Lace (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
threadsbare) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
mistymansion2025-09-22 08:38 pm
threadsbare) wrote in mistymansion2025-09-22 08:38 pm
weaver queen au
Terrible things are behind this cut CWs will be added as needed.
CW: baseline toxic codependent relationship, dehumanization, suicidal ideation
[Why was she still alive?
Lace felt cheated. It had been the one thing to console her after she had lost yet again to the spider. Finally, finally there would be an end to all this. Her Mother would get everything she ever wanted, and the temporary replacements that were her and Phantom would be gone and dealt with. She had fallen unconscious with envy, resentment, anguish but most of all relief in her heart.
So why was it that she was still alive? Could she not at last be given reprieve?
The sounds of battle had drawn her upward to her Mother's waking place and she had watched from a distance as the battle went on. Hah. The spider still thought she could do it. At this point Lace supposes she shouldn't be surprised. Where did this confidence come from? Was it because she too carried pale blood? Yet she was only half of one and so much younger than her Mother. It would have been so much easier if she just caved in. One way or another, her Mother always got her way.
And yet...
And yet...
The spider was winning. Lace could not believe her eyes. She was actually winning.
The silk construct clutched her pin and for a moment she almost went in there to join the fray and protect her mother on instinct but then she stopped in her tracks, and fell back to the shadows. No. This was what Grand Mother Silk deserved. This was what she deserved after everything she had done to her, done to Phantom.
Lace stayed her blade and there came the final blow.
Her Mother's scream as she collapsed rattled her but still she stayed, but as she watched it was now horror that kept her in place as she watched Silk be devoured, her beautiful form being absorbed by the spider until her body came apart completely, and all that was left was the metal of her legs, and the bracers she once wore.
For all the hatred and resentment she had harbored for her mother, hearing those agonized screams as she withered away to nothing sickened her to her core. The spider was a beast of that there was no doubt, and as Lace looked up at the cocoon that looked so much like the one that had been her mother's bed, she wondered what sort of Queen the Weaver would be.
One Lace wanted nothing to with.
What was left to her now? Only one person, and Lace feared that they too were already gone. A journey to the Exhaust Organ confirmed this fear, and Lace almost threw herself to the muckmaggots then and there. Yet even now such a death was abhorrent to her and she eventually made her way back up to the Cradle. As she did she passed many pilgrims and she had to wonder: did they have any idea of what was coming? Would their lives become better or worse from here on out? Considering what she had seen of the spider during her ascent...it seemed she would be benevolent. Perhaps it was unfair to take into consideration what she had witnessed, given that it was a battle of dominance between two deities.
Hornet had always been kind--if anything, in Lace's opinion, overly so towards the people she encountered.
She had been kind to her, which was the most ridiculous thing.
Yet she still could not help but have doubts. She supposes she always would with those of the higher caste.
She didn't know why she suddenly cared about the fate of Pharloom's citizenry, she never had before but it didn't take longer for her to come to the conclusion.
It was because this was all her fault.
If she had just accepted her fate and not freed the spider from her enchanted cage both her Mother and Phantom would still be alive. That had been an agonizing realization to come upon and so many what ifs began to fill her mind. What ifs that were now an impossibility because of what she had done.
Once more she reached that platform where the spider's cocoon hovered and she sat down, pin across her lap. Lace had no illusions about how this would go. She had never bested Hornet when she was a half breed, there was no way she would be able to do so when she was reborn.
That was fine. She will have her death and it will come as any knight's should---in battle.]
CW: baseline toxic codependent relationship, dehumanization, suicidal ideation
[Why was she still alive?
Lace felt cheated. It had been the one thing to console her after she had lost yet again to the spider. Finally, finally there would be an end to all this. Her Mother would get everything she ever wanted, and the temporary replacements that were her and Phantom would be gone and dealt with. She had fallen unconscious with envy, resentment, anguish but most of all relief in her heart.
So why was it that she was still alive? Could she not at last be given reprieve?
