Be the Spider [Rwaht]

[Ayara]

It really was a damn good cave. Deep and dark, yet its walls radiated warmth. Perhaps they were near an underground spring? Glorious. They'd been there for days, hiding from the world, which just wouldn't stop raining on them. Now that the weather was finally clearing up, the eve of their departure was upon them.

Ayara woke up a couple of hours after the sun had dipped below the horizon, emerging from the cocoon of pelts and blankets she was so used to sleeping in. She stretched and yawned massively, crawling out of her pile and enjoying the feeling of each muscle limbering up as she stood, relishing the feel of the web beneath her feet. She'd covered the cave floor and wall around her in fine layers of webbing until sleeping on the hard rock suddenly became like sleeping on a soft mattress. She'd put down several of these, actually, always moving her sleeping spot every morning, looking for the perfect place to sleep. And she'd found it, almost in the very heart of the cave, where the only light was the luminescence of her eyes. She was loath to leave this place, she realized.

She didn't hurry getting dressed, determined to enjoy the warm darkness of the cave as long as possible. It was a sense of obligation more than anything that made her take the journey out to where her father had nested himself, closer to the mouth of the cave.

As she passed her earlier sleeping spots, which had been converted into screening webs to keep the light from passing farther into the cave, Ayara very quietly pushed the word 'nested' out of her mind. As she passed each screen, the pale moonlight became more prominent, as did the flickering light of the cooking fire. With each step, the world receded from her vision until she was squinting, blinking, trying to ignore the slight itching behind her eyes as the contrast between light and darkness grew stronger and stronger still. She made a mental note to try and remember to get her father to track down a darkened lens for her glasses the next time they passed close to a town.

By the time she reached the main camp, her father was a vague shape of general features and no detail. She smelled something cooking, which meant her webs outside had born fruit. The hunting in this part of the forest was really excellent. One person could live here for years- nope not happening not ever.

She gave her father a hug. "Evening," she said, smiling. "What's for breakfast?"

[rwaht]

x x

Path of Honour

Rwaht hadn't slept in nearly ten years.

That would've meant the death of most other people, but Rwaht's rather unique solution afforded him the luxury of spending his every moment awake. While he focused only on his dedication to the sanctity of life, all pain and exhaustion became the reverse. While he was so focused, he was as rejuvenated as if he had slept. He spent most of his nights in that manner, shifting into and out of absolute inner peace. The side-effect, of course, was that he assumed his younger form, which was far too risky in the daytime. At night, it was less risky.

Now, however, his old form had receded. Now he took the form of the destroyer once more, his silver hair reaching down to the floor where he sat, patiently, his legs crossed. He was adjusting a pot that was boiling rabbit meat, from three rabbits that had been captured in Vriska's webs. Behind the fire, the skin of each rabbit had been delicately laid on a stone. He had wished the soul of each rabbit happiness, wherever they went. The very real fact that his daughter could not survive without meat compelled him to eat other beings, but he found it hard. He hoped that, whatever pure part of those rabbits that was the essence of life, that part that Rwaht firmly believed was immutable, incorruptible, and would go on to survive forevermore, would understand that he needed to do these things for the one young, beautiful, sad girl who he so loved. He smiled as he heard Vriska approaching and looked to her, his motions controlled and precise. The training of a swordsman had never left him, not even after all these years.

She hugged him, and he raised a single hand to her back, tenderly hugging her close. He kissed her softly on her forehead.

"There's my little girl," he said fondly, refusing to acknowledge that she was growing up. He would never forget how small she had been when she'd been born. How small she'd been when they'd made the road their home. He gestured to the rabbit skins, laid almost ritualistically on the stone. "They are. It is not a sin to eat them," Rwaht said, his voice sounding strangely detached, though affectionate, "But we must never forget their sacrifice." He pulled Vriska close and kissed her on the top of her head, the slightest laugh escaping from his lips. "But don't mind this old man's prattling. The rabbit will be delicious. As it happens, it's almost finished."

He got the pair of small, metal plates that they used and spooned a fair portion of rabbit stew into each. Vriska's was greater, and he made sure to give her much more meat. Her metabolism demanded it. He produced a skin of water and laid it next to Vriska's plate. His own need for sustenance was far less than that of a normal person; he imagined it was because of his rather unique ... condition.

"Did you sleep well?" Rwaht asked, not having yet touched his plate. It was easy for him to forget. "Did you have any dreams?"

[Ayara]

Ayara sat down next to her father and dug into the stew with gusto. It delicious and so hot it burned all the way down, and the contrast between the hot stew and the cold water washing it down did wonders to banish the last vestiges of sleep from her mind. She set the waterskin down to her left, the side facing away from her father. He was so constantly vigilant it had never happened, but Ayara always tried to keep their food as separate as possible to avoid any accidental sharing.

"Like a baby," she said happily. She tried to recall any dreams from the day before. "Not much that I can remember, really. Darkness, webs, hunting and... cheese and potatoes? I think there was a six-headed dragon made out of cats, too." She shook her head. "Nope, it's fading."

