There’s that ringing feeling again as if a bell has been struck, unheard but echoing in her core, leaving her stunned, blinking into Nyrun’s chest and layering horrors upon panic as she realizes she’s been hyperventilating into her tear-soaked tank top. Its neckline stretched, and a shame that overpowers the terror of reliving the night in the root cellar fills her, seeing the smear of her mascara along the top of Nyrun’s breast. Absolutely pathetic; you’ve really done it. Now she knows you are certifiable. 

Nyrun walks her backward to the bench and sits down with her, their hold on each other unbroken, but each loosening their grip enough that the other could free herself if she chose to. Moira braces for what she is sure will be as hasty an exit as such a gentle soul could politely make. Sensing her tension, that gentle soul freezes, fearing she may have broken her connection with the Veil, and glances down to confirm she is still shaped like the lie she wears for others. Two legs, two arms, skin; yes, good. She doesn’t know. How would she? 

For good measure, she verifies she still has a proper tongue in her mouth, running it over her teeth carefully, avoiding snagging it on the pointier ones. The action, combined with the stress-fueled vibrations of the pretty redhead she still hadn’t managed to let go of, caused a slow drip of venom from them. Her stomach made one of those weird rumbling sounds she hadn’t gotten used to. What are you doing, you monster? 

“Stay here, I’ll only be a moment,” she says so softly it’s barely a whisper while slowly withdrawing her hold. The memories she’s been wanting for so long are slow to emerge, but each one brings a few more, gathering into a brood she will foster once she’s seen to Moira. This was a more pressing matter to attend to–even now, as her panic ebbs, the fear emanating from her would be enough to draw the types of trouble Nyrun didn’t want to deal with in her current state. She needed to soothe her as much as she could, as quickly as possible. Turning swiftly, she leaves the room, shutting the door behind her.

Running the back of her wrist and then her arm across her eyes, she steps up to the painting and holds out the other hand. “I’m sorry, young lady. Let’s find you a better spot.” The spider obliges, and together, they leave through the side door to the small wooden framed bin corral. “Lots of flies around here for you. A fine place for your lovely web,” she says, reaching up to a cross beam to let her passenger off. “Many more moons to you.” 

On the way back to the exam room, she stops to trail a finger around the inside of the painting’s frame, removing all traces of the little one’s work. Should she do the same to herself for Moira? Disappear to prevent the inevitable? She’d never had a friend, let alone one of the Obvious, but she’d read quite a number of their books in Tuor’s library and wagered they had strong feelings against decisions being made for them. Her morning tea leaves had warned about being impulsive today. Maybe she didn’t have to give up the warmth of being close to Moira. 

One of her freshly returned memories surfaces. Tuor lounging on a pile of pillows in front of the fireplace draped in the velvet robe she liked because it matched the deceptively soft setae banding Nyrun’s eight legs in black and white. Having recently molted and growing too large to be carried around on her shoulder, Tuor had begun spending more time resting on her cushions, giving her opportunities to lay with her, listening to her read aloud. 

“...Till the gossamer thread you fling catch somewhere, O my soul,” she remembers her favorite poem in Tuor’s fervent lilt and the affectionate scratches of her long, glossy dark red nails. 

She decides she will wait, think it through, figure out how to unravel the inevitable and weave it into a bridge between them. A noiseless patient patient spider, indeed.

Inside the exam room, Moira was still sitting on the edge of the bench, elbows on her thighs, face buried in her hands. She kneels in front of her, but neither makes eye contact. “I found her and relocated her. She won’t come back.”

Moira nodded, sniffling. “Thank you. I’m sorry.”

“Hey, you don’t have anything to apologize for. Seems like a pretty reasonable fear after what you experienced. No one could blame you.”

Moira wipes under her eyes and sniffles again at the smudge of Soft Mink 05 liner left behind. “I’m a mess and wasting your time with my unhinged behavior and showing you my worst and,” she stops at the gentle tug on one of the loose curls bobbing along in agreement with her self-evaluation. 

Filament, filament, filament. Look Mr. Whitman—I am launching it forth. “I’d like to give you a few of my secrets. That is if you want them?”

