[ P ] too young to be wise

She shouldn't be here. She knows it, but it does nothing to deter her. Arachne doesn't doubt that if it had been light out, she would have been seen and stopped quite quickly for her curiosity, but the earthen and smoke blend of her fur keeps her well-hidden in the shadows, and she's quiet. Careful. The stone structure is a monument towering above her, so tall she has to crane her neck to see the top, and the low rumble of voices and combat echoes from within, drawing her in like a fly to honey. She never has been good at leaving well enough alone.

The crumbling walls yield some narrow crevices that are just enough space for her to slip through, engulfing her in complete darkness. Rows and rows of stone seats line the walls, all but some of the innermost ones completely empty, so she ascends as quietly as she can, her belly close to the floor. A crumbling pillar ends up serving as Arachne's hiding place against the outer wall, her eyes falling to the sandy pit in the center of the space, where a few wolves she assumes to be soldiers are fighting. Her chin rests on the embellished base of the pillar, ears perked attentively upon the crown of her head as she studies the scene before her with avid curiosity.

Her sense of adventure had brought her here, the desire to follow her wanderlust an impossible thing to ignore. She holds no great attachment to Rionnach, and the lands across the water were too great a temptation for her; Arachne will not simply be satisfied by stories. She wants to see these foreign lands for herself, be at the pinnacle of discovery, trailblaze her way to a life worth living. She won't get any of that by just sitting on the sidelines, though she's sure Denya would have preferred it. He should know better than to try putting her on a leash.

come into my parlor
said the spider to the fly
i have a little something here

code // art

Blood coats his ebony maw, glistening against the light of the moon. The sweat of his uncontested double rounds of training was slowly starting to wick away as he made his way from an infirmary where he insisted he was unscathed and didnt require medical attention—he'd allowed his opponents the ability to split his skin open, one had aimed for the crease between his neck and shoulder, the other found purchase along his jaw. Both were welcomed sensations, and still a wrong move on his opponents. He'd left them both buried face down in the dirt, though neither were injured to the point of broken bones—they couldn't be left useless, that wasn't the point behind training.

While he's reveling in the sting of the wounds he keeps opening himself as he watches from an above balcony, a smaller, obsidian woman approaches him, whispering in his ear. Instantly, he is intrigued and on his feet as the woman already slithers back into the dark, Arkaideus following her scent until he's reached what he's been promised.

The same, little woman cloaked in obsidian and the dark of the night was lingering nearby, accompanied by not one but two others by the time Arkaideus steps into the light of moon. The crone, who approached him first, has partnered with another, larger figure that has corraled their unknown visitor into the light with Kaide.

A flicker of excitement flashes across his face as a ivories beam against the stark contrast of his black mask. His body hovers over the newfound creature, swathed in earthen hues and darkened ash. Mismatched hues wash over in as he inspects the visitor. "Rescued from the dark, praise be." His voice is unusually calm, it even sends a chill down the back of Arkaideus. He's ready to step closer to her, to properly inhale the scent he can't quite place on her—something of citrus, sweet—until the Obsidian Crone that warned him of their lurker comes to whisper in his ear. "She is a dark omen, a woman of darkness, be wary, The Crone is watching a daughter on this night".

Kaide beams with utter delight the moment his own lady of the dark slinks back into her shadow, leaving the visitor and the second paw that drew her out of the hideout. Another Crone in his company, a sign of his darkened days ahead, or a blessing of shadows to guide him even in the dark? Once more his eyes light up, he's taken a step closer towards his hidden little gem.

DIVINE

justice

code © koi

art © eightysichs

There is no running once she's spotted. It hasn't been nearly long enough—she's learned nothing about this place or its people or what they fight for. Arachne is a sponge, hungry for knowledge and thirsty for experience. She wants to know everything about this world beyond the borders of her own. It's a woman's voice that pulls her from the dark, her tone enough to send a shiver rippling down her spine; she spins, pivoting to face the wolf who may as well be a shadow. She leaves her with an obvious guard, who Arachne side-eyes warily, but she doesn't say anything, having quickly figured out that he isn't the one to beg to for mercy.

She knows the keeper of her fate the second she sees him. Bleeding like ink and shadow through the darkness, the faint scent of iron clings to him, and he stands as all and imposing as her father. "Rescued from the dark, praise be." Arachne blinks, her head tilting slightly, neat ears tipping towards him. She can't quite tell if the words were intended for her—and if they were, she doesn't know what he means by them. The words may be in her language, but they're still foreign to her.

Her gaze is astute, flicking between the male's masked face and the woman who slinks to his side like water to whisper something in his ear. A furrow twitches her brows together when he grins, his ice and gold gaze lighting up like Arachne's presence here is a fucking gift. He steps closer, and she refuses to yield, ignoring the shiver of uncertainty that races up her spine as her head tips up to peer at him, her haunches sinking to the floor rather than retreating. She feels as though she's being tested, somehow, but this game is as foreign to her as these wolves are, so she waits with bated breath, holding all her cards close to her chest.

come into my parlor
said the spider to the fly
i have a little something here

code // art

He hums with absolute delight at her; she hasn't ran, hasn't fought, hasn't cried or begged for a mercy he wouldn't entertain her either anyhow. She sits, and she keeps her eyes on him. Her beautiful, olive green hues sparkling against her mask and up at him with flecks of the moon's light hitting them just so—he could almost pluck them out, and set them on the highest mountain to watch them glimmer in the moonlight whenever he pleased. The thought causes the grin on his lips to spread wider, his hellfire and obsidian gaze still watching her as he dismisses the extra paw behind her, only paying mind to the visitor.

