Chapter Text
A strange feeling had settled in her non-existent stomach. Unease, anxiety, dread. Something very bad was going to happen - she could feel it, a foreboding tension that refused to leave her, no matter how much she tried to calm herself. She had curled up in the flower field in the Cradle, trying to simply let the feeling pass - she was just feeling so irrational because of that spider. Whatever this was, it would leave eventually.
But it didn't. Not after an hour, not after half a day, not after a full day. She couldn't shake that feeling, that something terrible was going on, something she didn't want to be a reality. No matter how long she stayed in the Cradle, hiding in the flowers, listening to Mother's gentle heartbeats, it did not disappear. If anything, it kept getting worse and worse.
She finally rose after what felt like an eternity, pulling her pin from the ground, sheathing it as she leapt from her bed of flowers.
There is someone she is sure could make her feel better, could soothe her unsettled self, so with nothing else to do, she makes her way to where they would be. They could always make her feel better, no matter what was bothering her.
She steps through the gilded halls of the Citadel, once gleaming in a royal gold, now faded, rusted, paint chipping off to reveal the boring old steel of the structures below. The lifeless bugs don't stir as she walks, though she can see the threads tying them to Mother, ready to rise and strike should the need arise.
She stumbles into the Grand Bellway, ignoring the strange calls coming from a locked section of the Choral Chambers. The bellway remains untouched, closed down for a very long time now. The spider hadn't arrived in the Citadel yet, no doubt still struggling on her climb upwards. She had watched her struggles, her victories, her close calls.
With a swift motion, she climbs into the tunnels above, a hidden passage to a long forgotten part of the gleaming city above, left to rot away with its caretaker. Her steps slow as sounds echo through the caverns, impossibly loud in the empty space. She struggles to discern them.
It suddenly hits her, and she breaks into a sprint, silk heart violently thumping in her chest as she leaps downwards into the cave system below.
The lack of music being played.
The clash of weapons, steel on steel.
The cries, the shouts, the taunts.
Familiar voices, both of them.
She moves through the worn route, one that hasn't been walked by anyone but her in many years. The rocks tremble underneath her as she runs to that forgotten piece of the Citadel.
The sound of combat grows louder.
She barely registers as she steps into the lift, letting it take her down to the involuntary abode of her sibling. She almost stumbles when the door opens, panic coursing through every strand of silk in her body.
She couldn't let this happen. She couldn't...
Is this why she's had that feeling all this time? She remembers her initial worries of if the spider took the backdoor towards the Citadel, but she had convinced herself that she would be following the main path all pilgrims took. She remembers thinking about how silly she was, at the thought that the spider would even be able to find this downtrodden path that no other walked. Did the idea fester in her mind, like a warning of what could potentially happen?
There was absolutely zero doubt in her mind that the spider could defeat her sibling. They are so skilled, so strong, but... she knew the spider was stronger. She knew the spider would make it to the capital, no matter what path she took, and perhaps even easily at that. She'd felt her strikes, she knows of her strength.
She stumbles into the main room of the Exhaust Organ, crying out for the fighters to stop, but she is too late. The scene before her roots her in place, hands covering her mouth.
The spider freezes in the middle of her strike, a rough mimicry of her sibling's parry, needle piercing their silken shell.
Her sibling's face is distorted with pain, but most importantly, shock. Like they weren't expecting to see her here.
The Weaver-spawn, in what looks like a moment of panic of her own, pulls the weapon from her sibling's form, one that was barely holding together as is. They drop to the ground, unraveling at an alarming rate.
She dashes forward, pushing the bug in red to the side with little care for her, instead kneeling next to her sibling, who was convulsing, soon to vanish forever as their body is unable to heal the injury or sustain itself anymore. Black threads spread apart, their form becoming less and less stable by the second. They couldn't speak, they couldn't cry out, they just look at her with horror in their eyes.
In a moment of desperation, she acts.
Her hands tightly grip the silk holding together the center of her form, and she tears. She rips her chest open, strands of silk spreading apart as pain courses through her body. She ignores it, and grasps the fading threads of her sibling as they continue to resemble themself less and less.
With a tremble, she pulls the threads towards her own body, and hastily connects them to her own white silk that she'd just torn apart, entwining them, weaving them together into one mismatched pattern.
What little remains of her sibling manages to blink at her slowly, watching as she connected the both of them. She works their silk into her own, two parts becoming one.
She couldn't let them vanish without a trace. She couldn't leave them to die this agonizing death, as their worst fear becomes a reality.
She spins their silk around the spool that acts as the center of her main body, the stabilizing part around which all of her other silk is wrapped. Their own spool was heavily fractured, damaged beyond repair. It shouldn't be visible, but as time passed, the silk thinned, and she began being able to see their very own core, vulnerable.
The mask clatters to the ground as the face has completely destabilized, barely resembling its old shape anymore.
She keeps weaving. She doesn't want to let go. Each strand of black is paired with one of white, connected into one.
Strange sensations spread through her silken nerves as their threads entwine, as if she suddenly had two sets of them. It overwhelms her, making her shaking worse, blurring her vision. Her world spins, just as she had spun her sibling's silk. If Mother wasn't going to save them, she would.
And then she passes out.
---
She - They - awake with a start.
The old, rusty floor beneath her is surprisingly warm. She groans as she sits up, trying to force her eyes open. They don't want to, though. They would much rather sleep for an eternity.
