Pain was an acid; it had a way of consuming the heart and vessel should it be left to fester and spill over. Valerna had hoped that he'd discover hope by inquiring into how Gerhard's family lived. Hope in the form of a memory. A single wink of time that could serve as a ray of hope in an otherwise depressive juncture of his life. The chieftain kept silent, those brown eyes studying the giant as he mustered the resolve to stand and meet her. How interesting. It seemed the butcher had a spine after all. That sense of renewed vigor served as a single glint. A shimmer of what once was and what could still be. Naturally, the spider suspected its significance was lost on the commoner. Nonetheless, Valerna wouldn't interrupt the survivor. Instead, she granted him the floor as Gerhard reminisced. She couldn't help but wonder if he did so out of fear and duty and not of his volition. A thought that seemed substantiated by how the butcherer recalled his family. Gerhard abstained from using their name or specific memories of their life. What Valerna had hoped would be a snapshot into the peasant's life materialized into something different. The Araneae was dumbfounded. He spoke of the fallen members of his family as if they were employees. The cognitive disconnect presented itself as an ominous warning. Either Gerhard was a sociopath, or he couped away their death. Valerna figured this was his way of defending himself. A methodology to prevent himself from reliving the tragedy. Sadly, to her, this suggested the butcher wasn't ready to heal. A sentiment she understood all too well. Grief was a peculiar thing. Despite not being intangible, it held grave significance over our development. And if left unchecked, it could spiral an individual into the deepest recesses of heartache. The spider soughed, her chest rising and falling as Gerhard recounted them. Her talons continued to stroke the fine hairs of her eight-legged offspring. A subtle act that was therapeutic to both of them. Valerna had enough information; she had glimpsed into the man's soul and beheld nothing but blackness. The darkness was so thick that she wondered if any light could repel its depressive weight. The answer to that question seemed inconsequential. Gerhard would have to face it alone. "You're a fractured man. I inquired into them, and not once did you provide a name. It seems you have disconnected their identity from them. That, or you're unfathomably selfish. Tell me, what happened to your village? How many survived? Why did you escape rather than aid in its reconstruction?" She paused, presenting a moment for those inquiries to sink in. "My wife, Niazmina, she died to the defiled. They attacked the capital. She was brave, as always. It was this grit and individuality that I found appealing. Initially, we bought sought to use one another for our people's gain. Upon discovering one another's ulterior motives, our relationship didn't wither. No, it budded. She was loyal to the Baderkerk'khan till the very end. She did her best to save as many as possible at the expense of her life. Her people are now my people. And though she may no longer be physically by my side. I still feel the heft of responsibility and her spirit. I'll keep my vows and give her passing and life meaning. Not by weeping but by forging a path ahead. One that she'd be proud of. Otherwise, her ghost might return and nag me. And if there is one thing she excelled at, it was that." Valerna finished with a chuckle. Sprinkling a dash of levity into an otherwise sorrowful exchange.

The illusion of honor often toiled as a justification for brutality. Few possessed enough integrity to admit the uncomfortable truth regarding violence. It was easier to coat the ambivalence under the guise of a higher purpose and through idealism. Valerna had grown past such childish antics. She beheld the reality for what it was, no more and no less. The spilling of blood was both a detriment and a catalyst for oneself and their nation. Conflict begot advancement and understanding, yet it also could erode the pillars of progress. Dramon and Gerald were both men tethered by bloodletting. Their spirits cojoined due to prior allegiances and the disemboweling of a shared foe. However, here within this juncture of time, former brothers were now set loose on one another. That common thread of identity now presented itself as the agitator. The want for peace held no jurisdiction within this wink. The spider knew the outcome; one would perish so that the other may live. Respite could only come once the ordeal had been overcome. Words alone would not avail or cross the divide. The two had surrendered themselves to this destiny. The look of unbridled contempt was ostensible in their eyes and body language. Dramon was coming face to face with the consequences of his actions, whether he liked it or not. The ripple he generated long ago now assumed the form of a tsunami. A series of subtle pushes often could produce massive alterations. Whether Gerald was good or evil never entered Valern'a mental webbing. Those shoal classifications held no influence within the wilds. The winner will leave and disseminate whatever account he desires. And from that, the public's opinion will be formed and solidified. The giant could interfere. However, she didn't wish to cheapen this experience. And if she saved her host, he'd likely perpetually hold it against her. Some men must tend to their garden. And she deduced Dramon was one such being. Silently the arachnoid watched, once more marveling at Gerald's lack of forethought and understanding. The dolt brandished that dagger, limiting its effectiveness. Valerna apprehended that such weapons functioned alongside the element of surprise. Dramon's greatest weakness was his lack of an arm and rustiness regarding this theatre. From what the chieftain observed, the humans of this realm were weak. How effortlessly she could conquer and shatter their resolve. Their most significant failure wasn't their smaller builds and lack of magic. No, it was a total disregard for the fundamentals of strategy. If Dramon wasn't a liar and he served during times of war, it stood to reason Gerald was no different. And so far, all she witnessed from such seasoned fighters was an utter absence of merit. Dramon froze, showing the soldiers of this realm lacked a proper fight response. And the ambush party invariably squandered every advantage. They even failed to prioritize, mobilize, and use the environment or their superior numbers. And even when they had surrounded Dramon, the band did nothing and allowed the cripple to escape. In her eyes, they were all weak. Gelatinous apes pretending to be fighters. A deduction made all the worse due to their bigotry and misplaced sense of pretentiousness. However, if these humans were somehow still alive, that proclaimed that the races they persecuted were even more wretched. This conclusion led to an irrefutable premise that this world was far too peaceful. Darwinism typically didn't support wimps. How, then, could such a pitiable excuse for an organism survive? It made no sense. Nonetheless, it supplied some solace. Valerna knew now that she was far and above their apex predator. Mentally and physically, she stood well above the others. They were right to fear her. That dread didn't come from the unknown. But an understanding that when contrasted, they were inferior in every conceivable metric. The exosystem of their pond had been disturbed. And there was no going back.

