Valentine's Brunch~ | Joiner

[Abattoir]

 

  On the various mossy trees surrounding the town of Tanglewood's heart hang pinned flyers, each meticulously stuck to the bark with sticky, golden spider silk. "Valentine's celebration Brunch~ Hosted by Miss Itsy~ Library~ Time: now,' each parchment reads in flowery, neat script, the ink shimmering & smelling of sweet sap. A crude drawing or pun beneath each, as well as many hearts, line of text gives each flyer its own personal charm.

  Within the library itself rests the spider. She hangs from the ceiling on a single glinting strand of gold, motionless, the small section of the building she had sectioned off for the event just below her. Weathered wooden tables had been gathered, with a smattering of placed chairs for any smaller creatures that may join. On these tables lie more cheesy pun cards, heartfelt compliments to the community, &-- of course --the brunch itself. Tea. Milk. Omelets. Bacon. Shortbread. Fruits, nuts, berries, edible roots, & hunks of meat glazed in something mildly sweet. Miss Itsy had even managed a stack of berry pancakes or two through careful trading with the tavern-- it had not been easy, obtaining any of this, as she herself cannot cook.. but brunches are serious matters to the spider. So serious, in fact, she had spent the past two weeks preparing for this event, & a week before that simply conserving her energy for the feat. Dust had been cleared. Books carefully tucked away elsewhere. The managers of the library-- dare she call them librarians? --informed.

  All was set. Now, she only needed someone to show.

  Why, you may ask, is she doing this? What business has a giant spider being so social? Well.. Miss Itsy has grown a tad lonely. She misses the sweet intricacies of conversation. Hearing other's laughter. Their thoughts. Muse for her art, they are. She studies their shapes & forms as they pass by. Imagining them in this or that item of clothing-- all about the fresh ideas, she is, see? &.. she has not shown her face in some time. She hopes no one was forgotten about her, that would be dreadfully awkward.