"Wait…"
One could really imagine what one of Arachnea's lairs would look like — a lot of webs, caves, and grim darkness. They would be right; one out of three, that is.
There are a lot of webs, a lot. But Rhys wasn't in a cave at all, it wasn't even dark. The webs did not even look grim, everything just seemed immaculate, white, and perfectly arranged like a room, a hotel room, even. Arachnea even weaved a curtain — no, she weaved everything that Rhys was seeing in less than a few hours…
…even the cuffs that were binding his limbs to the bed.
"Wait…?"
Arachnea's voice was incredibly coquettish, even more so than before; the sound of her sharp legs tapping the floor, somewhat rhythmic as she very slowly approached the bound Rhys,
"But you seemed so eager to be in my arms just earlier — even leaping at me and telling me to take you to the Underworld."