The Darwinian essence of the macrocosm exhibited no clemency to the lethargic. The warriors before her were wimps, toddlers masquerading as soldiers. Throughout this ambivalence, they presented not a single speck deserving of notice. Unfailingly they failed to assess their precarious predicament. Their mind was so filled with contempt that they frothed from their mouth. Hatred clouded their judgments, and this state of delirium would facilitate their untethering from this world. Valerna would be their liberator, and she would free their souls from those earthly vessels. The swift cessation of yet another compatriot endowed these louts with a pittance of perspicuity. Their leader, Gerald, was far too bent on exacting his retribution that he remained blinded to the truth. However, his lackeys demonstrated themselves as having a degree of insight. The duo apprehended how the dynamics had so drastically shifted. Fear, that most rudimentary of responses, aired itself. Its fetid stench radiated out as a precursor to what followed. A bellwether that telegraphed how shallow their fidelity and camaraderie were in actuality. What fleeting prospect for survival that could have subsisted was long since evaporated by the folly of their commander. Gerald was a poor tactician and an even sadder excuse of a predator. The men of this province were spineless, and the only grit they harbored was built not on merit but on bravado and hubris. Dramon, her escort, was no different. An actual combatant knew only one response. Civilians battled between fight, flight, or freeze. But one of his training and background should revert to that muscle memory. It was that indecisiveness that would result in the expiration of the equine. An animal that, by all rights, was blameless. Nevertheless, it was sacrificed upon the tabernacle of Dramon's enfeeblement. The two that fled would discover their retreat compromised. For the third time, they ignored her, tolerating their emotions to usurp control over their survival instinct. The discharging of those strands ensured they would become entangled within her motherly filigree. The webbing stopped their mad dash as she pulled back and left Dramon to rediscover his true self. The dread was palpable as the two underlings were met with the towering physique of their executioner. The spider was done abiding by the insolence of humanity. They were mostly insidious parasites who were beset by egoism. Valerna intended to rectify the natural order by terminating these soldiers who stood for no banner of ideology. In her eyes, they were merely highwaymen putting up a performance to circumvent the iniquity they merrily gorged on. She soughed before raising and dropping her weapon onto their skulls. The bones fractured instantly as the force of her swing and the impact of the head against the earth proved too great. Valerna turned, standing while waiting for Gerald and Dramon to settle their little lover's quarrel: four down, one pig left to slaughter. However, she wouldn't be greedy and generously left the honor of butchering this swine to her affable host. The former leader of this band of delinquents and nitwits came running, only to see the giant he had foolishly spared standing over the corpses of his men. "I lied." She replied with a snicker. "Don't worry. I have no interest in interfering with your little dispute. If Dramon falls to you, then the universe has deemed him unfit. And if he guts you. Well, let's say the baptism of blood will do him much good. I suspect he has gotten portly and complacent due to his years of sequestration." She added while keeping her blade at the ready, a bit vexed that the red mist of such unworthy prey dared to blemish her pale skin.

Fear was a powerful motivator. Nevertheless, terror ultimately pivoted the people against their government. Gerhard hadn't anything to fret over, yet his impromptu reaction was one of quivering. Could it be the butcherer found her beautiful children to be repulsive? What inanity, was it not their webbing that girdled and safeguarded her people? Spiders were an icon of security, not a symbol of obliteration or woe. The matron judged this man, albeit she obfuscated this fact and supplied no outward inkling. Valerna concealed her trepidations that this man's story was a deception. The quavering alluded to a man on the run. After all, only a delinquent would need to fear her eight-legged offspring. If the commoner was lying, gleaning this fact should be easy enough. Grant it, his appropriation of the defiled made it a more onerous affair. Their pollution and incursion spread far when they last pierced into their world. And if it weren't for the chieftain's preparations and dismissing the former council's edicts, then her people would likely be extinct by now. The giantess resumed the spinning of her lip piercing via the manipulation of her split tongue. Those arachnoid ligaments affixed to her spine twitched as her domineering gaze sailed from the pitiable drifter. Gerhard would be granted a reprieve from their gravity. Valerna somewhat affectionately patted the heads of her spiders, their purring raising in volume. The man would be left to grovel as he assumed a most humiliating position. One that she hadn't demanded nor appreciated. "I detest striking my constituents with such anxiety. It's an affliction that the weak and dimwitted regard as flattering. Yet, here you are, cowering like the denizens of the desert. You're of clan Jorgenskull, are you not? Rise and meet your chieftain with a strong spine, not a jellied one." She purred before firing a glance at Gerhard from the corner of her eyes. Valerna had identified the sordid vagabond as harmless. The witnessing of one under her yoke conducting himself so chickenheartedly turned her stomach. The spider strutted forward, her sashaying, stretching, and compressing the web under armor swathed across her full-figured build. Her heels slammed mightly into the earth as she stood over the man. That shadow she cast was heavy, only eclipsed by the fearlessness behind her eyes and the puffing of her bosom. She had hoped such intrepidity might rouse what little virility remained within this broken and disheveled giant. And if not, it would prove just how much of a lilliputian he had become. "The defiled, the embodiment of chaos that strives to shush the ensemble of order. They underestimated the Verdant dynasty once; they'll do it again. I made sure to purge away the individuals who held back our defenses. The council had outlived their usefulness and seemed intent on dooming us all." Valerna's words were expressed with the utmost conviction. A pause followed a hefty sigh before she resumed her speech. "The world needs its heroes as much as it does its traitors. Whatever history may make of my decision is irrelevant. All that matters now is that they live long enough to chuck their stones behind the future we provide. I'd rather be despised by them than to see them swallowed by oblivion." The Araneae commented with an indifferent shrug. "I have no doubts you've overheard my song. And while it may have resonated with you, I assure you I didn't sing it for you. No, I did it for all those we have lost. From your family, my family, and all those who have mourned through the pain sown by those virulent fulminations. It's sadly a song many can relate to, and that's my greatest failure. I apologize for your family's passing and the mark it has left on your soul. The ripples it has set into motion will leave currents and eddies that will permeate our world long after this generation dies—a series of events that were partially due to my failure as a matron. If I had done more, maybe fewer would have felt their souls weighed down by the tune that drew them out of that bar. Tell me, not of their deaths, but how they lived?" She demanded.

The beasts before her lacked even a mite of stratagem. The dolts focused on Dramon, a man with a single hand and an ax. It is a weapon known for lacking defensive value but supplemented it with adequate crushing power due to its wedge. Never before had the spider bore witness to such inanity. Were these soldiers so uneducated and poorly trained they didn't understand the fundamentals of combat? How size, weight, and reach were significant variables in a physical altercation. And rather than use their numbers to their benefit and endeavor to slaughter her, they remained fixated on their obsession. Those chestnut eyes observed Dramon as he belatedly sprung into action. The spider stretched forth her hand as the lactation housed within her bosom rushed out and slithered up her dominant arm. The white fluid congregated at the palm as she bent the milk and solidified a macuahuitl. That newly conjured armament exceeded ten feet in length when coupled with her natural reach. Valerna had to be mindful of her host's position. The fact he was surrounded and being actively pressured meant she couldn't use any of her spells lest he ended up as collateral damage. The chieftain would take their insult and hubris and use it against the pack of mongrels. Once more, Valerna ejected a strand of that resilient fiber from her spider ligament. The material connected and ensnared the closest "warrior" as she pulled back and drug the man close. His fate was determined not by the hand of an irate cosmic being but because the moron kept his back turned to her. Without delay, she'd raised that foot and sent it crashing down onto his skull. The weight of over 2,300 pounds working in tangent with the force of that blow made short work of the human's cranium. The head caved inward, rupturing in sections as a pool of brain matter and crimson ichor pooled. The lifeless husk fidgetted while the final signs of life fired within a doomed vessel. The fellow's corporeal shell was rendered soulless while the rope she had threaded earlier was now being manipulated and woven by those arachnoid extremities, forming a shield of netting. Confidently, she sashayed ahead, the distance closing. The three remaining animals were in a precarious position. A pity, given they started with a sizable tactical advantage. An edge that didn't matter as it was now as dull and smooth as their brain. One thing was clear, soon, the full might of the spider would be upon them. "Surrender, and I'll let you live to tell the others of the glory of the Jorgenskull. Or resist the inescapable and face your death. A demise that, much like your life, will materialize as trivial within the eyes of creation." She warned, convinced that this little scuffle would be short-lived.