"Do you have a name?" he croons lowly, paws stepping to the side of her, crown tipping to better allow himself the ability to look her over as he circles the woman before him.

He does not wait for an answer, his paws treading close to her before making one last circle. "Do you know where you are?" He hums again after inhaling the air around her, near her. The sweetness in her scent makes his insides buzz with a desire to consume her, hoard her, keep her tucked away for only his purposes. But, he has been warned about bringing home strangers—keep them away until he's made them unravel their secrets. Then, he can use them accordingly. And he so desperately wants to unravel this one and whatever secrets she may be harboring.

He leans down to an ear as he lingers beside her. "When you share your name, I can guide you toward a better view—" Of the arena, of course. He'll get her closer to the bodies training, to the ones bettering themselves in efforts to continuing the service to the polaris and the whole of Ildhrune. Eventually, eventually he would do that—if she earned such a privilege.

DIVINE

justice

code © koi

art © eightysichs

The low rumble in his throat isn't a growl; he seems pleased by her inaction, her lack of desperation. Arachne can see the predator in his smile, the wild glint in his eye something that calls to the untamed creature in her. She doesn't dare move as he prowls closer, but she watches him with her eyes, her head tipping to the side to watch the shadow of his presence creep behind her. "Do you have a name?" Peering up at where he's paused next to her, her lips part—but he's moving again before she can so much as release a breath of air, his close proximity making her skin buzz like a livewire.

"Do you know where you are?" Arachne shakes her head, but despite her unknowing, despite the fact that she so clearly doesn't belong here, nothing about her seems afraid. Cautious and attentive, yes, but there's no fear in her—only curiosity. She'll fight tooth and claw to defend herself if she must, but she doesn't think her life is in danger. Not yet, anyway.

His breath coasting over her ear sends a shiver rippling down her spine, her gaze finally breaking away from him to drift down to the arena. "I can guide you toward a better view..." "Of what?" she murmurs at last, too acutely aware of the body beside her to truly be paying attention to the gladiators far below. Her upbringing has made her smart, made her cautious—and she doesn't know if he's offering a front-row seat to the arena, or if "better view" is a euphemism for "jail cell." Do they have cells here? Fuck, she doesn't want to find out. "Arachne," she answers after a beat. "My name is Arachne."

come into my parlor
said the spider to the fly
i have a little something here

code // art

She gives a shake of her head in response to his first question, a slight quirk of his brow responds to her answer. She was within the confines of the Coliseum, a trademark of the Praetorian Guard, a sacred right of passage for those growing their devotion to protecting Ildhrune and the devout population. "Hmmm" he gives an exhale, sorting out the possibilities of who this young woman is and where she came from. He is already suspicious of her, catching her lingering in the dark on her own—when visitors are rarely allowed to roam as it is. Her being unaware of where they are was enough to guide him towards believing she was certainly not someone who's been accustomed to such a feature of Calais.

Her name seems just as alluring as the mystery of the woman herself. He tests it out on his own tongue, "Arachne" his voice is a low, smooth rumble that reverberates up from his chest. He uses the test of her name as a buffer to decide his next move, to allow him a moment of contemplation.

"Arachne," he coos her name, as if it already belongs to him. His paws stepping forward, his fur bristles alongside her own as he moves away from her. He could save them both the strenuous, time consuming act of prying questions from her and simply break her open right now, devour every last drop of any secrets that may seep from her lips. But he craves his new fascination, so much so that he is changing his own protocol—he will open her eyes tonight if they are not already, he will wrap the proverbial chains around her and tighten them to see if she screams or withstands the weight of the divine.
"You should witness the divine grace that those within the Coliseum are blessed with. He ignores his suspicions about the woman, ignores the signs of the ignorance that may be harbored within her. Perhaps she was a blessing, a gift from the stars, a breath of reprieve and a reward for his devotion thus far—perhaps she was his to mold and break as he saw fit, or perhaps she was a test, but she was with him on this night for a reason, this much he knew to be true.

He soon arrives to a wide open corridor, the cracked concrete turning to sand covered stone that others either dance in spar on or fall to their knees on from a blow. Before he allows himself to get comfortable, he circles her, as if corraling her in, guiding her to a spot in the corridor where he prompts her to sit. "Please, sit Arachne." he's decided already he wants her name, wants to hear it from only his lips.
"The defender of the stars above, the keepers of true devotion, they have bound their lives to maintaining what is written in the stars, by the stars—" he gestures towards the wolves in the center of the Coliseum, sharing and spilling blood in training. He waits for her to sit, his body being held back by only ounce of restraint as he refrains from pressing into her to push her to sit.

DIVINE

justice

code © koi

art © eightysichs