Moira finally looked at her, her big brown eyes red from crying but distracted now. “What?”

“I’d never ask someone I didn’t care about. They’re my secrets, you know, and once I say them out loud, they won’t be mine anymore. I’d like them to be our secrets, but you could decide to give them away–”

“I would never!” Moira interrupts this time.

Nyrun nods, “I’m glad to hear it.”

There’s a light rapping on the door as Haewon announces she is coming in. “Is everything okay? Did someone get hurt?” she asks, arching one brow after taking them in.

“I, I tripped. I’m okay now!” Moira says, and Nyrun hesitantly nods.

Haewon nods, more to her internal dialogue, and begins a breathless stream—“Okay, so first, I’m glad you’re alright. Especially after you turned your ankle not three days ago. Did I tell you this afternoon’s only appointment called to reschedule? Jasper is feeling a little down; he was really looking forward to seeing Boogie at his check-up, plus with the babies leaving–you know how he is. I was wondering if maybe it would be good to keep them for another night? The two of us can handle them, and Char’s coming in later for the big gal recouping in the back. Why don’t you limp over to your place and get some rest? Maybe Ms Tuor will help?”

Nyrun blinked a few times, looking for any trace of magical suggestion lingering around the doorway, but found nothing in the room besides the expectant face of the silver-tongued diviner and a swell of heat rippling from the tiny redhead next to her. “Wait, you hurt your ankle?” she asked, reaching down to inspect them but stopping, fingers rearing back meekly. She flexes them a few times, unable to decide whether touching is okay.

“It’s fine, I am fine!” Moira insists to both of their questions.

“I’d like to continue our discussion in private,” Nyrun started, looking to Moira and then towards the door to include Haewon, “if you think Jasper wants to be on baby watch for a bit longer?”

Haewon grins, “He will be thrilled! It’s like his favorite thing in the world. Plus, tonight is our BFF movie night, so we’ll both be around.”

Standing up, Moira does her best to return to her professional mode. “I want to check on Jasper first. I won’t be long,” she says, scooting around Haewon and down the hallway so abruptly neither has a chance to say anything.

“Ms Tuor, I’m sorry about earlier. He’s just protective, you know?” Haewon begins, taking the opportunity to apologize.

Nyrun held up her hand to stop her. “It’d be deeply concerning if a wildling wasn’t. And I’m glad he’s around. With all the negative emotions generated here today, I would not be surprised if we’ve attracted some fear eaters. Hopefully, his presence is enough of a ward.”

Haewon squinted, “No offense, but you’re not a fear eater? I can’t tell your kinship, and I’d heard Tuor was associated with a powerful one, and I made some assumptions. My apologies.”

“No, I’m not, but Tuor’s is protected by a kikamora. I’ve no kin, only kith—Tuor and Kika.”

“A kikamora, here in Melitown?” Haewon’s eyes widened. “How? Wait, no, never mind, this is not my business. I am not trying to be on her radar.”

Nyrun nodded, “She’s very settled at the shop and in her routine. She wouldn’t normally travel this far.” Thinking aloud, she adds, “Your wildling friend’s presence seems to be keeping the kobaloi and the more ominous threats away, but maybe I should ask her to mark Moira’s house…”

“Invite a kikamora to Moira’s home? Where she sleeps?” she balks.

“Is everyone powerful wicked?” Nyrun returned, and Haewon’s cheeks flushed. “The wilding… Jasper?” She continues when Haewon confirms, “How do I convince him I’m only a threat to those who would harm her?”

A tremendous luminous hand grasps the door frame high above Haewon’s head as Jasper ducks into the room, shimmering out of his veiled form after clearing the doorway. His antlers poke through his reddish-brown hair, now freed from his usual ponytail; and his scrubs replaced with a linen chiton hitting what would be knee length if not for his elk legs. He stood tall, filling the space and looking down at Nyrun. 

“I’m listening.”

Image notes: Tailpiece for a magazine article featuring a spiderweb on a blooming branch, unknown illustrator, signed M.L., Outing, 1890