There was an air of bafflement weighing over the royal guard. How could a giant be as daft as not to recognize the symbol of his people? The Jorgenskull colors, icons, and flags were flown throughout. The symbol was donned by every guard, soldier, caravan, and on the outside of containers. This utter ignorance only heightened their suspicion. Could it be that he was stolen in the night while he was just a babe and raised by the Oni? Was this alleged butcherer inebriated to the point his mental recollection was compromised? One of the sentries kept a close eye on the wayward peasant. Meanwhile, his tools of the trade were confiscated, and the one he chitchatted with earlier relayed the information to the commander of the procession. The silence oozed, coating an already maladroit move. The atmosphere of curiousness was assumably usurped by one of trepidation. Gerhard likely second-guessed his actions, but the die had already been cast. The commander's approach broke the hushed aura, accompanied by the footfalls of five other loyalists. Their prestigious armor reflected the ambient light as they bore their medals of distinction. The officer studied the errant civilian, her bone mask obfuscating her facial features and expressions, further mounting the tension. Her brown eyes stood out from the skeletal sockets due to the black dye covering what little flesh was visible. The plumage throughout her armor held great significance, although lost to the dense proletariat. The soldier who had kept vigil watch over Gerhard banged his breastplate with his fist before about facing and marching off. Initially, the leader said nothing. A subtle move that communicated who held authority over the imminent exchange. The message was that she would dictate when the civilian could speak. The soldiers that accompanied the commander bore their shields and sword clubs. They were still resembling more statues than living people. The leader slammed the bottom of her polearm against the dirt; she did so three times before standing resolute before the peasant. "What manner of giant brings his knives into an establishment, let alone believes it prudent to carry when approaching the chieftain? One might think you're an assassin." Her words were to the point and harsh. The commander's voice was devoid of empathy or patience. "However, no contract killer could be so inept. You don't appear drunk, this leads me to assume you're stupid." The commotion was loud enough to warrant the gaze of other soldiers going about their duties. Meanwhile, as the spectacle had developed, the matron's fingers rested on the twines of her harp. Those digits pressed against the strings so hard that it left a brief but visible mark. Her brooding was blown by the hubbub deriving from the front of the roadhouse. The spider rose from her roosted position, carrying her harp as she navigated to the side to investigate the source. Valerna didn't wish to instigate an international incident. The Verdant and Fathomless relationships appeared strong but weren't unsusceptible to change. The Araneae's predatory gaze locked onto the giant male. Curious, what brought such a lowborn this far up north? Could he be a criminal seeking a second chance at life up north? Or a fool who assumed that fleeing from life's woes would amount to any positive change? The arachnoid maiden clicked her tongue, the spiders that carried their transports rushing over as they surrounded the scene. Some clung to the walls, others behind and by their mother's side, and some around Gerhard and her soldiers. Valerna petted her offspring; those she touched purred as she sashayed forward through the sea of beady eyes gawking at Gerhard. The harp was between her bosom as she halted midway between her original position and the intruder. Valerna found this equidistant constant to be comforting. "A lonely giant bereft of any notable crest, far from my loving filigree. Do you escape north to elude the people's justice? Are you seeking a fresh start to cleanse your failures or pain? Curious enough, you've merited the ire of my guard. A rare feat indeed, one that is justified. I trust their judgment to the point they hold my life in their hands. Why shouldn't I leave you to hash things out with them? I assure you, the commander of my procession is quite adept at extracting the truth." The commander noticed the matron's praise and puffed her chest. Meanwhile, the other soldiers finished setting up their perimeter, trusting the chieftain and the others could quell whatever sparked that disturbance.

The funeral had ended, and Niazmina's corpse returned to her family to serve the house. Their time together was blissful, albeit short-lived. The spider's web once more remained still, bereft of the vibrations of life. Life, for most, was an ephemeral affair. Valerna, on the other hand, was forced to tarry onward and alone. Yet another aficionado who journeyed across the ocean of time and left her standing silently by the shore. The eternal voyager was destined to trek down that endless odyssey with nothing but the memories of the dead to keep her company. The procession rocked back and forth as the caravan's wheels kept turning. The racket of their movements is an apt enough allegory for the spider's existence. Valerna sulked into her seat; her talons rubbed against a memento. It was the jeweled scarab she had created for her queen. And without her lustrous presence, the gemstone seemed cloudy. The day had come sooner than expected; it always did. Regardless, she had to carry on for her people and feign strength. There'd be time to weep when under the veil of twilight and alone. The chieftain soughed, placing the tchotchke between her ample breasts as the webbing secured it in place. The magical crystal pulsated and provided warmth, a palpation that reminded Valerna of Niazmina's spirit. With a heavy heart she'd rake out her bone harp. Those arachnoid ligaments stitched together strings as she tightened it across the instrument. She'd pluck them with her digits until the sound matched her memory. On the off chance her wife was peering through the veil, she'd play her that melody. The lyrics of which eluded the jackal but brought the two together. The royal carriage came to an abrupt halt. Valerna's body jerked forth as she parted the curtains and peeked out the portals. They had reached their destination, a hostel of sorts. Here, they'd stay the evening before entering her nation. The clamor of her guards securing the area brought a smile to her visage. These men were still loyal. She owed them everything. And Niazmina would disapprove of her appearing so impotent in public. The carriage door flung open as the Araneae departed from her coach. The warmth of the suns kissed her pale skin, inspiring a sigh of elation. It felt good to have her feet resting on the earth. Valerna ambled forward with a heavy stride as she metaphorically continued her odyssey. The soldiers carried out their duties admirably, unaware that the matron felt encircled by the dead. Their faces and names never once left her labyrinthian mind. A sea of ghosts, their blurred faces and translucent bodies only visible to her. The spirits parted like a lake, forming a wall of the dead as her sashaying continued. One by one, her soldiers turned and banged their hands against their breastplate. Valerna reciprocated the gesture with a motherly and warm smile. They were blinded to her pain, not surprising given the spider had time to perfect this little mask. A parameter had been set, and the area secured. Fortunately for the giant who ran this establishment, he'd make much profit this evening. Valerna strutted to the back, where she'd rest her posterior on a stump. The hard still in hand as she resumed and finished assembling the strings. Hesitantly, she'd pluck a few chords, testing their strength before scanning athwart the horizon with those amber eyes. The scarab jewel resplendently bounced back the ambient light as her fingers danced gracefully across the harp. Her voice rang out, an angelic crooning, yet one mixed with happiness and melancholy. "Sun and moon Day and night Darkness and the light Comes and goes All so fast Nothing ever lasts It seems I'm living in a place Forgotten now by time's pace So I'm left alone You and I Hand in hand We have just begun Somehow I'm Holding back What I feel for you I'm always living with my fears The time is swiftly drawing near I'll be left alone Our moments pass on by Then people pass on by And love keeps drifting away It all keeps drifting away One day I'll be there Someday I'll be there End of this long and lonely road. There is a place where tenderness calls the Solitude a friend No one is with me Nothing is with me All that remains are memories There is a place where coldness and warmth are Woven into one Do I love? Do I hate? So I hesitate When I know When I feel I may be too late It seems I'm living in a world Where joy and sadness have no shape They are both the same The sky is passing by The clouds are passing by The rain keeps falling on me It all keeps falling away One day I'll find it Someday I'll find it Within the vast and endless world There is a place where tenderness calls the Solitude a friend No one is with me Nothing is with me All that remains are memories There is a place where coldness and warmth are Woven into one Our moments pass on by Then people pass on by And love keeps drifting away It all keeps drifting away One day I'll be there Someday I'll be there End of this long and lonely road. There is a place where tenderness calls the Solitude a friend No one is with me Nothing is with me All that remains are memories There is a place where coldness and warmth are Woven into one." Those phantoms now surrounded her. Their astral forms swayed back and forth as Valerna went hushed and recalled their stories. Names, while forgotten to time and the world, lived on through her. And that was reason enough to carry on.