The sounds of battle had drawn her upward to her Mother's waking place and she had watched from a distance as the battle went on. Hah. The spider still thought she could do it. At this point Lace supposes she shouldn't be surprised. Where did this confidence come from? Was it because she too carried pale blood? Yet she was only half of one and so much younger than her Mother. It would have been so much easier if she just caved in. One way or another, her Mother always got her way.
And yet...
And yet...
The spider was winning. Lace could not believe her eyes. She was actually winning.
The silk construct clutched her pin and for a moment she almost went in there to join the fray and protect her mother on instinct but then she stopped in her tracks, and fell back to the shadows. No. This was what Grand Mother Silk deserved. This was what she deserved after everything she had done to her, done to Phantom.
Lace stayed her blade and there came the final blow.
Her Mother's scream as she collapsed rattled her but still she stayed, but as she watched it was now horror that kept her in place as she watched Silk be devoured, her beautiful form being absorbed by the spider until her body came apart completely, and all that was left was the metal of her legs, and the bracers she once wore.
For all the hatred and resentment she had harbored for her mother, hearing those agonized screams as she withered away to nothing sickened her to her core. The spider was a beast of that there was no doubt, and as Lace looked up at the cocoon that looked so much like the one that had been her mother's bed, she wondered what sort of Queen the Weaver would be.
One Lace wanted nothing to with.
What was left to her now? Only one person, and Lace feared that they too were already gone. A journey to the Exhaust Organ confirmed this fear, and Lace almost threw herself to the muckmaggots then and there. Yet even now such a death was abhorrent to her and she eventually made her way back up to the Cradle. As she did she passed many pilgrims and she had to wonder: did they have any idea of what was coming? Would their lives become better or worse from here on out? Considering what she had seen of the spider during her ascent...it seemed she would be benevolent. Perhaps it was unfair to take into consideration what she had witnessed, given that it was a battle of dominance between two deities.
Hornet had always been kind--if anything, in Lace's opinion, overly so towards the people she encountered.
She had been kind to her, which was the most ridiculous thing.
Yet she still could not help but have doubts. She supposes she always would with those of the higher caste.
She didn't know why she suddenly cared about the fate of Pharloom's citizenry, she never had before but it didn't take longer for her to come to the conclusion.
It was because this was all her fault.
If she had just accepted her fate and not freed the spider from her enchanted cage both her Mother and Phantom would still be alive. That had been an agonizing realization to come upon and so many what ifs began to fill her mind. What ifs that were now an impossibility because of what she had done.
Once more she reached that platform where the spider's cocoon hovered and she sat down, pin across her lap. Lace had no illusions about how this would go. She had never bested Hornet when she was a half breed, there was no way she would be able to do so when she was reborn.
That was fine. She will have her death and it will come as any knight's should---in battle.]
no subject
The Weaverlings scurried and scuttled right after Lace with great agility, their legs tapping against ground, against walls, through sand, silently across silk, descending from corners one would not know existed.
They would not answer to Lace.
They answered to Hornet alone. One of their own. A proper Queen.
Finally as they got close enough to Lace to sniff they did so with enthusiasm, taking the scent and the sight of her in and imprinting it in their little clever minds, and they erupted in a loud chorus of hissing and chirping.
They were speaking to something. To someone.
And from a distance away, though a long distance, Hornet heard the little ones quivering and calling for her, and she stalked towards their direction on her web of silk, her limbs carrying her with lightning fast speed.
Then one of the little Weaverlings nipped at Lace's leg and tugged out a strand of silk with its fangs and ran away with it, far far away, off towards its queen, off to show Her what it had, for Lace's body was not her own and had never been her own, always made by someone else, someone else's silk and someone else's labor.
It may be more evident now that Lace is being tracked. ]
no subject
She was still fine with kicking them whenever she got the chance, however, and there was something quite satisfying whenever she sent one sailing.]
Ow!
[She hissed when she felt one nip her and then she saw it run off with her silk.]
Oh no you don't!
[She tried to go after it but immediately more began to encroach on her, blocking off the path, and then it was long gone.
