Chapter Text
In the riot of life present in Greenpath, one would think there would be more fun to be had. The lush greenery of the area seemed to crowd in on their heads, leaving Lace with a lingering sense of claustrophobia. Small creatures not worth killing skittered about the foliage, and the constant whisper-hiss of acidic springs filled the air.
With a pointedly dramatic sigh, Lace lounged further on the ancient iron bench, counting the measures in her head until Hornet pulled her attention from her self-appointed tasks and looked at her.
Minutes ticked on. A chunk of overgrown shrubbery fell into the acid with a sputtering hiss, revealing the remains of a winding stone path. Hornet grunted as she ripped another root from the path, tossing it into the spring without care for the dirt spattering her cloak and shell. Lace tore her gaze from the sight to continue pretending she didn’t care.
Hornet had said there was importance to the task of keeping the Pilgrim’s Way open for any new citizens of her kingdom to find the City of Tears. Something something, change of heart and new beginnings, Lace had only been half listening. She’d hoped for more action, honestly.
Lace sighed again, loudly, chancing a peek toward where Hornet was stomping stones back into place to repair the shabby remains of the road.
“If you are bored, you could always lift a claw to aid me,” Hornet finally said, her words clipped. Maybe Lace had mentioned she would help, before she realized how dull the tasks would prove.
“And dirty myself with such menial labour? I think not. I say you should give up and let your would-be pilgrims fight their way through properly. Toughen them up a little.” Neither of them had seen hide nor chitin of any pilgrims, yet Hornet spoke of these potential bugs as though they would emerge momentarily from behind an overturned stone. Lace hadn’t cared for their presence any more than she’d cared about the pilgrims of Pharloom, only these she knew would be off limits for her pin.
“No, I will not leave these roads to fall further to ruin. If you will not help, feel free to occupy yourself elsewhere. You are not bound to my side.” She tore another root up, hacking it apart with some serrated tool she’d crafted.
Lace chafed at the dismissal. “I might get hopelessly lost in the ruins of your caves, and then what would you do?” She would never, of course, but Hornet should be the one to say as much. For once.
Hornet didn’t answer at first, prompting Lace to finally sit up and look at her properly. She was fiddling with something stuck into her claw, a thorn of some kind, and eventually tore it free with a dribble of blue-white hemolymph. Another excellent reason, in Lace’s opinion, for neither of them to be lowering themselves to this menial work.
“I would come and find you,” Hornet said simply, annoying Lace further with her refusal to dispute her claims of getting lost in the first place.
“You sound so sure of yourself! You have struggled to find me before.”
“I was not looking for you specifically in Pharloom, and was not familiar with the lands you stalked. You recall I had no trouble tracking you in the Abyss.”
Lace barked a laugh. “That was hardly the same circumstance! I bet I could hide myself away from you here, in your own lands, and I’d make a fool of you for even trying to find me, oh great hunter that you are.” Lace leaned towards her, eyes glinting. “We can make a game of it, something more entertaining than this lowly labour you insist upon.” She kicked her legs, grinning devilishly.
Hornet was not moved. “I don’t have time for games, Pale one. If you wish for play, I am sure you could convince Bretta or Myla to partake in such childishness.” She turned to address more of the thorny vines she’d uncovered near the path. Lace’s temper flared anew.
“Coward. You’re afraid of losing.” Noting the way Hornet stiffened, Lace lifted a hand to inspect her nonexistent claws with a casual air. Better to get under her shell that way.
“I would not lose.”
Gotcha.
“Then accept the challenge. The plants will be here when you get back, and you can while away my head start with them besides.” Lace finally met her eyes, smiling. “If you cannot find me by tomorrow at first light then I win a prize of my choosing. Simple rules for your simple mind.”
Hornet narrowed her eyes, calculating. She’d likely only just noticed she’d played right into Lace’s hand, the poor thing. So dull. It was a good thing she was good looking or she’d truly have nothing going for her.
“And when I do find you, what would be my prize?” The tilt of her head matched her arrogant tone.
“’When’! How bold! That’s hardly worth discussing until you prove your mettle,” Lace giggled, side-stepping her own lack of planning, “Give me an hour’s head start, spider, I know how fast you run.” She stood and stretched, revelling in the huffed exhale from Hornet that marked her amusement. Of course she would protest something she wanted, so noble and determined to forever pay penance against her own enjoyment. Lace would break her of the habit if it was her dying act.
