@nymfernal / kindness.

lost things tend to find their way into her webs. she could not tell which instinct of her's it is that has her drawing them into a cocoon, silken & shining in the moonlight; arachne does not know if it was one that came with being a spider, or one that, when mortal, would have fit that of a homemaker, walls made to be protective of all within. never got to find out, did she? but that's okay — she can be the spider. scurry about, choose what stays entangled to rot within. this definitely could not ; it is multi-colored, an accessory usually 'round thigh. lost, spider had seen from perch up high, in a scuffle . perhaps selfishly she hadn't called out : silly thing is always in such a rush, likely would not have had time for her anyway. instead of placing it within sticky webs, it is brought back to home chosen.

lost things usually have people searching for them. it doesn't happen the night following, or the one after, or after that. it takes time for melinoë to show back up. in it, she picks her finest silks, the most vibrant of them all. the best for her most loyal costumer — friend? she's not so certain . . . if not here, just where were the nights taking her? arachne knows, & it had played on her heart, tugged in time with the strands of silk being woven together. it is dark inside the cocoon, drawn over her own eyes so she does not look too harshly upon the other when finally, she appears. arachne presents it to her. her smile is shining, just like the webs.