Arachne woke up suddenly, cool air rushing from her window, hitting her square in the face and causing a chill to run up her spine, both from the swift gust of air and the unmistakable surplus of sweat coating her body. Her own warmth battling against the inescapable cold was almost ironic, something that caused the drow elf to chuckle to herself wryly as she stood up from her bed.
She pressed her hand against the footboard, using it to center herself as she closed her eyes for a brief moment, attempting to not allow any form of tear slip past her waterline as she recalled what Chadra had said to her about Durdyn; it was a harsh thing, meant to scare her, dishearten her, and it had worked. Arachne found it difficult to think of anything besides the desperate longing she felt to confirm her sister's claim, hoping that somehow her brother was still alive.
Eilistraee had promised, no, reassured her that she and Durdyn would reunite one day, perhaps in the distant future, or perhaps in the nearby future, she was unsure of what she had meant, but as such was the way of things when it came to gods and their followers. Some worked tirelessly to dodge around the plethora of rules set out for them to follow and enforce when they become divine, while others follow those rules harshly, worried of what may come. Arachne's Lady was balancing on both ends of a horrifically steep cliff, for she kept the rules in mind, but she had to breach them to get past her mother's wall of power.
Arachne attempted to remind herself that it could be possible that Chadra was lying, trying in some way to scare her out of hiding, truly showcasing how desperate she truly was for any way to bring an end to what she thought to be a sorry life, whereas, in truth, the eldest sister, as always, was richer in experiences. That was one thing that never changed between them, no matter how long it had been since they last conversed, or laid eyes on each other for that matter, the constant threat of deadly competition still meandering down some metaphorical path.
A tear found its way past her closed eyes, dribbling down her cheek and falling from her chin onto her chest, her eyelids beginning to ache at the build-up of water gathering within them, so, despite her better judgment, Arachne opened them. A stream of tears followed, and it took most of her willpower to keep the rest of them from falling, for she knew that even then someone could be watching, waiting for a moment of weakness. She had been shot back into a world of paranoia.
She had not felt so scared to express her feelings in such a long time that she had half forgotten how to hide the dangerous ones, the ones that would get her killed should she make the slightest mistake or the smallest misdemeanor. Arachne even almost subconsciously reached for the veil she had been trapped behind for years, knowing that it had become her shield from danger, before she had to remind herself that she was safe, or at least more safe than she had been.
But instead of her veil, she took hold of something else made of fabric, and when she looked down to investigate its origins, she found it to be a sweater of fine make, yarn and thread intertwining together to make a garment that seemed to make her feel warm just by looking at it. Putting it on was almost as if she was wrapping herself in some form of tight hug, another jab to her already wounded barrier, for she desperately missed those gentle hugs from the woman she had loved.
There had been nights that either of them couldn't find the urge to sleep, so, instead of talking to each other all night like some normal couples would, the two of them held onto each other in almost every possible way, from holding hands to hugging, there was no way that they weren't keeping themselves warm. Arachne remembered that last hug, the one she never received back, for Amalica's lifeless husk had been cold and there had been no warmth to greet her. She now wondered if it was Chadra's doing.
Even the very pattern of the blanket itself had some correlation to Amalica in the design of the sweater itself, causing her to shrug herself further into it, seeking the warmth she knew she would never find again. Red swirls mixed with gray and blue, her late fiance's two favorite colors, all perfectly sewn into the thick garment, which seemed to only imply that Merliah knew of her struggles, and even if she did, she didn't know her partner, no one else who was alive did. That was the truly saddening thing that Arachne found after her passing, that there was no one for her to grieve with, no one to exchange stories with, and most of all, no one who could truly understand what happened during the attack.
She slowly picked up her feet to open the door, holding the sweater close, trying to imagine that it was someone that she cared about holding her instead of the yarn that made up the sweater, and even so, she recognized that the fantasy could never be lived again, or at least for a long time. And grasping onto the cool metal of the doorknob almost brought a bout of tears that she had been trying to hold back, as it showed as a subtle reminder of the frigid world around her. She had been lucky enough to find some semblance of warmth in the otherwise boreal world she found herself in.
Turning the knob and pushing the door open, Arachne made her way to the door across from hers that led into the second floor of the library, which, just as the mansion did, had four floors dedicated to books, scrolls, artifacts, and magical items used for studying and the like. It was almost reminiscent of the times during her youth that she would sneak away into the library to feel safer in a place where no one could harm her.