She ate some more, staring at nothing in particular. "Are we leaving tonight?"

[rwaht]

x x

Path of Honour

Rwaht was proud of his daughter.

Her life had been tremendously difficult, certainly far more than she deserved. Rwaht had observed that in such circumstances, people tended to land somewhere between two points, between being bitter and accusatory of the world and the people who were populated by it, and being compassionate and understanding for all the suffering they had been through. Ayara fell onto the latter end of the spectrum, not only for her obvious, dramatic moments, but for the small ones. The way she conscientiously would position her food and drink carefully away from her father, without thinking to mention it or be bitter about it. Those small moments of caring made Rwaht as proud as he could possibly be. He smiled as she spoke.

"That's good," he said simply, remembering to eat a small bit of his stew. He tried to remember the last time they'd had cheese. He wondered if Vriska even liked cheese. He honestly didn't have the slightest idea. It was hard to carry things that might become spoiled or rotten, and cheese was one of those things. He knew not to put too much stock in dreams, but he didn't want to ask Vriska if she liked cheese, the implicit question being "can a spider-girl like cheese?" His every choice was calculated to make her hard life as easy as possible. He thought about her next question for a while.

"Not quite yet. We're still safe here. I haven't seen any signs of any intelligent life for a while. I don't think we have to worry too much about being intruded upon. However, we will have to move soon," Rwaht said thoughtfully, taking another small spoonful of stew. It was rather good. As the years had passed, Rwaht had gained more than his fair share of experience cooking with spices, water, a small amount of meat, a pot, and a flame. He was pretty good at it now, he liked to think.

"So," Rwaht said, his voice as soft and intense as it always was. "What would you like to do tonight?"

[Ayara]

Ayara didn't know whether to be happy or sad to know that they'd be leaving soon. She merely nodded vacantly, busying herself with her food as the desire to stay and the urge to leave pressed up against each other with all the force and inevitable quake of continental drift. She scrambled for an answer that didn't involve lines like 'For starters this cave could be a lot more homely.'

"Well, the trap webs outside probably need maintenance, and the ones those rabbits walked into are going to need to be rebuilt eventually." That would kill a couple of hours, at least. "Other than that, I don't know. I definitely don't feel like leaving this cave until we have to."

She moved closer to Rwaht and leaned her head on his shoulder, trying not to hit him with her horns. "Tell me a story?"

[rwaht]

x x

Path of Honour

Rwaht smiled.

It was nice to hear Ayara talk, unimpinged by doubt or fear. That was, he supposed why they were out here in the first place. When she'd been younger she had disliked being in these isolated caves. Now she enjoyed it quite a deal; it did not take a genius to perceive her unique biology influencing her fondness for the cave. Rwaht wanted to let her stay here, wanted to let her be happy, but he couldn't take the risk. If they stayed too long, they might begin to form a pattern. A sudden increase in the number of dead small game, perhaps one or two spider-webs seen by the wrong person ... they could not risk it.

"I'm sure you'll be able to fix those traps. We'll just have to make sure it's very dark," Rwaht said idly, eating another spoonful of stew. Forests were good in that respect; the trees made the sky grow darker sooner, which both hid them from unwanted eyes and improved Ayara's vision. He smiled when she leaned on him, and he wrapped an arm around her shoulder, pulling her close. "We won't leave tonight. How about the day after tomorrow? We can use the cart, if you like." He smiled when she asked for a story. He didn't know that many of them, but he did have something of a knack for inventing them on the spot.

"A long time ago, there was a man walking down a road," Rwaht said, inventing wildly. "This road was very dry, in a land where the sun would never set. So the land was always parched, and water was invaluable to anyone on the road." He paused, both for dramatic effect, and to try and think of what would come next, since he honestly had no idea. "As the man walked, he would need to drink from the skin of water he had at his side. And soon enough, the water skin was empty, so the man grew very thirsty. He was hoping to find someone or something on the road, that would be able to provide him with water. So," Rwaht said, smiling and looking at his daughter, "What should he find? I don't think we want to leave our poor wanderer dying of thirst on the road."

[Ayara]

One more day. Yeah. One more day sounded just right. Surely she wouldn't get too settled in just one more day, right? She nodded her assent, and that was that and it was officially Story Time. Vriska smiled as she fondly recalled a time when she had wondered how her father knew so many stories. When the secret was out that he simply made them up on the spot, Story Time had become something of a joint venture.

"An old man," she suggested. "An old man who offers up his last thimbleful of water for a favor."

[rwaht]

x x

Path of Honour

He enjoyed these moments.

The peaceful times when he could simply be a father to his daughter, without the burdens of a cruel world weighing on them, were more precious to Rwaht than little else, save the daughter herself. He enjoyed these little adventures more now that Ayara was an active participant rather than simply a listener. She was good at it. She had an impressive imagination, and a sort of compassionate innocence that made the stories much happier than they could have been if only Rwaht was telling them.