“Very well, Pale one. You will have one hour.” Hornet brushed the mud from her mask before she moved to close the distance between them, ducking her head to the space between Lace’s neck and shoulder before adding in a low voice, “Make it count.”
Thoroughly flustered, Lace stumbled back, spinning to race towards the entryway to the Forgotten Crossroads without meeting Hornet’s gaze. The spider’s low chuckle chased her until she was well out of earshot.
Of course, the crossroads wouldn’t provide Lace the cover she would need to avoid Hornet. For all her needling, she did acknowledge the spider was an expert tracker, and simply putting distance between them wouldn’t be enough to win.
No, she would need to be smart about this. Brains over brawn. Hornet might have the advantage of familiarity, but Lace was always just a little quicker on the draw.
As she crossed into the bordering cavern of the crossroads, Lace raced over the suspended platforms spanning from floor to ceiling, ensuring she ran in enough circles to cover her own tracks before ducking back into Greenpath. There, she made quick work of leaping along the narrow gaps in the choking greenery to the lower sections of the area where wisps of thick fog began to seep into the dark, winding tunnels.
Fog Canyon and its neighbouring land, the Fungal Wastes, would hopefully provide her the coverage she needed. Hornet’s little trick hadn’t gone unnoticed; despite her sorry excuse of a shell’s lack of pheromones, she recognized that Hornet would be able to track her by the scent of her silk, and the spider had ensured she knew what she was looking for. The thick fog and cloying fungal spores should disguise her well enough while she worked to find a better hiding spot.
Descending into the canyon proper, a gelatinous bubble burst at her feet as she landed on the dewy outcropping of stone at the start of the crevasse. Heavy with static, ephemeral purple clouds hung thick in the air, stirred by the movement of dozens of floating creatures partially hidden by the fog and emitting the occasional blue-white discharge of electricity. Hornet had once mentioned that the canyon could confound even her, the strange mist and heavy air working against her senses at every turn.
She would probably regret mentioning such a thing after this. Lace was glad she’d chosen to pay attention.
Dodging the large and explosive Ooma floating placidly along the path, Lace travelled lower, splashing in a puddle of condensation she was deeply glad hadn’t been acidic. The satisfaction of her end coming as a result of Hornet’s lapsed attention would not undo the embarrassment of dying in such a careless way.
Oh, to imagine such a thing though! Lace, laying in beautiful tragedy within the swirling mist, only to be found by Hornet, who might even show a modicum of emotion at her loss! How delicious. Such indulgent fantasies were the type to keep a girl up at night.
Coming to a fork in the road, Lace hummed, trying to remember the way. The Fungal wastes connected to a building of some sort, didn’t they? Was that through this corridor or...
Startling her from her thoughts, the tentacles of an Ooma draped over her shoulders as the creature slowly floated downwards. Lace swung at it without thought, realizing her mistake as the gelatinous outer bubble of the creature burst against the wall, its explosive core homing in on her in retaliation. With a shriek she leapt away, the creature soaring over her shoulder and narrowly missing her head.
Behind her, the explosion echoed through the mist, muffled by the thick air. She nearly missed the following hiss of the Ooma caught in the explosion as they zeroed in on her. The first one collided with the underside of the ledge she was on, the dull boom warning her of its incoming brethren. Lace leapt up and away, cursing how much of a mess she was leaving. This could hardly be considered stealthy!
Dropping down further, intent on getting out of the canyon before her time was up, Lace narrowly dodged another blast. She raced onward, leaping over an acidic pool nearly hidden by the thick fog. A scattering of Ouma floated placidly ahead of her, popping harmlessly on her pin as she cleared her path forward.
Ahead, a familiar sign rose through the mist. Ducking into the stone corridor, the final Ooma crashing into the wall beside the entryway, Lace rushed toward the lights at the end of the tunnel. The fog was thinning here, and soon, thank the Song, she came into the yawning ruins of the Queen’s station. No time to appreciate the crumbling infrastructure, Lace hopped easily along the platforms, slowing her pace to stir the spores with her pin as she crossed into the Fungal Wastes. They settled freshly over any tracks she left.
Far above, an hour having passed, Hornet shook the mud from her cloak. Collecting her needle, she took a deep breath, caught the faint scent of silk in the air, and took off at a steady run towards the Crossroads.
The Fungal Wastes were repugnant and Lace regretted ever stepping foot in them.
