, but completely isolating yourself from the only civilization that existed within the surrounding fifty kilometres was simply an act of idiocy. The town acted as a beacon of activity and livelihood; beyond its domain, the choices one had for entertainment were slim, if not barren. The town possessed a library, where the initiated could go to flip some pages to pass the time, as well as a tavern, which beckoned the thirsty and famished to come on in and grab a seat.

Leroy lived in the town - within the modest confines of the Roux family home, to be concise. Despite the building housing a leader, the individual of the highest status available, in no light was it grandiose. He enjoyed it, though, for its smaller size coerced its inhabitants to inevitably be closer. Which was another reason why he couldn't fathom the idea of living outside of the town; being away from people would drive him utterly bananas.

There is a stranger in the library. He does not recognize her, yet she evidently knew her way around, meaning that she couldn't possibly be entirely new to these parts. Regardless, he does not recognize the arachnid, and to be totally candid, he almost doesn't want to. Spiders freaked him out. The first time his line of vision fell upon Abathur, the wolfhound nearly had a heart attack. Eight legs were far too many. Why couldn't four of them be chopped off with an axe? At the same time, he forces himself to approach the female, for it was the responsible thing to do as a leader. Getting to know your underlings was a move that only benefited.

"How's it goin'?" the canine inquires, haphazardly approaching the creepy crawly. "I don't recall seein' you 'round here. What's your name?" 'She, however,' he thinks, 'has probably seen me. I mean, look at how many eyes she's got.'

It was a cold day to be following someone, he mused to himself. The air bit at him, making him want to shiver like a mammal - it was just cold enough to be uncomfortable for him, and even if he knew he could survive worse (much, much worse), he was still not having a great time. It was quite unfortunate that he was stuck outside when the weather turned ill, really - not that he had many places to go. His house was quite empty, save for the silk that lined the floor, the walls, the ceiling, a literal web, interconnected, a security system and a navigational contraption wrapped into one - not to mention it was quite pleasant to the touch, something incredibly important for a tactile being such as he.

He wondered if Leroy would mind his walking behind him. He wasn't too close, after all, and it wasn't like he had decided to do it, he just sort of thought to himself that, hey, the leader of the group has likely got something important to do, and he was curious as to what it could be. (Admittedly, he sort of forgot Leroy's initial reaction to his existence, somehow. Blindness weighed on a spider's conscious heavily, after all - heavily enough to blank out the thought of an ear-piercing shriek ringing through the midnight air.)

There was something odd about the person in the library.

He can feel the distribution of their weight through the old wooden boards of the house of knowledge, the seven limbs spread across the floor, much more surface than a normal spider could potentially cover. He could feel Leroy's steps, not quite shaky, but hesitant, giving the being in the center of his focus a wide enough berth. It was disconcerting, to say the least.

"Subject Leroy," the spider grumbled out, quietly, as if he was on the cusp of a mind-shattering realization, as if he was about to see the face of a god (which was beyond his abilities), "is that another spider?" All his thoughts, for the few moments before he got his answer, were completely wiped away. It was a breath in, a calm before a storm, as if his mind was bracing itself, allocating all the possible computing power it could manage so that he could sufficiently bombard the potential arachnid subject with a thousand-thousand questions. Already he was known for being one to ask many questions of varying levels of importance. That habit could only be multiplied by the source of his curiosity potentially answering one his biggest questions: the questions of his existence as the world's only sapient spider.

At least, the only one that he knew.

tags - "speech"

If he were a lesser being, one with less control over his proverbial mouth, he would be reduced to grunting out a singular 'shit' in reaction to the things that have come to light today. Instead, he spoke, in a hushed tone, brain still processing everything: "Greetings, subject Aurum." A quiet greeting, while the others spoke in their odd, flowery ways. (He didn't know if he liked such noble speech - he much preferred getting to the chase, instead of all these pleasantries.)

The first thing that came to light, the one that reshaped the clay of his brain, twisting his mind into 'seeing' a new thing, was that he was not alone. Obviously, he was never truly alone - he always had his clanmates, after all. But he always felt alien wherever he went, standing out like a sore thumb, a black spot on a white background, the one person sitting instead of standing. He had been over this with himself frequently, wondering and arguing with himself if he was truly belonging. He had settled on not being cast out completely, but certainly not fitting in, as it were.

This was different now.

The second thing, which was much smaller in scope but still a surprise to him, was that he very much enjoyed being touched - the light brushing of a tail, presumably Aurum's from his positioning, sent electricity through his body, a pleasant little charge, something that energized him as much as it did comfort him, as much as it did ground him to something other than the floor, reminding him that he wasn't just floating in a void. The feeling was repeated when Itsy crawled and brushed against one of his tarsals - a different sensation, of course, not soft and slow, but smooth, and fast, and it ended almost soon as it began, leaving him feeling confused. What was the point of that in the first place? He could feel her heart beating just a little bit faster, but - well, that could easily be attributed to the blood flowing to her legs to push herself backwards instead of anything else.

The third thing, which he did not realize at all, funnily enough, was that he was oblivious.

He pushed on regardless of all the new things coming to light, deciding to focus on an anchor: his curiosity. "Yes, greetings," he spoke quickly, as if trying to get the formalities out of the way, voice taking an almost child-like tone (if not for the staggering depth of his vocal range). "How long has subject Itsy lived in Tanglewood? Do more large spiders exist? Where did subject pick up elegant speech patterns, mannerisms?" He had so many questions, but alas, he did not have enough time in the world to excitedly poke and prod at every blind spot (pun unintended) in his knowledge. He would have to settle for just a few. And maybe a few more after that.

tags - "speech"