sifting through ruins

Spider hums their agreement. “it does. and of who came before us, too.” how many paws have traversed the very land on which they sit? there likely isn’t a patch of earth someone hasn’t already tread upon. Spider can almost feel them, the legion of ghosts stretching impossibly far, each carrying a small remnant of the past. they, too, must’ve faced hardships - and yet they’d persevered, had laid the foundations of present-day Boreas. how had they found the strength?

Spider is quiet for several beats, the silence heavy but thoughtful, their eyes trained on the horizon. they feel lighter than they have in months. “your home is beautiful,” they murmur finally. “thank you for bringing me here.” they turn their gaze on Strai, smiling over the rim of their mug. “seems rather fitting you’d live here, you know. i know you’ll deny it, but you’ve always had this ‘gristled hero’ thing about you.” they giggle, bumping shoulders. “i’m afraid it rather fits your aesthetic.” after all the grief, it feels nice to joke, to be careless and silly.

"Araneae Fatalis"