A Good Little Spider

[[ July 24th ]]

You ask a war shrine of Viravain, "Dear Lady...! I've been diligently taking care of our Guest, like You asked! Are You pleased, by the progress they've made? Are they going to be a butterfly for You? Or a Spider?"

The cocoon rocks violently and twists, as if a hand were stretching across the membrane of the sticky webbing. A faint shrieking emanates from its core before all is still again.

You beam broadly.

With a quick beat of your wings, you rise up to circle slowly around a vaguely humanoid-shaped cocoon and study it curiously.

You think to yourself: Would love to be Your butterfly... so pretty, so unassuming, so welcome, bringing roses where I go....

You smile broadly and say to a vaguely humanoid-shaped cocoon, "Don't worry... Dearest Mother of the Murder will make something so lovely of you."

You caress a vaguely humanoid-shaped cocoon gently.

The cocoon stills against your touch, as if whatever's inside is soothed by your gentleness.

Still gently running her fingertips across the webs of a vaguely humanoid-shaped cocoon, Aleyah smiles and murmurs encouraging, "That's it, easy now, there's nothing to fear. You're going to grow, you're going to be something new, and wonderful, and worthy of home. Nothing could possibly be more exciting...!"

Cooing her words, gentle and lyrical all at once, you say to a vaguely humanoid-shaped cocoon, "Nothing matters but home, and you're coming home. It's going to hurt. It'll be so different, but we'll love you."

You have emoted: Aleyah smiles, quiet and blissful.

You have emoted: Her smile not changing in thes lightest, except perhaps to grow... sharp. Threatening, even, Aleyah murmurs in the same gentle, soothing tone, "After all, as long as it's done for love, anyhing's okay. Isn't it? Is that not what Theirs say?" Her giggle is light, airy, musical, and cruel.

You smile and say, "I've seen the staff, you know. The one my darling cousin clutches so dearly. Covered in praises to Them. Talking about love.... as if they hold sole providence on love. I brokered those treates, with fire - I know their thoughts on love there, so soft, so one-note. They don't understand that love in other forms, forms that rip and tear, forms that prioritize something other than the self. This is love, little guest. How lucky you are to receive it."

You hum a quiet, merry tune.

You caress a vaguely human-shaped tenderly.

You say to a vaguely humanoid-shaped cocoon, "Grow strong and worthy, little guest. Turn my cousin's eyes from fire, bring him back home.

You smile and say, "I know it's a lot to ask."

You smile and say, "But the Glomdoring asks everything of you, and you must be happy to give. I am! I'm a good little spider."