[ P ] the space between

in the spider's web

Mama doesn't know she's outside. She is very proud of that fact. Her, sneaking past her mother's infallible guard! Granted, it probably has something to do with Senka's belief that she is napping after a lengthy explorative walk amongst the towering oaks that border the city, but Arachne is the furthest thing from tired. Coaxing open the window pane of her ground-level room had been easy enough, rolling over the sill and into the bushes even more so. Containing her self-satisfied giggles did not come quite as easily, but she managed to stifle her amusement for the sake of stealth.

Now that she's out here, she isn't quite certain what her next goal is. She knows that the grounds of their home are well-guarded—though she does not yet understand why—and trying to get anywhere near the property line would have her getting caught and grounded in record time. And truthfully, though she has a wild curiosity about the world around her, she has no desire to explore Rionna without Denya by her side; he's lean, but her brother is already taller than Arachne, bolstering her confidence when they're together. Without him, she's more cautious.

Low voices she can hear coming from around the corner are enough to pique the girl's interest, suddenly giving her a purpose. One of them is the smooth velvet rumble of her father's voice; she would know it anywhere. The other voice is male, and not one that she recognizes—though admittedly, her interactions with men have been extremely limited. Papa doesn't often welcome other males into their home—another thing she's too young to understand—with Uncle Roman being one of the few exceptions, albeit somewhat begrudgingly. The man in Papa's office with him, however, is most definitely not Uncle Ro.

Keeping flush alongside the wall of their home, Arachne slinks slowly around the perimeter, careful about where she places each paw. She has a hungry curiosity about her father, and she watches him often. She's noticed that despite his size, his footsteps rarely make a sound; oftentimes, he'll arrive in a room without her even noticing. Her burning aspiration to be like him means that Arachne watches, trying to emulate the way he moves. When she's being especially careful, as she is now, she very nearly manages to achieve silence, though she is not nearly as quick about it as Odysseus is.

By the time she's reached the ledge beneath the open office window, the soft clink of glasses and rumbling of goodbyes reach her ears. Desperately curious to see who the stranger is, Arachne hastily pushes herself up onto her hind paws to peer through the gently billowing curtains behind the broad back of her father, her forepaws landing on the windowsill. Unable to see past him, she leans in further and cranes to the side, just in time for her to simultaneously watch the door click shut behind the mysterious wolf and lose her balance, tumbling headfirst over the threshold of the window.

A surprised squeak escapes Arachne as she falls, landing belly-up in a graceless heap on the office floor, right beside her father's feet. Ohhhh crap. Chagrinned and nervous, she slowly lifts her eyes towards his face to gauge his reaction, her tail wagging submissively between her hind legs. Whilst she intrinsically knows that he would never hurt her, Odysseus is remarkably intimidating, especially when he's chastising someone—her, now, she's pretty sure—and she can't help the distressed thumping of her tail on the floor.

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He sat in his new office, basking in the satisfaction that it was his family name that secured them this new life of luxury. Across from his sat Ghost, his trusty right hand, one of the few he could depend on to act in his absence. The pale wolf had also benefited from Odysseus' rise to the top. Today, they shared a glass of bourbon, a celebration of sorts.

But, just as he always did, Ghost found a reason to depart, all too eager to return his solitude and his work. Odysseus let him go, not the least bit offended by the mans complete lack of warmth. Rising to his paws, he doesn't bother walking Ghost to the door and seeing him out, instead he waits, listening to the scrabbling of paws against stone behind him.

Denya wasn't nearly as capable of being as quiet as his sister, the boy was still too impatient. His son was a wrecking ball, rolling into anything and everything head on and unafraid. Arachne though, she was a bit more patient, a bit more methodical, a lot more like her mother.

Lingering where he was, Odysseus waited, and his patience is rewarded. With a startled squeal, his daughter plops unceremoniously onto the ground at his feet, having falling in to his office. She looks every bit of a guilty as she is and a dark brow lifts in response. He knows exactly what she was doing, but still he asks. "Where you spying on me?" He inquires, his silky voice faintly laced with disapproval. Odysseus had no intention of hiding who he was to his children, but he wasn't going to soil their childhood with the blood that stained his hands. They would learn in time. And before then? He intended to shield them from the violence he craved.

"speech"

eat my way into perdition
to taste you

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in the spider's web

The sharp stare, a shock of purple, meets her gaze from within the stern planes of her father's face. Arachne's tail thumps a little harder, and she squirms beneath the weight of those eyes. "No!" she protests quickly—far too quickly for one being honest, but she lacks the skillset for lying on the spot. Unable to lay splayed on the floor for a second longer, she flips onto her belly and shimmies to her feet, scooting closer to the towering male. "I was just, um, looking for you," Arachne insists, though that fails to explain what she was doing outside of the window rather than the door.

The pup sniffs a few times, her nose lifting towards the surface of her father's desk as she catches a whiff of the lingering acrid smell there. Following the source, Arachne's forepaws hit the surface of the desk, and she sniffs cautiously at the rim of the closer glass before her nose wrinkles unpleasantly and she draws back, her sharp gaze landing on the other, abandoned cup. "Who were you talking to, Papa?" she asks, peering at the closed door across the room and then slinking her eyes back up to Odysseus expectantly.

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Her denial is quick, too quick, and her voice shrill with a lie. Odysseus only arches a brow. Unlike her brother who stood in quiet defiance, she offer excuses. I was just, um, looking for you. "Is that so?" The tone of his voice suggested that he didn't believe her one bit. Both of his pups were obnoxiously curious, always getting into places they shouldn't, always eager to listen to a conversation not meant for their young ears. One day, he would give them both the information they sought, he would bring them into the fold and pass the mantle on. But today was not that day.

Jumping her paws, his daughter didn't waste much time in shifting the conversation. With a quivering dark noses, she follows it up to his desk, her small paws scrabbling against the edge as she sniffs at the glass still sitting there. Her nose wrinkles at the sharp scent of booze and he smiles, amused. Then she's right back to sticking her nose where it didn't belong. "Someone from work." That was a lot easier to explain than what Ghost actually did for him. "His name is Ghost." No one knew the white wolfs real name and Odysseus was fine with that, it didn't pertain to their work in the slightest.

With gentle ushering, he would lead her away from his desk, herding her out of his study and into the hall. "Should we go outside?" He had learned quickly that the best way to distract his kids from one thing was to offering something more exciting. It had been a blessing that both his parents were solid role models, it gave him something of a foundation on how to deal with his own pups, especially when Denya was seeming to turn out exactly like him...

"speech"

eat my way into perdition
to taste you

code // art