The rejoinder Dramon proposed didn't satisfy the spideress. In Valerna's mind, to give someone the benefit of the doubt was far worse than to presume enmity. One of those approaches had a nasty habit of ending one's life. If they frolicked through less aggressive pasturages, she'd consider it. However, she'd rather refrain from dispensing with charity so freely in light of recent developments. The distinction between both parties materialized as arbitrary and would remain as such until she had enough time to assess these gracious humans. But she wouldn't rain down on her guide's parade. The human was biased. He clenched at straws to redeem his kind. A reaction that only emphasized the degree of their iniquitous predilections. After all, if this lot of chimps were indeed so humane, he wouldn't need to stand for their integrity. Time itself was a fair arbiter and would reveal the soundest position. A realization that kept the arachnoid from engaging in a frivolous debate over the topic. Instead, she'd abide by it while concealing her skepticism. A gesture of consideration lest she invokes Dramon's anger. Thankfully the Araneae wouldn't need to devise a method to detour their little exchange. The arrival of others served as the perfect little segway. Nevertheless, given their evident antagonism toward the duo, it was far from ideal. Valerna kept hushed as the arrow was let loose, the projectile likely purposefully missing the mark. And much to her shock, the nincompoops' aggression wasn't steered at her but at the one-armed human. How riveting. Dramon had some secret admirers. The giant was dumbfounded, utterly confounded why they'd squander away the element of surprise. Say what you want about these varmints, but tactics weren't their forte. There was a slew of errors regarding their strategy, and their approach was full of weaknesses. Fools, why wouldn't they target the more significant threat first? Unless they minimized her to such a level that a handicapped man was perceived as the most dangerous. Perhaps she had misjudged her host, and he was an archmage playing a convincing act. Doubtful, given how the dolt froze. Those amber eyes quickly evaluated their pickle—five soldiers, but only one with a bow. The marksman was close. Drastically limiting the benefit of such a ranged weapon, that being its reach. The dolts were also complacent and cocky. But what would prove their undoing was their ignorance. Valerna would say nothing as she quickly steered one of her spider leggings to point at the bow user. A rope of silk fired from its tip at a blinding speed as it quickly diminished the gap. If it connected, she'd pull him off the ledge and let gravity do the rest of the work. All the while tightening that single webbing she had stitched earlier, preparing for combat.

The undying wayfarer discovered herself amused by Dramon's assumption. Never once had she said they rode birds. Valerna refrained from voicing that fact, as it materialized as immaterial. The wilderness of this land varied wildly from the primordial jungle she knew as home. The trees were shorter, the verdure far less kaleidoscopic arrayed, and the calls of the wildlife weren't as resonant as her motherland. Nevertheless, beauty still abounded across that labyrinth of small lumber. Her time trekking and subsisting off nature's bounty alluded to as much. The spider had prowled the shade before happening across Dramon's bungalow. While shielding her from the natural elements for an evening, the quaint hearth did little to scour away her experience. The antagonism of this rancours world, while assuming a different mask when contrasted with her birthplace, was nevertheless present. Despite its negative connotations, hostility persisted as a necessary component of life—a main ingredient within the stew where it all germinated. And such aggression, much like a forest fire, once quelled, left what remained to flourish more beautifully than before. A paradox she had bore witnessed throughout the totality of this eternal odyssey. Their journey had thus far verified itself as uneventful. The silence of the wilds, periodically, was overpowered by the neighing of that horse and the side commentary of its rider. And the spider was thankful for the lack of episodes. Such tranquility, while a deception, vested Valerna with enough time to take in the splendor of the environment. While dull in hue, the panorama was preferable over the destitute-stricken shack. The crunching of the earth underneath her boots and the brushing of verdure against her rubicund armor were all an appreciated distraction. And the fog blanketing the surface, while ghastly, sprinkled an air of mystery across the road. Dramon continued to speak. Evidently, he relished the racket of his thoughts put into words over that of the soundscape. Those amber spheres ranged from the picturesque veneer of nature and to that of the human. A smile, while radiating warmth, emerged across her striking countenance. Why did her guide need to underscore the disparity between the two factions? In the Araneae's mind, it was likely that Dramon was uttering those words not to placate her but himself—a mode of self-deception to rationalize his sentiment of angels within the hearts of men. That split tongue delignated across Valerna's plump lips, moisturizing them. Meanwhile, her arachnoid feelers affixed to that spine primped those locks of auburn. Idiosycrancies that Dramon had likely grown accustomed to during their brief fellowship. Those tiny gesticulations hinted that the predator was ready to speak. And given the dearth of retorts expressed thus far. It was feasibly a welcomed development. "I look forward for how your dear Maine will perform against the "birds" my people mount." She quipped, an easily overlooked indication of a communication failure. And one that likely stemmed from the cultural and environmental divide. "Great, I can't wait to visit this backwater village. I'm sure the inbred peasants would welcome me with open arms and not shriek. And given hunters already assailed me, you'll have to pardon me if I'm not enthusiastic about entering their lair." A revelation, something the arachnid had omitted from their prior discussion. An element, while perhaps troubling, she viewed as mundane—par for the course experience. "You speak of this other side as if you have fond memories of them. How riveting. Tell me, Dramon, what makes you so confident that these individuals defer so wildly from the Numerians you harbor much contempt toward? I'm aware you aren't precisely Mr.Congeniality. I deduced as much from our conversation by the fireplace. Yet, you have the luxury of appearing similar enough to their kind. Whatever the case, I look forward to testing your faith regarding their purity. With any luck, they won't hurl stones and grab their pitchforks. That alone would be quite an improvement." Valerna watched as the fog weakened and that bridge slipped into view. Fabulous, what shoddy construction. Undoubtedly, it could support the combined weight of Dramon and his dear Maine. However, Valerna was far heavier. However, she fancied the word endowed over weighing as much as an elephant. Providentially her silk would suffice to overcome such a pesky impediment. The spider didn't approach his little slice of paradise from this route. Instead, she clambered the rocks using her spider extremities and webbing. Rather motherly, the arachnid produced her resilient threads from the tips of those otherworldly extremities. And much like a grandmother knitting, the giant went to work constructing a rope. The men sheltering out of view remained concealed. While Valerna was quite the seasoned killer, the humans hadn't done much to give away their position. Blissfully the duo was unaware that her toxic outlook was once again destined to be verified. Due to her appearance, she would never be seen as anything more than a monster. An aberration fit only to be butchered under a fragile pennant of probity.