Damnit. It didn't take a genius to guess what that meant. This was already falling apart so quickly and this was exactly why she had wanted to plan longer but her window of opportunity was minuscule. With her body fading faster than it ever had, it wouldn't be long before Hornet "fixed" her. With a frustrated whine she decided to continue with her plan and make her way to Hunter's March. Hopefully she would be able to lose them amongst some of the more precarious terrain there. And if not...well. She had hoped to use this spool to sustain herself, but she supposed it would be time to test out how well she could make those blockades. If they couldn't even stop a bunch of weaverlings she may as well just toss herself into the lava of Deep Docks.
If she stayed long enough it would eventually do that job.]
no subject
Yes, this had the scent on it indeed. That fresh and clean scent of silk. Some of the old monarch's, which carried with it the fog of age, and some her own, the Queen Weaver, newer, sweeter. The one that played the organ had been dull and lacking and dusty, not unlike an old shelf or bookcase.
With this she could find a trail and pursue it.
She pat the beast on its head and continued climbing through the webs and nets of silk that had been strung up with her single Weaverling in tow. She'd found Lace's scent and pursued her mark, but the scent of silk did not typically last long, not off one thread and not out in this environment where it was easily diluted. She had a decent sense of where Lace was going, but it was diffused and losing specificity.
The Weaver Queen growled to herself in frustration.
Her low growl seemed to hum and vibrate off the silk spun all around her, and it was then that she was struck with an idea.
Were song and frequency not the dearest craft of the Weavers?
She spoke, proud and grand. ]
I am impressed by your tenacity. I knew you would escape, but not the hour.
[ Her voice was carried away, far away, down and across all the strands of silk that encased Pharloom, a frequency being carried over thousands, millions of wires. Surely they would reach Lace.
Would she respond? Would Hornet be able to hear her response?
Likely not.
But Lace would hear. ]
no subject
Hornet's voice seemed to come from everywhere all at once. It passed along all the silk around her, seemed to pass through her. Where was it coming from? Where was she? Fear lodged itself deep in Lace's chest.
It was a good thing she managed to keep herself upright. She could see one of those well hidden pressure plates the Skarr were so fond of using to set off their traps. Ordinarily she didn't need to bother avoiding them--she was too light to set them off but with this heavy spool of silk she was hauling it would have done the job. One trap would hardly kill her, but it certainly would have been enough for the horde of weaverlings chasing to catch up and swarm her.
Lace could still hear them behind her---skittering, jumping, and incessant drone of hissing and chittering that made her silk crawl.
No wonder weavers were called beasts.]
Shut your mouth. [She snapped. Despite her fear, her voice was clear and strong. If she could get Hornet to speak again, maybe she would get a better idea of where the Queen was.]
Do you not have more important matters to tend to than chasing me down?
[Ugh. She couldn't keep this up. If Hornet really was nearby then she could strike at any moment and it would all be over.
It was time to figure out if there was even the slightest bit of hope in this working.
Despite her exhaustion Lace forced her legs to pump faster, increasing some of the distance between her and the weaverlings. She knew where she was going and there it appeared---a small entrance to a cavern. The one with the statue of the once proud Skarr leader.
She darted through the archway then skid to a stop, turning around and slamming the spool down on the ground.
Please work, please work, please work. She begged and placed her hand on either side of the opening and thought back to those runes.
Lace had seen many weavers brought to Pharloom in cages, their power ensnared by those magical runes specifically built to counter the power of their unique kind. At first it had been curiosity that had her sought to learn about them---after all, what else was there to do?
It was only when she learned her mother was bringing in one who was half pale that she began to study them in earnest. That is how she was able to free Hornet, instilling the spell on a silk fly and conducting it her way.
It had been a gamble. Lace hadn't exactly been able to test it out on any of the other cages without risking tipping her mother off.
This too, would be a gamble.
Bright lights flashed around her and seemed to coalesce in the space between both walls.
The runes shone for a moment, then cemented themselves in the air around the opening.
Lace stumbled back away from it and this time she did fall. The world around her spun. She knew that would take a lot of silk and energy, but it was even more than she anticipated. The spool was completely empty, and even with that some of her own body had been siphoned.
