Timestamp: 26th of Autumn 479 AV
Trickles of rainwater and dew strung against the web, converting the spider silk into a delicate frail piece of art. Alike diamonds suspended in the air, the miniscle rays of light sparkled against every drop, illuminating the final orb that hung in the centre. Small beady yellow eyes glinted from the solitude of the dark, marring the bond of creature and it's home in a quaint and suspenceful beauty.
Her own eyes caught the spider's, two red's locking with many oranges. Faint clicks from the spider's mandibles were barely audible...but the Symenestra listened. Heeding it's call. There were no words spoken, there was no need for such things here. Only sight, smell and thought was required and the time that held it all together. Regularly did Syndela wander just beyond her house, the young child of ten years of age held curiousity her sisters and family could not understand. Struggling to understand the complex world that surrounded her.
- Arachnia weaves and she weaves so well
She weaves a passage where the Gods will fly
Arachnia laughs as she casts her spell
While she watches from her loom on high -
She weaves a passage where the Gods will fly
Arachnia laughs as she casts her spell
While she watches from her loom on high -
Arachnia, was her name. Syndela had named her from many times spent watching the spider catch her prey in the translucent strings weaved from her very form. Quick legs and feet spindled the thread, connecting the strands together and when the web broke, she wove again. Silver net suspended in the air, above a small chasm near to where her fmaily resided. Though not deep, the Symenestra didn't require the ground nor floor. She found to be at home with Arachnia. Her palms and feet meeting the cool but rigid surface of the cavern walls, hanging beside her companion.
Her friend never judged her. Arachnia never said anything bad about how her curiousity will one day get her in trouble or how her sisters were more talented or precise in their routines. Syndela's hair reminded her of Arachnia. The white and black frond so alike her friend and her web. In fact, the colours confounded the small child. Just how much alike was she like Arachnia and how much the spider was alike her.
The other children couldn't understand, Syndela thought. They played with eachother and talked and played some more. Syndela only wanted to be listened to. To be seen and realised that yes, she existed and that mistakes were not the sole focus of her life. Tiny pale fangs of white poked out from below her lips, the young symenestra smiling. Arachnia clicked her fangs in turn, the silent glee between the two seeming only bizarre if an outsider was to observe. But she did not care.
Leaving her companion was not a difficult task. She knew Arachnia would always be here, willing to notice her and listen to her secrets.
Saying farewell to her companion with a fond thought, the child decended the cave wall, her prowess in climbing at such a young age already well advanced. Her sisters often teased her about her nimble agile ways, but Syndela could only laugh and mock them back. Her feet found the ground, or what was considered the basin. A thin silk rope bridge, flimsy and snowy in texture. Travelling and running on the fragile structures did not matter to the Symenestra. She was at home here or anywhere else in the city no matter how thin the ropes of silk became.
Time was getting on the short side, the light in the already dull centre dwindling. Heralding the call of night. There was only one option to get back home without her mother, Desmona, getting overly anxious and aggressive; to run.
Tiny steps transfered to long, longer, longest. Athletic legs soared over rocks, pebbles, root systems. Nothing would get in her way. Syndela ran as fast as her feet would carry, the feeling of the wind burning against her face widenning the fanged grin - oh the freedom it brought. The Symenestra conquered the bridges, skimming across it with speed marvelled by peers of her own age. She could outrun anyone, and even people older than herself could not catch her. Creatures, however...
Monsters, the entities of the dark. They were what pushed the female to rush harder and faster. Stories of the nightmares that lurked in the vast crevasces, figures that crept the floors - they were told to the children for a reason. Infact, that was the very reason her father had passed. The topic of his death was often short lived however, speaking of such things in their house was considered a taboo.
Syndela felt anticipation creep along the back of her neck, etching the hairs to stand straight as her long white hair whipped behind her running figure. Though her house was not far from where Arachnia resided, the distance between the hanging pear-shaped residences seemed further in the dwindling light. Humanoid silhouttes masked against the windows, suggesting activity was still abroard. As light patched from candlelight and lanterns from the windows converged upon her skin, the figment of the child appeared out on the other side of the tightrope structure. Her pace slowed, allowing her rushing feet to pat the silk with less momentum.
Feeling the stares of several of the cities civilians upon her, Syndela felt obliged to walk, her mouth slightly agape in silent pants as her attention shifted to the entrance of her families home. Beads of light trickled from the top, fanning out like yellow and white flickering strings. Hopefully her mother would forgive her for such late arrival, or perhaps she was out teaching stories in the evening. A little mercy for childish exploration was to be excusable and forgivable or at the least, considered.