That impish little remark was forgotten as soon as it reached the Araneae's ears. Valerna understood the man enjoyed his innocuous games, and she saw no reason to deny him such fun. Dramon's quip was followed by a pause in his speech and a visible shift in his deportment. What troubled her generous host, she wondered? Nevertheless, the giantess wouldn't pry lest she invokes some ire. Whatever was going on in that cranium of his was of no concern. If he desired to share it, he would. The atmosphere reverted to its original ambiance, inspiring the spider to pluck her web and bone harp. The calming melody rode across the wind as the whispers of the trees brought a smile across Valerna's visage. Those chestnut orbs watched Dramon as he seemed motivated. A nod of assurance, while nuanced, was enough to endorse the fellow. Silently, she observed the mortal as he withdrew himself from her field of vision. Once more, he left her to rummage through introspection. A moment of solace she greatly appreciated. Sequestered from his company, the web threader mulled over Dramon's want to aid. Her host was quirky, yet she sensed no malice in those intentions. Unlike most, she had long since accepted Humanity wasn't wholly vile. Some within that race held tender hearts and benevolent souls—nonetheless, the disclosure regarding his sanguinary and hedonistic hankerings conflicted with the persona aired. War had a way of changing a person, coercing those ill-prepared to plunge deep into delirium and criminality. Although an inquiry lingered, had he done so with a heavy heart, or had his consciousness grown over time? Whatever the case, Valerna wouldn't judge the man too harshly. After all, she, too, had a necropolis inside her closet. Demons best left concealed. A laborious sough divorced itself from those succulent lips. That split oral muscle once spun that piercing as those dainty talons danced up and down those strings. The accompaniment of music should ameliorate her woes and quell uncertainties. She'd weave a fib if pressed, proclaiming that the harmony was meant for Dramon. However, the truth was quite the opposite. Those claws desisted their strumming as the man exited his home. The arachnoid studied his getup and preparation for a moment. The harp was placed away, secured onto her back as Valerna grabbed her hip. Patiently, she brooked it all while Dramon wandered off. The galloping of his beast of burden was met with the arching of those brows. Her eyes studied the prey's muscles as she pondered how such an animal might taste. The people of his province may have been accustomed to a mare. Valerna, however, wasn't from their domain. Such a creature wouldn't survive in the unforgiving climate of her motherland. Despite its slew of imperfections, there was a glimmer of grace to the mount. Upon reviewing the steed, Valerna veered her eyes at Dramon as he held the reins. A chortle drifted from her lips as they curled into a smirk. Valerna was amused by how she still towered over the human, even with the booster seat he rode on. The giant wouldn't voice what entertained her and instead selected to suppress it. "What a scrumptious little meal. Your stubby little legs wouldn't be able to keep up without it. And I rather not carry a warrior such as yourself. Don't worry; I won't bite. But I digress; all playful banter aside, let's be off." She purred before turning and motioning with her hand for the man to go first. "Lead the way. I presume you know these wilds better than a nonnative like myself? Plus, It'll allow you to chart our pace. Whatever that animal is, I don't know anything about it. Our preferred mode of transport is far bigger and feathery." She alluded to the saurian of the jungle. If Dramon elected to take the lead, Valerna would sashay close behind. The two were ready to leave that cozy cabin and gambol in the wilderness. What could go wrong? If anything should rear its unsightly mug, the spider was confident the one-handed knight would surely slay them. Her host was nothing short of chivalrous and likely had much experience playing with his short blade, given he was a hermit.

The spider enjoyed her little perch as she peered down from on high at the amputee. Dramon seemed focused on the test she had dropped on his lap. Valerna wasn't too surprised by the results of that little experiment. He wasn't exactly subtle with his interest; however, she had hoped he would rise above his carnal desires. Nevertheless, the human was fallible, just like herself, so she wouldn't permit it to sour their time together. Despite his wants, the hermit accepted her wishes and didn't protest that withdrawal. Those brown eyes scanned athwart the horizon as her heavy breast raised from an equally hefty sigh. Dramon appeared concerned that their paths would never cross again. The arachnid would be lying if she refuted the likelihood. Nevertheless, there was always a chance for stranger things have transpired. Valerna's lips bent into a smirk as she resumed the plucking of those strings. Her nimble talons danced up and down the harp elegantly. "Ah, that whole affair. If I were annoyed, I would have left by now. Whatever you're feeling, know I wasn't offended." She quickly added as the resonations of her song kept ringing out. Dramon's compliment concerning her musical talent was noticed. It helped that such a mesmerizing expression was appreciated by others, even if the meaning behind those notes remained unknown. It was such an innocent but welcomed change in ambiance. Valerna regarded it as an escape, discovering the arts as a meaningful treatment for her anguish—a way of echoing her despair so that it didn't build up inside. "Is that so? Then far be it from me to stop my playing while you get dressed for the road. Take your time. It isn't like it's a rare resource for me. I can't say the same for you, Dramon." She quipped. The Araneae descended from her elevated position as a thread of silk gradually lowered her. Those rubicund heels settled on the earth as she stood not far from the man. Valerna's hand secured her instrument as she paused that playing to address his somber remark. "Will we cross paths once more? It's hard to say for sure. Stranger coincidences have unfurled before my odyssey. After all, wouldn't you agree our meeting alone was...astronomically unlikely? It's almost as if some deity guided us to this point. And even if the answer is no, it wouldn't stay my marching. I have a daughter waiting on me and a tribe. It would be selfish to abandon them. If Florentina were here, she'd likely be trying to rush us on the road. I adore her, but she lives and breathes the military life." Valerna paused, realizing she had just given Dramon some tangible details about her home life. A sign that she was indeed warming up to the dwarf of a giant.

The activities of those adversaries were concealed by the fog blanketing the wilderness. Valerna had enhanced senses, but even she was powerless to pierce that veil. The morning had thus far proceeded without an episode, and there was no reason to assume things would change. The tranquility of this juncture suited the plucking of those strings. The soothing and haunting harmony she hemmed supplied a much-needed distraction. Dramon was a stranger still, and she would abstain from confiding in him her unsettling ruminations. Nevertheless, she didn't regard him as an enemy. The spider was more indifferent, if not slightly intrigued. Dramon's morning routine would proceed without any interference from his guest. Valerna was content to sit on her perch and hone her craft until such a time as he was ready. However, her music roused the fellow's interest and inspired him to leave the shack. Those amber eyes peered down at the man as he donned himself in the threads of a commoner. The strumming of that harp desisted as the human spoke. The need to apologize, while considerate, wasn't necessary. The arachnid was a light sleeper, and her slumber was hardly stable. The host had something on his mind. Valerna considered his small talk as a way to break the ice. The forerunner that would lead to the actual exchange Dramon sought. Nonetheless, she wouldn't air out such an assumption and instead would humor him. It was true she hadn't arrived with that instrument in hand. But the giantess had a way of constructing such things, and the mode by which she did so likely would perturb the man. Whatever the case, she reckoned he deserved an answer and the idle chitchat he yearned after. "I'm a light sleeper. Please don't bother yourself about awakening me. Still, I appreciate the gesture." She opened, emitting a cordial enough aura before sketching that tongue across her lips. "Altercation? Oh, you mean our conversation last night? I'd hardly label that as such. It was, riveting. The act of discovering another can lead to the butting of heads but is always worth the journey." Valerna continued before manipulating the harp as she inspected it. The activity meant to buy her time to think about best addressing his query. "No. I made it from my lactation. And the strings are of my silk. The exact process would bore you. It's not as riveting as it sounds. Your people tend to fancy metal, we bone. Magic is an odd thing; it holds relevancy concerning our trajectory. Nitwits fear it, endeavor to regulate it, or extinguish it. To do so is akin to trying to legislate entropy or any natural force of this world. You may try, but you'll only encounter failure while disseminating seeds of animosity you'll one day reap. It's something I've witnessed firsthand, and not just once. It's maddening how things repeat despite the results invariably materializing without variance. One might be forgiven for labeling it as insanity..." She paused, beaming at Dramon as she resumed plucking those strings. "Pardon the distraction. I can stop if it's interfering with your morning ritual? I've given it some thought, and if it appeases you, you may guide me to the end of the forest. But no further, as I'd hate to defer the progress we spoke of last night." She conceded.