So much so that her clothes hung on her, a little too large, and the sockets where her metal legs were attached felt painfully stretched.
Fuck....fuck.
Lace reached for her pin at her hip and stared at the entrance where she could see the weaverling encroaching.
If this didn't work it was probably over, but damned she be if she still didn't go down batting as many of them away as if they were golf balls.]
no subject
They crawled back in pairs to observe the sealed door, which now had currents of glowing pale magic running through it. The barrier was not entirely invisible to the naked eye, but rather had a strange filmy sheen to it. Still, it proved transparent enough that it was not unlikely a fair amount of Skarr travelers were going to have sore heads by the end of the night.
The Weaverlings chattered and chirped amongst themselves and to each other. They had not the intelligence of their greater kin, but enough awareness to recognize they were blocked, and seemingly by a familiar magic, one devised by their very own. They pushed and crawled against the door with their tiny spindly legs but every contact resulted in a searing burn.
They gave up.
They turned to face Lace with a final noisy hiss and scuttled away back in the direction of their monarch. And when they had returned, She was not pleased. ]
...
[ Hornet took them in her palms and observed. Hm. They would not -- could not -- disobey her, even if they desired so. She observed them for injuries. Their shells appeared fine, though the bases of their feet seemed tender and sore, perhaps from the heat. Had Lace hid herself? Surely their sense of smell would have sniffed her out. A barricade? Had she died, even?
Bah.
It was no matter what Lace had done.
She had made the mistake of responding and though Hornet could not hear her exact words, she felt, much to her great pleasure, the vibrations of her vocal chords upon silk and in that wobbling, humming shudder, she felt an image forming in her mind like an echolocating bat.
She followed the Weaverlings as they took off once more, all of them now, and continued to stalk her prey in the direction of Hunter's March, leaping and crawling from wall to wall. She caught Lace's scent again. Closer now. This world was her web. She had to keep Lace talking and the angrier the better.
The Weaver Queen sent another call down the radio antennae of silk. ]
Delicate one, the world beyond your birthplace is a tumultuous and violent land, not meant for one as frail and fragile as you. Return, and I promise you safety.
no subject
They ran into the seal, and she breathed out a sigh of relief, shoulders sagging. She stepped backwards, keeping a watch on them to make sure it held before leaning against the statue.
A moment. She just needed a moment to rest. The past five days had not been good to her. Her sleep had been poor--how could she sleep with Hornet's eyes fixed on her? Then her mad dash hadn't allowed for a single moment of respite.
When the tiny critters finally gave up she returned their hissing with a very unlady-like gesture. Her eyes closed.
A moment. Just a moment.
Slowly she slid down the statue until she was seated on the ground.
Exhaustion ate away at her and she might have almost passed out there but then came that voice, that once again seemed to come from everywhere at once. She immediately jumped up and looked around.
Where was she? Where the fuck was she?
Slowly she turned around, surveying the entire cavern, then looked up. There was a pathway upward, but she couldn't be there. No...she wasn't nearby. It wouldn't make sense. Lace straightened up, trying to figure this out. Her Mother had always been able to track her. That was because of the silk her body was composed of. The few instances they spoke, Her voice had resounded within her mind. This was different.]
I
[She immediately shut her mouth. Hornet hadn't responded to what she had said previously. She somehow doubts she would let telling her to shut up slide. Which leads Lace to believe she can't hear her which makes talking pointless. She can't stay here for too long. The weaverlings would doubtless return with her.
She cast her eyes upward, trying to judge the height. High. Very high. She might be able to make it, but her legs were now unstable with how ill-fitting they had become since her body shrunk.
Hornet's words echoed in her mind, incensing her. Words like that had been ones her Mother had spoken, back before she'd appointed herself a knight, when she had tried to dissuade her from picking up the pin. Frail, frail, frail. That's all anyone thought when they looked at her, didn't they? No matter how hard she worked. No matter what she accomplished.
She hated that it was true.
Most of all, because someone had deliberately made her that way.]