The Spider Willow | Home Thread

[Abattoir]

[OOC:: Itsy's home! Anyone can drop by to visit; I'll keep it updated, & intend to keep it going. It may devolve into a oneshot(ill update the prefix if so) if no one responds. A joiner!]

 

'Golden threads touching from root to leaf, rigid in the breeze..'

  Itsy continues to write, poetic freeform being painted down into the journal with an inky mixture of local plants, silt, willow sap for scent, & the fine shimmer of her wettest silk. She is merely idling in her thoughts. Patiently waiting for inspiration to strike her; she wants to weave something, some item of clothing for the cracked plastic bust so carefully tucked away in the canopy of her willow tree.

  She hangs, upside down, slender legs delicately gripping onto the gnarled branches, a weathered clay pot swaying gently beside her as it hangs on a single thread, filled with her homemade ink. She dips the end of he tarsus into into occasional, using the haired appendage to write. The substance is very particularly made & so does not much bother her easily overwhelmed sense of touch. Golden spider silk stretches here & there with her personal items stuck to them. Cloth, carved wooden dolls, a rusted needle, pots, herbs, human clothing, flowers, & one wolf-sized lump squirming as it hangs from the sturdiest of branches. &, of course, a plethora of male spiders attracted by her pheromones.

  Strands of her web stretch from the tree to across the flooded area surrounding her tree, reaching out into the forest. Her web spans a roughly half a square mile. Carefully eaten, respun, & maintained each day. The spider gently touches a leg to seemingly random threads leading off to the rest of her web, hypersensitive sense of touch on alert for any vibrations.

  Itsy waits for someone nearby to pass & disturb her web. She is in want of a bit of company.

[Abattoir]

  The day passes by with no company. Itsy cannot say she is disappointed, as she had made no particular effort to invite anyone to her, but she is a tad disheartened. At least the day, albeit cold, had passed by swiftly what with her constant output of daydreams into the journal.
  She touches a leg between her spinnerets, pulling a fresh strand from her abdomen, & touches it to the nearest branch, then to her journal. It is gently released & allowed to daintily swing here to there in the chilly breeze. She then meticulously sets about cleaning herself, feeding each leg in turn between her mandibles, swiping each & every hair clean of any particle of dust or bit of grime. Itsy is a clean woman. She prefers her living space, & herself, neat, orderly, tidy.

This done, she suddenly stirs to life, spindly limbs carrying her across her web-- upside down-- & over the lake to perhaps check in with the townsfolk mingling in the library. Her home is left vacant save for the multitude of male spiders swarming over her web.

[toboggan]

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.'

[Abattoir]

  She had been carefully browsing through the pages of a molding book when the wolfhound approached her. Itsy does not initially turn to face him, seeing as her vision is nearly 360 degrees, but does after a moment of thought as to appear polite. Not before carefully setting the book back into its proper place.

  Itsy is a timid, gentle creature in everything but a social setting. Her pedipalps flex & twitch as her tarsus taps against the worn wooden flooring, many eyes glinting in the slanted late afternoon sunlight filtering through the windows. It takes her a brief second or so to realize just who she is speaking to-- the spider's slight motions freeze. "I am named Itsy, Miss Itsy if you so please, how do you do? I, myself, am well-- General Leroy, was it? Rarely do I visit during such busy hours.." Her voice is flat, cool, painting the impression of a levelheaded & logical individual. She laughs lightly, a soft & whispery sound. "By the time I've woken, cleaned up, & started off traveling to town it is too late to make it 'fore nightfall." Itsy continues. Perhaps she likes the sound of her own voice. Or, perhaps, she is simply enjoying fully the opportunity to socialize. "I've lived in the 'wood all my life, General Leroy. Near the border.. quite the journey."

"Oh, but I ramble. What brings you to the library, sir?"

  The spider continues her minute movements-- until a stray speck of dust lands upon her leg's sensitive hairs. She lifts said leg, & begins to groom it, feeling rather fussy in the moment. She must look & feel her best for the General!