There were those left behind who depended on the spider. Valerna spent the evening mulling over their fate. That crimson glow that raced across the land had swept her across worlds. The plan to repel the defiled likely resulted in a temporal displacement. A hypothesis that brought with it a slew of inquests. What of the others? Were they strewn throughout this reality, whisked across others, or were they unaffected? Her daughter Florentina had led the assault while she defended the motherland. Throughout the night, Valerna tossed and turned due to the vexation wrought by the uncertainty of her child's fate. The hours waned, the twilight fading as the pinking glow of the morning light slipped through the windows. Lazily, the matron remained sprawled on the floor, feigning a slumber. The door's opening reached Valerna's ears as she parted her eyes just enough to inspect the human as he went about his mourning routine. Initially, she maintained the ruse. However, the arachnid eventually decided the need for duplicity wasn't prudent. Nonchalantly, she rose from the floor and stretched just as Dramon gathered his armor. Those chestnut eyes studied the human while she said nothing and excused herself from the room. Silently, the web spinner strode through the living room before stepping outside. There she'd remain, giving the man time to tidy up while she studied the woodlands and the azure. The giantess considered the possibility she'd have to wait for a while as he needed to eat. Her anatomy differed vastly; the liquefied innards of the previous game still filled her belly. And while she could have used a bath. Valerna would wait till they happened upon a body of water. Given the current accommodations, the spider was far too big to bathe. Dramon's towels were tiny, and whatever pan or container he filled for water lacked the volume. Whatever the case, she'd assembled her bone harp before spinning together the webs. Once constructed, those sharp talons plucked the string as she played an enchanting melody that rolled across the wind. If her charitable host investigated, he wouldn't spot her on the ground. Instead, she had climbed and roosted on the roof. Those legs dangled off the edge as those brown eyes analyzed the distance. Ever vigilant as she soothed her nerves via the plucking and slapping of those strings.

The man's final words for the evening had reached her ears before eventually being silenced by the securing of that door. Valerna smiled, those brown eyes surveying the room as she strode across the chamber. Those boney talons ran across the various pieces of furniture while she took in the quaint nest. Dramon was a simple man, the no-frills sort of chap. The spider couldn't help but contemplate if this was his nature or a consequence of his unusual circumstance. In truth, the voyager could relate to being ostracized. During this unending odyssey, she often discovered herself sequestered from civilization. Life on the road brought with it many woes yet just as many glints of hope. Valerna had bore witness to the ephemeral embers of others' lives and documented them within her mind. And while the world was prone to omit them from memory once their light was snuffed from view. The arachnid wasn't so keen to do so. Even now, standing within the veil of twilight, she constructed images of their faces and put a name to every one of them. Valerna smiled as she sat on the floor, alone with nothing but the ghost of the past to keep her company. A sea of friends and enemies surrounded her as she wallowed within their shared fellowship. She beamed before lying on the floor, whispering their names before saying one final remark "Forgive me." The web spinner then slipped into a shallow slumber as she spent the night as she did any other, alone.

Dramon was flustered and enmeshed within her welcoming filigree. The spider could smell his crimson ichor from here, and it was mouthwatering. Fortunately for the human, she wouldn't surrender to her lesser inclinations. Valerna smirked as she witnessed his writhing. The host was caught in an internal scrabble, and by the end, she'd know to what degree of control he possessed. The impulses of the body were challenging to subjugate. Nevertheless, carousing in the pleasures of the temporal world wasn't discouraged by her people; quite the opposite. Expectedly, Dramon protested. The stiffening of his appendage wouldn't eluder the arachnid's detection. The hardening column pressing against Valerna's heavy, oversized chest made any concealment senseless. However, the stammering of his speech inferred an inevitable capitulation. How riveting. The predator bore witness to that tug-of-war of conflicting emotions. No doubt, such promiscuousness defied his religious dogma. There was a reason most holy books forewarned of women like her. She had a method to contort the wills of men around her spindly claws. Dramon's eyes communicated fervent reverence. The man looked at her full figure as one would a deity. The undying wayfarer ego puffed from such worship as the fireplace's crackling was the only noise to disturb the silence. Ultimately, the human acquiescence to the enticement. Valerna chortled, amused by how quick he was to throw himself onto her webbing with zero regards for his wellbeing. She imagined he considered himself in charge or fantasized he'd be the one to break her will. Silently, the guest rose and walked hunched over away from the man as she moved toward his room. Valerna waited by the threshold, her hands grabbing the edge of the doorway before looking back at Dramon. She loitered there, allowing him a nice look at her plump posterior before she belatedly replied. "I'd break you. However, thank you for verifying my suspicions. Sleep well. And should you rub one off, envision me and whisper my name. Who knows, perhaps later, I might bruise your hips and leave you a sweating husk of a man lying in our bodily stew. However, you don't rate such an honor. Not as you are now. The meat isn't tenderized and seasoned enough to stoke my appetite." She paused before sighing. "Thank you, Dramon. Not all humans are wicked." The Araneae added before slipping into the room and shutting the door behind her. There, she'd lie on the floor lest her weight breaks his bed. No doubt this turn of events might anger her host. Still, there was a chance it would only further fuel his lust and loyalty. Despite appearances, the giant wasn't one to give it up so easily. A lesson learned, she supposed.

The forlorn wanderer caught the glimmer in his eyes. Dramon introduced the precursors that foreshadowed his hunger to experience her flesh. How effortlessly the spider could spin her web and exhaust this mortal. That deep-seated hankering to dominate swelled within her bosom. Giants, by nature, were domineering, enticed by that timeless Darwinian tussle. Her host made the rejection of her lesser penchants all the more arduous. She could tell he enjoyed her mind as much as her body. A point that caused inner ambivalence as she scuffled in silence. Valerna lay on the ground, shuffling in such a way to better flair her posterior to entice him. She was playing with her food, curious how far she could prod the beast before he succumbed to his nature. Eventually, she would sit up; one hand supported her weight while the other arm slipped under her breast. The arachnids perky mounds pushed up, a coquettish gesture that wouldn't elude his grasp. Salaciously, that wet and hot oral muscle traced her lips as those piercing brown eyes focused on the quarry. The predator sensed sincerity within his offering to take his bed. However, she doubted the furniture could support her weight. Nonetheless, she remained thankful and chuckled from amusement. The pale beauty disregarded his apology. Valerna saw no benefit in beating a dead horse or dawdling on trivial details. Dramon had no way of conceptualizing her torment, so how could she fault him? The man's intent was unsullied, and it came from the heart. Nevertheless, she sensed that less wholesome aspirations might have spurred his kindness. She deliberated whether to bring that hypothesis to light or leave it in the dark. The voluptuous maiden remained still as the fire's flickering light unveiled her figure in sporadic bursts. However, she'd eventually crawl on all fours like a cat. Those massive breasts dangled and swayed hypnotically as the voyager inched closer to the reclined man. Once the distance had been closed, her hands seized the armrest as she slid herself up his body as her hefty chest rested on Dramon's lap. Valerna would stay close, taking in his scent as she relished the fusion of fear and attraction. "My, my. You reek of lust and concern. How...flattering." She purred into his ear as the hunter refused to remove herself from Dramon's personal bubble. "Your room? How chivalrous of you. Luckily for you, I find it rude to deprive you of the magnetism you've grown fond of. No, I would rather sleep here." Valerna added before running her right pointer claw up his chest and neck and ending by flicking her host nose. "I can imagine it has been some time since you've been this close to a woman. Tell me, would you give your throat to this spider? Would you fly into my web of your own accord? I'm curious about which would break first. The body or the spirit? Shall we find out?" She taunted before permitting her breasts to relax on his lap while those amber jewels peered into his soul. Valerna was testing him—Gauging Dramon's willpower. Providentially for him, they both stood to gain something, no matter the outcome. It made this game they've engaged in as enthralling as it was titillating.