She’d spent too long here already, running her trail in loops and double-backs to confound Hornet when she inevitably tracked her here, and now paid the price of lingering. Orange-brown spores clung to her threads, casting her a dull hue and making her itch terribly. Her passage had unfortunately also been noted by the strange mushroom-creatures erupting from the very walls, scuttling around in many cases and trying to catch her in conversation in others. She swore the latter to secrecy on pain of death and hurried along, not trusting for an instant that they wouldn’t mention her to Hornet if asked.
Lace also regretted promising not to murder the oh-so-friendly surviving denizens of Hallownest. No one would miss a couple of sentient mushrooms, surely.
Maybe this game wasn’t that serious, but she was irritable and on edge from running, and more importantly, she hated losing. Hornet’s stupid, smug face when she was proven right was the worst.
The Wastes were a natural maze, much like the rest of the kingdom, and would have provided ample hiding opportunities if Lace had not been so very eager to leave. The waters here were just as acidic as above, hissing malevolently whenever she dared get close, and wouldn’t provide the necessary cleansing she required to stop being so damned uncomfortable.
No, she wouldn’t spend even a moment longer than she needed to here, not when the relative comfort offered by clean water was so nearby.
Of course, after some horrible historical act of preservation she’d heard over and over about yet never bothered to remember the details of, the easy entry to the dreary City of Tears was barricaded. Hornet had mentioned in the past that she wished to open the gates for anyone seeking entry, but their age and size had proved a challenge. Still on the to-do pile, the solid stone blocking Lace’s access now was inconvenient to say the least.
Luckily for her, she remembered another route to an area below the city, one where she could wash up and hide from Hornet while the poor spider chased her tail above. Lace giggled at her own cleverness, dropping carefully along the narrow platforms at the border to Mantis territory. Another group who would, without hesitation, rat her out to Hornet if she were spotted, she avoided their notice with carefully silent leaps, landing finally at the entrance to an enormous pipe; the City’s Waterways.
Perfect.
Here, in the dark, twisting pipes, she could avoid notice and hide away for a while, the time limit she’d set ticking ever down towards her victory. No chatty mushrooms or aggressive Mantises here to give her away, Lace congratulated herself on her excellent decision. There were other unspeakable horrors scuttling about, but she could avoid or kill the flukes easily enough if pressed.
As she wandered deeper into the labyrinthine Waterways, the ever-present murmur of running water filled the air, along with the echo of sticky, wet noises, gurgles of drainage and beasts alike.
A clear-flowing pipe draining rainwater from the city above provided an opportunity to rid herself of the itchy spores clinging to her shell, and Lace took full advantage, her groan of relief bouncing off the metal walls. She froze, listening for any signs she’d been heard.
Only the burble of water answered her. She slowly exhaled the breath she’d been holding.
Duly noted. Silence it was.
Lace realized all at once that she wasn’t accustomed to being the one needing to hide. Her entire long life had been spent chasing, performing, demanding attention and fear alike. This game provided a novel experience, though one she wasn’t sure she preferred.
Maybe she could convince Hornet to hide from her next. She’d had no trouble tracking her across Pharloom; how different could this be?
The maze of the Waterways stretched far under the City, and Lace took full advantage of the sprawling system, chasing fancy as she saw fit to make any trail she left harder to follow. She lost track of the time she spent wandering with nothing to mark the hours, keeping half her mind on any signs she was no longer alone. The flowing water carried many signs of her presence away, including the corpses of the hwurmps she took great enjoyment in playing with.
Finding a large cistern dotted with the bobbling creatures, Lace grinned, poking the nearest one with her pin. It inflated to massive size, using its tiny wings to pursue her with all the malice of a balloon. She batted it away, knocking it into its fellows who inflated as well, propelling each other to bounce off the walls and platforms in hilarious fashion. Each time one got within arms reach she knocked it back with her pin, finally giving into giggles she stifled with soft silk of her palm. When she did not have her pride on the line she would have to drag Hornet down here to do this again. Surely the spider could be moved to liveliness with enough temptation! There had to be some semblance of personality under all that dullness.
Lace allowed herself to muse on the subject, the hwurmps finally succumbing to their injuries and deflating, their corpses dropping into the water below. Other than her prowess in combat and a sense of duty so skewed and deep-set it would likely kill her if removed, the spider had proved somewhat of an enigma. She could be quick-witted when she felt like it, usually at Lace’s expense, and enjoyed her little gadgets and doohickeys enough to get lost in their building. Her love for her kingdom was... admirable, Lace supposed, but was that all she was?
Did she need to be anything more than that?
Did Lace?
She shied away from the thought. The idea of finally being allowed the freedom to fully explore herself and become her own person, only to end up being boring was enough to make her want to scream.
