With careful movements, she lifted the dress up. She had gotten much better at keeping her fingers from cutting things that she didn’t intend to cut, but they were still sharp. Accidentally ruining the dress…
Eva shook her head. Looking at the dress closer, Eva doubted she would be able to so much as snap a single thread. After giving it a small tug, she decided that it was definitely made out of Arachne’s silk.
And it was small.
Holding it up in front of her, Eva found that it would barely reach her mid-thigh.
Arachne was a large woman. Taller than Eva even after swapping her legs out–though Eva was quite certain that she had shrunk back to her normal height since then. The bust would be too tight on the demon, and the waist as well in all likelihood.
In fact, holding it up against herself, Eva had the distinct impression that it was not made for Arachne. That feeling was only compounded by the fact that Arachne had never worn clothes as far as Eva could remember.
Almost in a trance, Eva shed her own skirt and shirt to don the dress in their place.
It fit.
Perfectly.
Eva couldn’t recall ever once giving Arachne her measurements, but the dress hugged her body all the way down to her waist. There, it spread out into a short skirt down her thighs.
She spun in a circle, almost wishing that she had a mirror.
Except, she didn’t need one.
The largest portrait of her, the one whose eyes gazed in such a lifelike manner, was wearing the dress.
Unlike the dress she had on, the portrait Eva’s dress had sleeves. Short things that covered up the human skin but left all of her carapace visible. The portrait version of herself only showed off skin from her neck up.
Arachne must have decided to alter the design at some point.
Either way, this dress was meant for her.
Eva slumped down onto Arachne’s bed. She gripped the dress in her hands–it wouldn’t puncture; Arachne’s silk was far stronger than any pressure Eva could exert.
Slowly, she leaned back until her head came to a rest on the pillow.
She stared at the ceiling. Another portrait hung overhead, one that she had missed before. Arachne sat in a chair, a kind smile on her face as Eva sat opposite with her nose in a book.
Arachne wasn’t gone for good. She would be back. But when? Eva couldn’t say.
For all she knew, it could be years.
With a dry taste in her mouth, Eva decided to put off the hunt for Sawyer, school work, and whatever other responsibilities she had.
One day of rest wouldn’t hurt.
— — —
Nothing.
Absolute nothingness. An absence of everything.
An impossible sensation to describe. The moment any words were added to the idea of nothing, a relatable concept would be introduced. Something relatable that could be explained to a sentient mind would invalidate the idea.
And yet, it was a concept that Arachne was intensely familiar with.
Void had to get his name from somewhere, after all.
Eva, was the first word through her mind upon regaining consciousness. That thought vanished as she took stock of her surroundings.
Or lack thereof.
Arachne had once tried to explain a demon’s death to Eva. Not easy, given Void’s absolute nothingness. She listened intently, but didn’t understand the absolute void of everything.
Well, how could she?
Arachne had eventually decided on likening it to a disembodied brain attempting to claw its way back to its home domain.
And yet, Arachne distinctly recalled her head exploding, so that idea was obviously incorrect. She doubted that she even had a brain at the moment.
That professor had better have teleported my Eva away.
There would be hell to pay otherwise.
Arachne would hunt down the professor, her family, everyone she cared about, and even anyone she had so much as shared a pleasant word with as she passed by them in the street. Once she had them all gathered up, she would start with the youngest first. No! The oldest. The little ones might not fully comprehend their predicament. Watching her flay the older ones alive might drive home the point.
But then the older ones might die before knowing the despair that they were unable to save their children.
Quite the conundrum.
Randomly selecting might be the best course of action.
Of course, the professor would be exempt. Arachne would take her eyelids and nothing more. She would be forced to watch as Arachne slowly worked through every acquaintance–
No. Arachne clamped down on the thought. Eva didn’t want her thinking such thoughts.
Then again, if Eva was dead.
Arachne tried to avoid considering that line of thought any further. It did not stir pleasant feelings.
She had been getting so much better lately, in her own, honest opinion. Weaving was therapeutic that way.
Not to mention, thoughts of revenge were not conducive to getting herself out of the belly of Void.
What thoughts were conductive to her escape, Arachne didn’t know. Over the course of more centuries than Arachne could count, she had only died around ten times. She wasn’t quite sure how that stacked up to other demons. Arachne tended not to socialize with many others. Yet, for some reason, she felt like the number was relatively low.
Granted, that low number might have been because she hadn’t been summoned for a majority of her existence. Her domain wasn’t about to kill her and Arachne never visited other demons’ domains.
Her first death, she hadn’t had a clue what was happening. She only vaguely recalled being decapitated before finding herself out in the endless abyss.
In all honesty, it was lucky that she hadn’t gone insane.
Spending more than fifty years with nothing but her own thoughts for company was a hell worse than any she had ever imagined.
Fifty years was little more than a ballpark figure–to use a recent mortal term. There was no possible way of telling time within the void. Even once she returned to her domain, it wasn’t like she had a timer keeping track of how long she had been gone for. It was an estimate based off of subsequent deaths, ones that she had been more prepared for.
As mortal history advanced, they became far better timekeepers than they had been while she was mortal. That, combined with more frequent summons in the recent centuries, led to her estimated number.
But, I don’t have fifty years. Even if her more recent deaths had been less than fifty years, they were still far too long.
That carnivean had escaped in a mere three months. If that. For all Arachne knew, it had only been dead for a day before making it back to its domain.
Three months would have her missing one of Eva’s treatments, but it was still a far cry faster than fifty years.
But how had it managed that?
As far as Arachne was aware, she couldn’t do anything in this state. She couldn’t transform–or even feel her body. For all she knew, she literally was a brain in a jar on Void’s cupboard shelf. Or even just her soul in a jar. No brain needed.
Arachne did know that how soon one returned was somewhat related to how damaged they had been when they died. It took longer the more mutilated one was. Was it based off of their natural regeneration rate? Was the carnivean simply a faster regenerator than she was?
The carnivean had been quite thoroughly mutilated at her hands. Most of its tentacles had been severed along with having its eyes gouged out. And then there was the fact that Arachne had crushed the carnivean’s skull.
But, when she had seen it in Sawyer’s hotel, it hadn’t regenerated fully. It was still missing its eyes and several tentacles, especially the larger ones.
Arachne had never returned even partially damaged. She had always been whole and hearty no matter how damaged her body had been when she died.
There had to be a way to return early.