Valerna understood that her words might appear gelid. However, she didn't wish to rope another victim within her webbing. Dramon was a tortured soul with a blighted past; the worst thing she could do was snuff out any prospect of redemption. No, the time they spent ought to suffice and serve as a memory they could cherish. The spider's mind wandered; she reminisced about those she left behind. How did time flow in her absence? Would they still be there waiting upon her reemergence? These two questions beset her heart the most. The giant had slipped between realms before, never of her own volition. Nevertheless, the outcome drastically varied. Valerna considered a slew of ethical dilemmas. Her mere appearance will create ripples, the consequences of which were impossible to perceive. Did she have the right to meddle in their world and timeline? An unsettling query that she mulled over too late. There was no stemming what she had done, and her presence implied additional interference was unavoidable. Still, maybe she could mitigate it. Dramon's little remark merited her focus. Indeed, he was just a puny man. Then again, Valerna was also just a speck herself. A frown settled across her remarkable profile as she cogitated on his comments. The arachnoid had been cursed with her condition, but there was a benefit it provided. She had lived many lives and had seen firsthand how the movement of a single grain of sand can alter the face of a beach, that the slightest of pushes can set off an incomprehensible and world-altering chain of events. So, given this truth, were they that small in the grand scheme of things? The web spinner shook her head and raised that hand in opposition. Once more, she prepared to sprinkle a liberal perspective over the somber statement. She didn't wish to leave things in such a sour state. Dramon did invite her into his abode, an act of kindness that rated appreciation. "Indubitably, you're just a puny man. However, am I not equally inconsequential? Throughout history, such specks have altered the trajectory of history—snapshots of time where the choices of the insignificant culminated in radical change. These icons of civilization were nobodies. They were just men and women, yet their existence's influence can't be denied. Lift your chin, tomorrow is a new day, and it will improve." Valerna purred while endowing Dramon with a warm smile. The giantess yawned as she stretched her sore muscles and lay on the floor. Those chestnut eyes looked up at the human while those pearly fangs clenched her bottom lip. The Araneae was obviously in a pensive stupor, and something was tormenting her. Luckily, the human needn't stew for long to be provided with an answer. "The loss of life is always a shame. Any soul, no matter how deplorable, can seek redemption. Death is finite, yet life is infinite in possibilities. I often ask myself the same questions. However, no satisfactory resolution ever materializes. It's too late to change their fate in my world. But I suspect the same can't be said for this reality. I can only pray that your kind can avert pursuing a similar fate. It's one thing to be born evil at heart. And a whole other matter to conquer your inclinations. See to it that you do the latter, as I have." The spider veered her focus back to that crackling fire as she sighed while her curvaceous figure remained still on the floor. "I'm no one—just an eternal voyager. Eventually, you will know release, and I will carry on within this prison. It is inescapable. Don't live your life trying to prove me wrong or win me over. Your time would be better spent showing your people that their path isn't correct. Although, I can say this. At least I won't be by your graveside when you pass. You'd think it would become routine. However, the sting never lessens. And I rather not be there when the final chapter of your story is penned. Sometimes, not knowing the ending of a book is best."

Valerna needn't be a savant to gauge the objection emanating from Dramon. The giantess wasn't daunted by his body language. However, her eyes instinctively swerved toward that arm's sudden jerking. The spider is quite familiar with ambivalence and all the forms it might assume. The universe was hostile; its antagonistic tendencies were indefatigable and ubiquitous in its presence. And throughout her indeterminable odyssey, she had fronted it without fail. Many a contender was pulverized 'neath her heel. However, she took no satisfaction in the extinguishing of life. Nonetheless, she only permitted them the distinction of besting her if merited. Valerna's intuition demonstrated fallible as Dramon made no such commitment to acrimony. And the outrage that did fester inside was likely a manifestation of deep-seated disdain. However, such anger seemed more directed internally, and the sudden movement represented this potential explanation. She'd disregard it and withhold from acting on impulse. The arachnid sighed while she bore the brunt of his staunch disposition. Predictably the man threw her previous utterance back at Valerna. Nevertheless, the web spinner didn't balk or revise her deportment. She remained utterly still, a hint that she anticipated such a reaction. In reality, she giant wasn't so perceptive. She was just desensitized and indifferent to the whole affair. Dramon likely beheld her as a pawn, a means to atone for yesteryear's drubbings. And if true, Valerna would aptly rebuke him if she became aware of this factoid. Whatever inspired his outburst was regarded as inconsequential within the voyager's eyes. Valerna hadn't entered his home to try and sway the man for making a poor decision. She had proved a route, and what Dramon did with that information was up to him. After all, such was the burden of free will. And humans possess the capacity to act out infinite sound and poor judgments. Unfortunately, they appeared susceptible to the latter and not the former. The pale beaut soughed once more, shrugging her shoulders as those brown eyes locked with her host. Dramon pleaded. If the spider was effortlessly swayed, she might have been soft-soaped by the solemnity of it all. Providentially for the human, the giant was quite adamant. There was no reason to throw away what impact he might have to trek alongside her. Dramon was a bit stereotypical and harbored the want to gallivant about and be a hero. Naturally, if pressed, he'd deny any such allegations. However, his words and actions could debunk any insistence to the contrary. Something that made her reply all the more empty. "So, you're a moral arbiter now? Why should I give you the reigns to dictate right or wrong? Based on what we've uncovered this evening, I wonder if you'd characterize yourself as qualified." She paused as those eyes reflected the fireplace's flame at the human. "I'll never understand why your kind needs to label everything as under your species' dominion. Human arrogance? As opposed to what, just arrogance? You're more than free to frolic about and sow kernels of forgiveness. I won't stop you. However, you'd find nothing but misery in following my road. Never mind, there isn't much you can do. I applaud your proactiveness. However, there is no guarantee any of your former connections will yield results. And it also assumes I'm unaware of how my departure will materialize. Ask yourself this, why would someone desperate to go home seek asylum within this cabin? Doesn't that seem foolish, given the more pressing concerns? I'll leave this world one way or another. It isn't a question of how, where, or why. But when. I wish to depart your abode come morning, not on some epic quest to find a dimensional rift. I desire to see what could have been. To learn what we lost or gained and contextualize your people's extinction in my homeworld. I've always wondered if it was for the better or for the worse. No matter how deplorable your world might be. There is at least one speck of wisdom I can glean from it. I have no love for interference. Well, no more than necessary, given the situation. I'm a voyager. But I'm also an observer. Do you wish to help? I can provide an easy solution. Prove your commitment, change yourself, and, by proxy, those nearby. Show me I'm wrong about your kind. Do that, and all of this was worth more than gold. Anything else, and our chanced meeting was purposeless."