Lace watched the reflection of the water ripple over the walls of the now empty room. With no more of the hilarious little creatures left alive, she would have to find something else to occupy her remaining time, lest she get lost in her own thoughts. Maybe moving to another area, if only to confound the spider further. The pipes leading from the cistern must connect to somewhere interesting. Probably up to that dreary city, if she had to guess by the clarity of the water.
That would make for a fine place to hide. So many rooms and nooks and crannies. Lace could sit cozy and dry up in some luxuriously furnished tower and wait for Hornet’s time to run out. She still had to think of her prize.
From the darkness of the pipes behind her, a firm claw shot out, snatching the wrist of Lace’s pin arm. It twisted in such a way as to force her pin from her grip, immobilizing her and ridding her of her main form of defence before she could even scream. Her assailant had been absolutely silent. Lace thrashed, trying to wrench or kick free and finding herself caught in an iron grip as her attacker yanked her back to their front, hexagon-marked steel coming into view as they readied their blade-
Wait. Hexagons.
Hornet chuckled in her ear. “I commend you, Pale one. You made for an excellent challenge to track.” A moment later and Lace was freed to whirl on her, punching Hornet in the shoulder with the full force of her outrage. Hornet let the hit land, taking a half-step back with the recoil. Lace could practically smell how smug she was.
“How dare you! Accosting a lady in the dark like that! Have you no shame?” Lace snapped, trying and failing to use her fury to cover the very real panic she had felt. Unrepentant, Hornet only stooped to collect her pin, offering the curled pommel to Lace as she rose. From the angle, Lace could see within the raised cowl of her cloak to how the fur around her neck was standing on end, giving the spider a much fluffier appearance than usual.
Cute.
No, not cute! Extremely rude!
“You offered a hunt, and if you knew I was approaching I do not doubt for a moment you would have fled,” Hornet returned easily. “Now, you spoke of a prize?”
Lace burned under that insufferably arch look. She had half a mind to run anyways, and only her curiosity and upstanding sense of morality kept her from doing so.
“Fine,” she snapped, working to rein in her temper, “To the victor, the spoils, though I can hardly offer you much. It’s not as though I have anything you would want, unless you would care for my weapon or what little rosaries I still have.” She batted her eyes innocently at Hornet. It was hardly her fault if Hornet hadn’t considered her lack of worldly possessions.
Unfazed, Hornet regarded her curiously for a moment, eyes glittering in the dim light. There was a tension to her that made some deep part of Lace sit up and pay extra attention.
“Is that so? Very well, then.” She stowed her needle at her back, angling it lower than usual. “The prey is usually the only prize needed after such a hunt. You will do nicely, in that regard.” Before Lace could demand clarification, Hornet pounced, scooping Lace up and throwing her over her shoulder like a sack of silk dregs. Lace shouted in protest, thumping Hornet’s back with the pommel of her pin even as her free hand fisted in the soft, damp fabric of her cloak. She kicked her feet and swore, already planning her revenge for such treatment as Hornet absconded with her up towards the City of Tears.
Even while a small part of her revelled in being considered a prize worth taking.
The trip was made quick by Hornet’s familiarity to the Waterways, exiting into the eternal drizzle present in the City of Tears. Lace had by this point given up fighting her, hanging limp in her grip and watching the rain run off the wet stonework paths, run smooth with time and erosion. She was jostled about as Hornet rose up, up, to a lit doorway in the wealthier section of the town.
The evocatively named Pleasure House had apparently once been a place of luxury for the bugs of Hallownest, once featuring live entertainment and many different lavishly decorated rooms for all manner of activities. Much like the rest of the kingdom, it now sat mouldering and mostly abandoned, with the occasional occupant passing through to rest or make use of the enormous baths.
These baths currently stood empty of bugs, with only the thick, fragrant steam filling the room.
Finally, Lace was deposited on the floor close to the edge of the steaming waters. She staggered slightly as she got her bearings again, her feet at the lip of the tub. Hornet lay a claw against her chest for a moment before pushing, causing Lace to overbalance backwards into the bath with a splash.
She came up sputtering in time to see Hornet resting her needle against a bench and, for once, removing her cloak. A fascinating mix of shiny, black shell and coarse, dark fur, Lace allowed herself to take in the sight, even as she boiled with indignation.
"Was that really necessary, spider?" She snapped, wading to the edge to deposit her pin and shuck her waterlogged coat. The warm, silky water of the baths were nicer than the impromptu shower she'd had in the Waterways, but there was no way she would admit that.