The smell of parchment and ink hit her the moment the door opened, and a smile reached her face, gentle and pained as she let tears fall from her cheeks. It was hard to imagine a library without Durdyn, without Cazna's secret passageway, or even the docile librarian in the Cell Maccis library that had clearly been through too much. Instead, all Arachne was left with was herself and walls of boundless knowledge.
Wiping tears from her cheek, she turned to face the first wall of books closest to her, examining their spines before reminding herself that she couldn't read the common tongue, causing a sigh to escape her lips. Arachne slumped down into the corner beside the door, her knees pressed against her chest as her hands held her head up, looking into the would-be darkness of the library.
And, almost as if out of nowhere, Arachne heard a small voice, quivering a small in comparison to her own, unsure and youthful, speaking in the elvish tongue as she required. "I-I can h-help you find a book? I-in elvish maybe, o-o-or undercommon."
Arachne turned her head to catch a glimpse of the source of the voice, hoping that it was who she thought it to be, and, as firelight made itself known around the corner, the drow elf caught a glimpse of the strange gnomish boy. He had a chamberstick cradled in one of his small hands, a closed book in the other, innocent wide eyes twinkling in turn with the light he produced. He was quivering just as she was.
She stood up, walking over to the child with a small smile on her face as she wiped more tears from her cheeks and chin, holding the sweater a little further away from herself as she did so, "I'd like that."
Erky led the way to a different section on that floor, holding his chamberstick slightly to the side so as to share the light, even if his compatriot didn't need it as much as he did, but even so it seemed to bring him some form of confidence, allowing him to speak with less of a stutter. "Why are you here a-anyways? I-I thought you'd be sleeping."
Arachne sighed to herself again, looking down at the boy as she joined him at his side instead of beside him, "I had a bad dream. What about you? Why are you here? You're awake past your bedtime, aren't you?" she teased him slightly, although it seemed as if Erky took it a bit differently, seizing up a tad.
"Y-yes, b-but I c-couldn't sleep. M-Merliah doesn't c-care as long as I'm reading." He turned the corner to the right of them, jumping up for a brief moment to take hold of a book a couple shelves above him, and, miraculously, he pulled it from the shelf and grabbed it. He presented it to her with the same vigor as he had when he had taken the book from the shelf, and, with an amused grin, Arachne took it from him.
The front of the cover was written in elvish 'Viconia DeVir – Elvish Edition' was inscribed in the leather, painted gold on the brown cover. "Thanks," she muttered, pressing the book against her chest.
The two of them sat across from each other on mahogany chairs adjacent to a table of the same kind, staring at their books as if expecting more conversation, an awkward pause and air beginning to fill the room. It seemed as if the two of them recognized that they had both gone through something that either led to their mistrust or anxiousness, and for some reason they seemed to have quietly bonded over that fact, something that brought them together while also pulling them further apart.
And it took a moment for Arachne to realize that the two of them simply sitting in silence was important either way, the small gesture telling both of them that the other cared and felt empathy for their case. The fact that Erky could trust her enough to sit across from her said quite a lot, seeing as many people would have wished to simply walk away in fear after handing her a book, but this ten year old seemed to only be scared of his environment and not herself.
Comfort had been something Arachne could scarcely afford over the past several months, and, for some strange reason, Erky was the reason she felt comfort at that very moment, and she could only assume it was due to the promise of safety. But even still, she had not expected to be in such a solemn state during her first night staying in the abode she found herself in, especially after being visited by a person that she had once thought had lost track of her.
And, whilst thinking about her past, her mind wandered towards the set of rings hanging from a chain on her neck, touching it for a moment before she smiled to herself, realizing what she could do. Something to start over. Her smile was no false smile either, but a true smile of joy as she unclasped the necklace from around her nape and laid it on Erky's book.
"Take it," she said.
The gnome took a good look at the rings, no doubt realizing that they were engagement rings, before turning to face her again, "Why?"
Arachne felt tears beginning to form again as she opened her mouth to speak, beginning to rethink her decision to give up her last physical memory of Amalica. Instead, she powered on, "It belonged to someone very important to me, and since she passed away, it's given me courage. But I think you need it more than I do."
"I… uh," he paused, taking the chain in his hands, "t-thank you."
She stood with her book in her hand, holding in her tears just long enough for her to utter her last words of the night before she turned away, "Have a good night, friend."
And just like that, she had let go. She had finally let go.