[ABATHUR .]

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"

[wormwood.]

[table][tr][td]

AURUM

DO NO HARM BUT TAKE NO SHIT !

[/td][td]

[/td][/tr][/table]

Itsy seemed to be yet another in the long running roster of faces that Aurum found himself needing to get acquainted with, unfortunately. He had heard of her before, but had yet to have an interaction with her face to face, which made it difficult for the proxy to add her into his catalogue of clanmates he took special care to watch over and protect. It seemed as though he was going to get his chance today, however. As he was walking through the tall trees of Tanglewood, getting ready to head out to remark the border, he was startled from his focus by the sound of two- no, three voices. Two familiar, and one not so familiar. Curiosity piqued, the proxy made his way over without much fuss, taking special care not to disturb anything as he entered the library. When he found his way beside Abathur, he carefully allowed the fluff of his tail to graze the large arachnid's side, just to give him a warning that there was someone beside him. He knew that Abathur, even in his newly blinded state, had ways of keeping track of things around him, but the proxy never saw harm in helping out slightly, so that Abathur wouldn't be forced to guess at things. When he heard the male's slightly shocked words, he let out a soft amused chuff before speaking, "I know that wasn't directed to me, but yes Abathur. Miss Itsy seems to be a spider. Around dog sized, just by estimate." He could practically feel the excitement radiating off of Abathur in waves, something Aurum wasn't sure he had ever seen from the other before.

After that little confirmation, Aurum allowed his one eye to focus on Itsy, taking in the rather proper spider's delicate movements and polite manners. She was certainly different from most others they got here in Tanglewood, but that actually made him smile a but. He cleared his throat before speaking, the front half of his body dipping down in a sort of proper bow – just like he was used to back when he had been a true prince, "Hello, Miss Itsy. I don't believe we've met properly before. My name is Aurum, and I'm the proxy around here. I help out Leroy here." He attached the little clarification on with a light flick of his tail towards the hound, just in case. It wouldn't have been the first time someone didn't know what the proxy was within the group, so he liked to make it clear. Although, Itsy did seem the type that would know about the rankings and everything, considering she had apparently been living on the edge of their territory for a while now, and knew enough to at least refer to Leroy as the general.

━ I'M GONNA WIN.┆PROUD. WARM. PROTECTIVE. ━

[Abattoir]

  Perhaps the three most important people she would ever meet are gathered in the library with her. It is a tad daunting, she must admit to herself. She, likewise, had heard of the wounded proxy, but never met him-- a winged lion, fancy that? She may just start drooling at the thought.. lions are her favorite meal, see? The wings would only look more beautiful as the elegant creature struggled against her web, flapping & straining as they would. It is only more so tempting with him weak & injured. But, but, but.. she has an NPC Pittian in her web at home. She must remain respectful. Particularly when he is so polite. However, the lion is not the forefront of her focus. The spider is.

  He is gorgeous.

  He is elegant.

  From his milky eyes, to the fuzz lining his body, to the very way he holds himself on his many legs. Never before has she seen a spider so large, so-- capable of speech. She is by no means a romantic, or at least she tells herself, never before had she so much as a crush. Yet.. this, this feeling blooming within her carapace, this feeling-- it is crushing. It is smothering. It takes her breath away. Takes her words. All she may do is slowly return her leg to the floor, taking a wary step closer, one limb in turn reaching up from the floor to gently wave in the air in front of him. Gently, her tarsus brushes against his. This is followed by taking several swift steps backwards. Itsy draws a deep breath, steadying herself.

"Such a pleasure to meet each of you.." She murmurs. "You must excuse my lightheadedness, never have I ever thought I would.." She turns first to the General, then the Proxy. "It is a brilliant delight to meet the both of you in person. Aurum. Leroy." A breath in. "Abathur.." It is all she can do to keep from shivering. Not from the cold, no, but from pure excitement. Miss Itsy is a whirlwind of emotions perhaps invisible to one that relies on physical expressions.

[ABATHUR .]

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"