"You would complain of fair treatment," Hornet returned, amused. She hopped into the bath with barely a splash, immediately moving to corner Lace against the rim with a hand on either side of her. Lace's eyes went wide, noting the predator gleam in Hornet's gaze. "You said yourself I get a prize of my choosing. Is it so wrong to prefer clean prey?"
"Oh, you did enjoy our game, didn't you." Lace tried for teasing and missed the mark, her voice hushed. Pinned to the wall of the bath, Lace gripped the smooth rim with one hand, the other moving to touch the raised fur between Hornet's shoulder blades. She so rarely got to see her like this.
Hornet hummed, noncommittal. "It was more engaging than brush clearing, I will admit." She dipped her head to the space between Lace's shoulder and neck once again, breath warm against her even in the humid air, and Lace was, again, surprised by her own flustered reaction.
"A-and you intend to do what with me now, as your prize." She swallowed hard, subtly leaning her head away to expose her throat better. "You spoke of prey; do you intend to devour me, spider?"
"In a sense. You would do well to remember such taunting carries consequences." The cool metal of Lace's pin was pressed into her hand. "If you wish for a swift exit though, do not hesitate."
This, of course, mitigated much of the threat Lace assumed she was supposed to feel. Ever chivalrous, Hornet had kneecapped her own lesson in the attempt to ensure Lace had agency she didn't need.
Regardless, shivers raced up Lace’s back at the first pass of Hornet's fangs over her threads, chelicerae dexterous enough to play along the seams of her make like the strings of a violin.
Maybe the spider thought of tearing her throat out, a beast devouring its prey. How exciting.
"You needn't be so gentle, I will not break," Lace murmured, tilting her head further to allow better access and revelling in the fresh tension that shot through Hornet. It was a lie, of course, but who better to break her?
"Is that so?" Hornet's voice was a rasp against Lace's throat, moments before she shifted to sink her fangs deeper into the soft silk of her neck. It hurt, making Lace gasp and twitch. Hornet tensed and repeated the action, her grip moving from the edge of the bath to Lace's hips and squeezing.
Lace made a disgustingly needy sound that seemed to echo in the empty air of the baths, gripping Hornet's fur harder instinctively. Her pin lay forgotten next to her other hand as she moved to brace against the stone rim of the bath.
True to form, Hornet was not gentle, teeth and pedipalps working over Lace's throat greedily, lost to the animal of her predatory instinct. Her tongue traced the ragged edge of a new wound before she moved along, tearing threads as she went, her grip tightening. A stuttering growl rose from somewhere in the spider’s chest.
Surprising her further, a bolt of heat shot to Lace’s lower belly, and as Hornet shifted her stance for a better angle, Lace's hips sought friction against her thigh.
To Lace's immediate humiliation, Hornet froze. She pulled back delicately even as her breathing came harsh and quick, studying Lace's expression, her own unreadable. Lace released her hold on her fur and found that she couldn't meet her eyes.
"I, ah, apologize. I did not intend for such rough handling, I know not what came over me." Hornet took a half step back, reaching to touch Lace's throat before seeming to catch herself, looking to her for permission. "Pray, allow me to mend the damage?"
Lace had half a mind to say no, caught between warring desires of pushing Hornet up against the wall of the bath and demanding she continue her ministrations, and fleeing as quick as she could run to avoid facing whatever had just transpired.
Shivery and hot, Lace settled on tilting her head to the side again and muttering, "Yes, fine, make it quick then."
The itchy pins-and-needles feeling of Hornet's silk repairing her did little to assuage the ache she felt, and shifting slightly in the warm water just made her want to chase it further.
How gross. Am I no better than a beast?
"I think you've made your point then, spider, though don't think I am not in want of a rematch. I can do better to escape you than that," Lace said, glaring sideways at Hornet as she made the repairs. If she didn’t talk about what had just happened, maybe they could pretend it hadn’t transpired at all. She drummed her fingers against the rim of the bath impatiently.
"Hush, this is delicate work." Apparently Hornet was of similar mind.
"And entirely your fault-" a thread pulled taught in her neck and Lace went quiet with a wince.
"A rematch then, at a later time. I have much work still to complete in Greenpath, thanks to your distraction." Hornet hummed, finishing a stitch. "There. Perhaps a better prize would have been forcing you to help me clear the greenery." She stepped back, seemingly having composed herself, and turned to wade towards her cloak and needle.
Lace's quiet laugh was rueful. "Yes, that definitely would have been wise."