Hello I can't help myself and I had another idea right after: still maulrex because I'm a gremlin, with the sentence: "Make me." 🥸 pleathe
There is a stranger in his den.
His Serpent feeds him and fears him and giggles before they feed and wraps himself around his skin when they are full. He hears the angry, snarling arrival of the interloper and feels the glee of his Serpent, but the stranger feels no fear, only an aggressive calm. This stranger curses his Serpent but their mind feels cool and steady.
A balm to the searing, burning, scorching landscape of his mind.
He stalks them through the tunnels of his home, following the moon-white glow of their carapace. They pick their way through with caution and confidence, not an ounce of fear.
They are aware of him, his presence, the threat of him, but still no fear.
He charges them and there is a loud noise and a bright flash and he retreats, whimpering at a new point of searing, burning, scorching pain. They follow with something like interest, predatory but not hungry, unsure if this is territory they want to challenge him for.
The den is his—his den, his territory, his place—and he will fight them, drive them away, tear them apart and feast on them if they try.
They follow him at a sedate pace, creeping along until they reach where he sleeps. Where he eats. Where he keeps his fire. Where he lets his Serpent curl around him and croon into his ear. They follow and watch and do not challenge; they remove part of their carapace to reveal a face.
Brown skin that smells like sweat and frustration; black hair that is short and curled and stiff with something that makes him wrinkle his nose and growl, deep in his chest; a wide nose and flat cheeks and deep brown eyes and a curved mouth, all that set his hearts thumping in a baffling rhythm. He hisses at them and retreats further, though they make no moves to attack.
"I didn't know they made spiders that big," the interloper says, mouth curling further, eyes glittering. "Do you know the way out, little spider?"
Their mind sparks with something that is aggressive but not cruel, heat without burning, a bite that draws no blood.
He snarls, trying in vain to frighten them away, but that spark grows.
"Are you going to hurt me, spider?" They sound intrigued, amused, by the notion. "Gonna try to pin me down again and gobble me up?"
He retreats up the wall, retreats into the shadows, hoping the predator does not follow. To fight, yes, he is strong enough to fight but this strange new thing does not react the way they should. He growls and it does nothing at all to make the predator leave.
"If you want me to leave, spider, you're going to have to show me the way out," they say, strolling closer and closer. Their voice curls around their words strangely.
They pause, and tilt their head. "Well, that, or I suppose you can try and. Make me."
