a little lacenet snippet from a fic iâm writing. Iâve rewritten this chapter approximately one million times between all my school and work so itâs been a hot minute, but hereâs a little piece of the angst! itâs chapter is 5k words and growing đ
Minor TW: Suicidal Ideation
âWould you like me to fix that for you?â She offered.
âHm, this?â Lace wrapped a piece of her fraying silk around one of her metal digits, tilting her head. âI donât want your help, spider. How am I supposed to become self-sufficient if Iâm always crawling back to you when I get a little scratch?â
âIt is hardly a scratch. I can see your skeleton.â
Lace blinked at that. Could you really? Well, she still had to stand by her point, lest she look foolish.
âAnd? I know how to handle myself. Perhaps you should worry about your own life threatening injuries.â
Hornet had irritated her back injury by participating in the festivities. Fun as it had been, it had likely not been the wisest idea and she knew it. Sheâd likely have to touch up the wound tomorrow in order to make the trek back to Songclave.
âI do not doubt that, but please,â Hornet asked again, expression sincere beneath her mask. âYou allowed it just some time ago. What difference does it make now?â
Lace stared at her for a long moment, clawed fingers tangling themselves deeper into her silk. Her gaze fell from Hornetâs. She seemed conflicted about something, although Hornet knew it would be folly to try and ask. Instead, she just sat opposite of her with her hands in her lap. She was not opposed to silence.
Hornet was well aware of the mental battle that Lace was going through. The details? Not exactlyâ although she had a few inklings. The struggle was what Hornet understood. She had wished so direly that she had had someone to speak to back then, when she bore similar weights. Perhaps she could be that bug for Lace, even if the woman was a bit⊠combative.
âI donât want to be dependent on anybody. You, most of all, should know that.â
âI do, yes. But accepting help does not make you dependent.â That must have been the wrong thing to say, because Lace suddenly grew angry.
âYou donât understand anything. You donât have to spend the rest of your life worrying about decaying into nothing. When you defeated me in the Cradle, you took the only chance I had at a life without any conditions.â
Her silk heart, Hornet recalled. It was little wonder sheâd grown weaker after having it taken. Hornet, for her part, suddenly grew ashamed that sheâd never thought about it. Seeing her pause, Lace scoffed.
âRight. Of course. Because why would you ever think about something before you do it? Thatâs all you weavers ever do. You take, take, take, and then when your consequences make themselves known, you act like youâre the victims.â
â⊠Iâm sorry, Lace. I neverââ
âSorry doesnât fix anything. I wonât act like I wasnât fragile with it, but at least my body could heal itself to some degree. Now Iâm destined to wither away unless I come to you. Do you know how humiliating that is? To have to follow you around like some sort of pet?â
Hornet blinked at her. She had no idea that this was even an issue. Sheâd figured that Lace was just feeling self-destructive and needed a considerate hand to guide her in the right direction. This, however, was perhaps a little beyond her scope.
âI have no issue aiding you,â Hornet managed, feeling that her words here were somewhat useless.
âThatâs not the point, spider. Why wonât you listen?â Lace stood abruptly, her metal skeleton jerking inside of her. She looked like she wanted to say more, her hands tangling in her black silk. She desired so deeply to shred and tear, her anger and resentment of her form warring with her desire to prove Mother wrong. To be her own person.
But was that even possible?
Could she do the same thing Hornet did to her, to reach within her chest and take her heart for herself?
It wasnât possible, Lace knew.
Her grip tightened on her silk. Hornet stood, slowly, and extended a clawed hand.
âDonât touch me. This is your fault.â Lace hissed. Hornetâs hand faltered before falling back to her side.
âYou are going to hurt yourself,â the weaver said gently.
âAnd what if I do? What good is a life out of my control? Iâve spent my entire life vying for this, Hornet. And I tasted that freedom when Mother was taken, when I was taken.â Lace recalled the sensation, when void had taken her form. It had been frightening at first, but what followed was a delight she never could have imagined. She was stronger, faster, more durable, more capable. She didnât have to worry about her body decaying in on itself. Lace could do anything she wanted, whenever she wanted. But then⊠âAnd then you took it from me. And Iâm back in thisâ this husk!â
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