The undying wayfarer wouldn't reprimand the man for reaching out. It was evident by the room's ambiance that Dramon needed to feel something. The spider could commune with his ailment. She also felt secluded from the world. However, unlike her host, there was no remedy to her predicament. That physical connection formed a bridge, a mode by which the two spirits might communicate. Those chestnut eyes wandered over to the point of contact, blinking, before following it to the human's face. Dramon had started this engagement with an air of suspicion. Nevertheless, somehow Valerna managed to whittle it away. The arachnid puffed at the man's taffy. She wasn't a monster, but she wasn't a saint either. Throughout her odyssey, the voyager had done much wrong. But she refused to tolerate prior misgivings and blunders to comprise her person. She'd learn from them and aspired to a higher calling. Perhaps she was doomed to meander across the globe without rest. If so, she could use this curse to leave behind kernels of influence that might lead to a better life for those that followed in her wake. Valerna tilted her head as a puzzled look formed across that stunning visage. So humanity's doctrine specified treating others as they wish to be treated? Did that suggest Dramon's people longed for a swift exit from this world? Doubtful, it was more likely that they were hypocrites that utilized these texts to contort others to their wills. Secretly, she approved, understanding that it was as necessary as unpleasant. Regardless, she'd keep such thoughts to herself as the spider lounged on her mental webbing. She threaded together a hypothesis and then analyzed Dramon's sudden chipper demeanor. Valerna did so silently, presenting no visible inkling of the inner working of her mind. Dramon's hospitality reared itself; the hermit offered what sustenance and drink he had amassed as a way to further bond with his visitor. Those brown eyes moved toward the direction of the kitchen or food storage room. Unfortunately, the man's generosity was misguided. Nonetheless, the gesticulation was very much appreciated. "I don't feast like most. I paralyze and liquefy my prey's organs and slurp the bodily soup. It may sound revolting. However, I assure you it's pretty scrumptious." The giant declared without a grain of mortification. Valerna shrugged her shoulders, took a deep breath, and then exhaled. She felt more at ease, enough that she even began spinning that lip piercing with her split tongue—one of the many idiosyncrasies she employed to pass the time. Without further delay, she'd place her hand over the contact they shared while those perforating orbs endeavored to meet Dramon's eyes. "Wise? I doubt it. Regarding my morality, I appreciate the compliment. However, I'm far from pure. I merely learned from my mistakes and the errors of others. Even now, I feel the urge of my hijacker. It tells me to devour you or egg you. I know, it's wicked. But that's what separates us from the beast. I don't let my lesser penchants control my actions. Instead, I mastered them. Maybe I was reborn into a monster after all? If correct, then there is much honor in conquering it." A subtle wink and nod. It was Valerna's way of communicating that his sinful nature wasn't something to be ashamed of but rather conquered. An admission that she, too, is beset by an egomaniacal heart. The Araneae shifted. Wiggling her bum, a frown formed on her pale face. She knew Dramon meant no offense; he only sought to aid her. However, those that followed her during this lonely journey often met a gruesome end. And there was another reason behind her discomfort. One she'd readily voice. "No. It would be best if you stayed here. Your time is more finite, and you have lots of work to do to improve not just yourself but the lives of those around you. But if you wish to help me out, how about this instead? The day will come when you'll be faced with a dilemma. A wink of time when you must consider placing a hardship on yourself to lighten the yoke of another. When that time invariably emerges. Return the kindness I have presented. And should you happen across another errant soul radiating a haze of depression. Please don't give up on them. The building of a better tomorrow is seldom massive strides. But the accumulation of a thousand baby steps. A stride so small, it may even be imperceptible." She concluded with a genuine smile.

The man's deportment had shifted to that of a fellow wallowing in a pensive stupor. The spider would wait patiently, understanding the importance of such ruminations. Valerna's remarks likely stung. Nevertheless, the fact this human circumvented the want to retaliate instinctively spoke magnitudes regarding his temperament. The game they were playing was a dangerous one. Thus far, they've avoided ongoing conflict, but another kerfuffle wasn't exceeding the realm of possibility. Regardless, the voyager swore to withhold the provoking of her host without justifiable provocation. Dramon was a wounded man. His spirit was overwhelmed by the crest of despondency. And behind those eyes was a gelidness that supplied believability regarding his account. On an initial inspection, the propensity for skepticism appeared rude. However, the man had already verified himself willing to sow duplicity. The arachnid remained hushed and still like the tranquil surface of a lake. That acute mind absorbed the detail as she mulled over the story. That story had a bit of irony, given his holier-than-thou standpoint on the aforementioned "beasts." Valerna had confronted the demons of her past already. Dramon was still in the process of coming to terms with his. How peculiar that such a journey awaited all, notwithstanding their circumstances. Still, she wouldn't present an over charitable hand lest she cheapens the strength he'll achieve by confronting the element of his past. The Araneae knew that an open heart could do more damage than a balled fist. The foreigner soughed, her eyes roaming to the warm fire while the human sought to tidy up his unhomely appearance. Dramon's walk through memory lane was an all too familiar tale. The fact the lad was alive alluded to a strong will to survive. However, survival doesn't equate to a merry existence. A different world, yet the same species appeared keen to traipse down the same evil path. An epiphany that did much to bolster her conviction that she handled his kind appropriately. A somber realization, given Valerna accepted that not all were beyond redemption. Individually, humanity was fine. However, once they congregate, the consequences are often catastrophic. No species was perfect. The giants weren't without blemishes in their history. Nevertheless, the difference wasn't the discord itself—more the frequency and intensity of it. Valerna came to terms with this certainty. She'd withhold from articulating it out loud, knowing one might be predisposed to employ it to rationalize the corruption ingrained within the essence of humanity. The web spinner was unperturbed by how that limb had been severed. They both understood that it was lopped off due to his fidelity. And the bandits were partly justified. Once he had finished spinning his linguistical web Valerna would supply one glimmer of hope. One that she hoped would flicker for sometime against the blackened backdrop of depression. "The heft of despair pulverizes many a fool. Far too often do we stew and sulk within the hand we're dealt. Pity and envy are two hideous aspects of our nature we must contest. Listen, you can see the mark I bear. However, if there is one thing I've learned from my incarceration, it is this. That one can take the negative energy and funnel it into something positive. You can't turn back the flow of time. Nevertheless, you can seek to leave the world slightly better than you made it. I can't promise this will bring you forgiveness. But it will allow those that follow to have a more leisurely journey. And that has to count for something." Whatever doubt the man may have harbored regarding Valerna's professed age might wane. For such a young body and face, an aged and wise spirit was trapped within that buxom frame. "It seems you have more in common with those beasts than you initially thought. Have you ever considered there is a reason for their attack? And if you could welcome an abomination like myself into your home. Perhaps an accord could be met? Not just with those alleged monsters but with the most significant threat of them all. The other humans you gainsay against?" She queried, confident her rejoinder would suffice.