She was rather fond of wandering, altruistic old men. The thought made him smile.

"All right, then. An old man," Rwaht began, looking to the ceiling and thinking. One of Ayara's webs had made its way up there, somehow. He was always awed at how beautiful her silk was, how intricate were the patterns she weaved. Some would look at them and only see a spider's web, something to be cleared away. Rwaht saw so much more. He realized he was getting distracted. "So our wanderer meets an old man in the road. And the old man, who has only a small pouch of water, offers it to our wanderer. But you see, our wanderer is an honourable man. He says he cannot take the old man's last drop of water, not on a road as hot as this. The old man smiles, and says that our wanderer is a good man. He gives our wanderer something, something of great value. I haven't the faintest idea what it is. Only beautiful young maidens can enlighten weary old men on that subject, I'm afraid," Rwaht said, poking Ayara in the side with a smile. That was her cue.

[Ayara]

Ayara couldn't help but giggle in a manner many would call utterly adorable when Rwaht poked her. She couldn't help being ticklish. She considered the next bit carefully. "Hmm... The old man gives the wanderer a piece of ice that will never melt completely."

Yeah, that worked. She made a mental note to take down the web Rwaht had been staring at later. If he suspected she was fighting an impulse to create some kind of home there things would just get complicated.

[rwaht]

x x

Path of Honour

He'd never been a good storyteller,

not by talent, anyway. It had become something of a skill he'd picked up out of necessity, as his daughter had grown and their old books had already been well worn out. After a while, he'd gotten pretty good at it. It helped that Ayara was such a captive audience. And she was much more inventive than he was. He laughed.

"All right, a piece of ice. So, with his problem solved, our wanderer would melt his ice into his satchel, though the block would never shrink in size. So he had drinking water, and went about his way." Rwaht tried to think about what was next. He also tried to come up with exactly what this story was about, what it was meant to tell. He wanted it to be the sort of story that would make Ayara smile. He didn't always succeed in that, but he tried. "His problem thus solved, our wanderer continues along the path, moving towards his destination. However, as he is walking, he finds a young child has fallen on the side of the road. The child is not injured, but he is fast asleep. What should our wanderer do?"

[Ayara]

Happily remembering that she still had a steaming helping of rabbit stew to finish, Ayara narfed down another gulp, eating at a more leisurely pace, maximizing her enjoyment of the food, the story and the simple comfort of her father's presence. Tonight was going to be a good night. She could tell. As long as she avoided any unnecessary complications.

"He wakes him up to see if he's okay, of course," she contributed. It would hardly be a good story with a protagonist selfish enough to leave a child by the roadside.

[rwaht]

x x

Path of Honour

Rwaht laughed as his daughter ate.

She seemed so happy for a girl eating a poor rabbit stew, listening to a poor old man tell a tired old story. He was glad that she was happy, but he wished so much better for her ... he wished that there were more people who could understand her. Some day he hoped he'd find a way for her to exist happily, outside of the confines of caves and hideaways. She would always be different, of course ... she was not built the way people were. But he didn't think she enjoyed the utter solitude that she had been forced to live with. It ate at him every day, even in her smile. He absolutely refused to let her see it.

"Of course he does," Rwaht said genially, casting about for another facet to the story. "The child wakes up, and is very thirsty. So our Wanderer, with his ice cube, offers the child as much drink as he could need. But try as he might, the child's thirst is never sated. Between sips, the child informs the wanderer that he has a terrible curse: he will be thirsty until the end of time, and if he does not drink on each hour, he will die. So, our Wanderer's generous spirit having been firmly established, the Wanderer does the only thing he can: he gives the child his cube of ice. The child tells the Wanderer that all is not lost, however. While the child must go back the way the Wanderer came, he tells the Wanderer that along the road, there is a beautiful woman. The Wanderer, determined to go about his way and invigorated by the promise of a beautiful woman, goes along the road. Eventually, of course, he finds her. But I can't remember for the life of me what she looked like," Rwaht said, assuming Ayara would pick up on the fairly obvious hint.

[Ayara]

Ayara liked it when the stories had women in them. Too many stories and fairy tales only included men. Consequently they were dull. Their stories were never dull. Ayara listened with rapt attention as Rwaht chronicled the Lone Wanderer's journey and took to the prompt gladly. She liked describing the female characters. She though she was fairly good at it, too.

"She's almost as tall as the Wanderer, with thick brown hair cut short, but not short enough to be hidden completely by her travel outfit, forming these cute little bangs that frame her face, only emphasizing her green eyes. Her clothes are light and loose, yet they hug her figure just close enough to hint at a toned body with a sly wink and a nudge, and yet it still leaves so much to the imagination you can't really stop imagining. She's disheveled and dirty from days on the road under the sun but it doesn't detract from her beauty even a little bit. Instead it says 'This is a woman who can take care of herself. She gets shit done'." Ayara seemed to realize how long she'd been talking and laughed awkwardly. "Wow. I got a bit carried away there, huh? You get the picture, anyway."