Willing her body to move, she blindly pats the nearby area for her pin, though instead she finds soft bedding and a familiar shape. She picks up the shape, and they feel the edges, before instinctively bringing it up to their face. She forces the movement to pause, a question spiraling in her mind.
Why would I want to put this on?
It's my mask. It belongs on my face.
I don't have...
Both thoughts trail off when they hear the other.
Their silk heart beats fast and hard. She doesn't move it, but a hand finds its way to their chest anyways, grasping at the threads. They miss a frayed tangle of cloth there. She grips the bedding beneath her tightly.
W-What's happening?
Since when do I have a silk heart?
Who said that?
Why is there--
The voices overlap, thoughts becoming a cluttered mess as they patted themself down. It's her body. It isn't theirs. And yet, something about it was wrong.
The mirror. Behind the curtains.
She takes shaky steps towards the glass pane, guided by something unseen. She stares at her reflection.
It's her. It's them.
Lace prods at the black silk along her chest, entwined with her own white threads in messy, mismatched patterns. It spins along much of her body - about a third of her head is a mix of tangled white and black threads, and her entire chest and right arm also have an abundance of the silk that isn't her own.
They bring back some vague recollection of what happened before they woke up earlier. She remembers her trembling hands and the strands that she pulled towards herself. They remember the fading of everything around them, and something happening to their strings.
There is an intense familiarity in this foreign silk, and Lace places a hand on the side of the mirror as she continues to inspect every part of her reflection.
Then this voice, is it...
Sister?
A beat of silence passes.
How did we end up like this?
A pang of guilt pricks at Lace's heart. Phantom, of course, feels it too.
You were falling apart, and I...
The memory of her tearing apart the silk on her chest is forced to the forefront of her mind. Her fingers grabbing onto black silk, pulling it to her own body, shakily weaving it together with her own. The emotions she felt at the moment come back - fear, anguish, hopelessness, desperation.
Phantom sees hands not their own connect black silk to white silk, through eyes that aren't theirs, either. The foreign feelings of the moment wash over them like a wave, threatening to pull them along into the despair Lace must've felt.
I'm so sorry, Phantom. I made things even worse for us - for you.
Her right hand reaches up to their face, wiping away the silken tears brought on by Lace's sorrow.
Please don't cry, sister. You made a split second decision while in emotional turmoil.
A sigh.
This situation might be... less than ideal, but I am not upset with you, Lace.
There's comfort in the words spoken in their shared mind. Lace doesn't respond, letting her tears fall freely as the gravity of the situation really settles in.
They were one now. She doesn't know what she was thinking when she bound their silk to her own spool, but... this certainly wasn't what she had expected to happen. Or what she wanted to happen.
The presence in a foreign body is strange, to say the least. To not see your own reflection, but that of another in your place. Phantom doesn't have the right words to describe the emotions they are experiencing.
After simply standing there for much longer than they should have, they speak up again.
My mask, Lace. Do you have anywhere to put it?
The voice of her sibling pulls her from her trance, and she looks at the object in her left hand.
I... I don't think-- She suddenly stops, interrupting her own thoughts. Wait, I have an idea.
With careful motions, she plucks one thick strand of white silk from her body, and threads it through the mask, between the two eye holes, and then ties the two ends behind her head after properly placing the mask upon it.
As a demonstration of sorts, she pulls it down and the strand in the back up, firmly placing her sibling's mask over her face.
Look, it works!
Clever - and it is secured well. Thank you.
She giggles out loud at her sibling's compliment, and pushes the mask back up and turns away from the mirror.
We should probably find our weapons before anything sneaks up on us.
I think I saw your pin near the steps up to the Organ. Not sure where my longpin disappeared to, though.
With quick steps, Lace approaches the place Phantom directed her to, and sure enough, her pin lays there. Moreover, though, on the bench of the instrument itself, she spots the longpin, and the remnants of Phantom's dress - only the frayed tailskirt was left. Someone must've placed it there deliberately.
Did the half-Weaver...?
I guess so. Nobody else was here.
With nowhere else to put it, Lace picks up the remnants of Phantom's dress, and ties the tailskirt piece around her shoulders like a cloak. She then takes and holds the weapons in one hand each, looking towards the exit of the Exhaust Organ.
She feels the tremble in her limbs, one that was not her own.
Should we?
I don't see what's stopping us, Phantom.
I'm not supposed to go out there.
Oh, don't be a spoilsport! There's no way Mother knows what happened. She's too busy paying attention to that stupid spider, anyways.
Without further input, Lace takes swift steps towards the elevator that leads up to the Grand Bellway. She suddenly stops at the door into the lift, not of her own will, lingers there for several seconds, before finally thawing out and stepping into the contraption, looking up.
It's been... a long time.
Not much has changed, aside from maybe all the lifeless bugs strewn about. And the gold slowly giving way to rust.
Hm.
Lace sees the footsteps from the spider she'd just complained about, leading off into the corridor.
Perhaps we should follow her.
You want to fight her again or something?
I just don't think going up to Mother like this will be a good idea.
There's a moment of silence as discomfort spreads through their body.
I don't... I wouldn't want her to get mad at you, or worse. I don't think she'll take well to my presence.
Lace sighs. Well, I suppose you might be right...
She puts a finger to her chin, then nods.
Alright, let's track this spider, then.