having it out

Spider leaves the conversation with Bas tired, wrung-out and bristling with fury. they stalk through the Col with loud, heavy steps, uncaring who they disturb, uncaring if she hears them coming. she probably expected, has maybe even been holed up in her den waiting for Spider so she can rub her new conquest in their face. Spider marches up to Ignita’s den, rapping impatiently on the entrance - and almost gag on the pervasive mix of scents clinging to every surface. Bas. he coats every damn inch of this place, entangled so thoroughly in Ignata’s scent it’s hard to tell where hers ends and his begin. it only adds another log to the pyre of Spider’s wraith. when they speak it’s cold and clear, if a little frayed about the edges. “my Dad?!”

"Speech"