...but her despair overcomes her

Teysa made her excuses and left as soon as she could. Her mind was in turmoil, and her footsteps seemed unsteady. She had to think, to coordinate each step, and it was so hard. Her eight legs all seemed to have lives of their own, and none of them would come down precisely where she wanted it to.

She was early, she could tell that at once. The apartment was deserted. Perhaps that was a good thing-- it would give her time to settle her thoughts before Aliara arrived.

Teysa scuttled over to the pool and stared at her reflection. The water rippled as if in response to her agitation. Her face shattered and reformed, over and over again. She should have known that speaking to the other ascended driders would be a waste of time. They had turned their back on their old lives, after all. Or perhaps they had just forgotten them. Would that be her fate, too? Would she lose herself, piece by piece, day by day, until there was nothing left of Teysa-that-was? Had the others sworn to retain their humanity, too, only to see it slip away?

"Who are you?" she asked her reflection. The other Teysa gave no answer. She was a stranger, that one, a stone-skinned clone wearing a stolen face. All at once Teysa felt claustrophobic. She was suffocating, drowning, buried alive under grey flesh. She sucked in greedy lungfuls of air, but still she could not breathe. There was a real Teysa in there somewhere, a tiny pink thing curled up at the heart of this monstrous body. She was trapped and suffering, but she was not dead.

A flash of light caught her eye. She swiveled her head and there it was: one of Aliara's knives, laid out flat on top of a pile of clothing. Teysa crawled closer to it, entranced. Its silver hilt winked at her. Pick me up, Teysa, it seemed to say. Free yourself.

The knife felt natural in her grip. She had never favored blades, preferring the familiar heft of her mace. Now, though... now she could see the attraction. A simple edge, a tiny silver horizon. What did it do? It divided things. Day from night. Light from dark. Life from ****. Human from spider.

She laid the edge of the blade against her lower body, where the swell of her hips would have connected to the meat of her thigh. There was no seam there, no easy line to delineate where the human ended and the spider began. It was a smooth transition, so subtle that even she couldn't follow it. The blade felt cool against her skin. Her pulse thundered in her ears. It was a wonder her heartbeat didn't bring down the whole cave. It was all she could hear: a steady rhythm, ka-DOOM ka-DOOM ka-DOOM.

She bit her lip. Her hand didn't seem to want to move. She lifted her other hand and wrapped it around the first, then slowly, ever so slowly, began to press. The cold feeling of the metal against her skin became a steady pressure, became an itch, became a sudden flaring line of white-hot pain. She gasped, not in surprise or hurt but in relief. It felt as though a weight had been lifted from her shoulders, a weight she hadn't realized she was carrying. Tears carved their glistening tracks down her cheeks.

She drew the blade downward along the curve of her hip. It traced a line of fire along her body. In its wake, ichor so dark it was almost black drooled from the lip of the wound. She is in there, she thought. I will rescue her. I will. I will save you, Teysa.

Footsteps pulled her back to her senses. Footsteps, light and cheerful, that echoed off the walls of the hall outside. She recognized them at once. Aliara.

She raised the knife and stared at it, her face twisted into a horrified grimace. Don't look at me, it told her. This was your idea. Your plan. Heedless of the pain twisting her side, she rushed to the side of the pool and threw it in. Her blood streamed off it like ink, spiraling down towards the burbling stream that drained away into the cavern wall. Teysa hissed in pain as the lips of her wound ground against each other, but she **** herself to stretch up to where silk strands dangled from the ceiling and wipe the blade clean. She had just managed to slide it back in its sheath and toss it where she found it when Aliara appeared around the edge of the door.

"Tey?" she asked. The cheerful smile on her face faded. "Tey, you're hurt! What happened?"

"Oh, I... I fell. I scraped myself on a stalagmite. I'm still not used to, to running with eight legs."

A brief expression that might have been distaste crossed Aliara's face, but it was quickly replaced with concern. "Oh, you should be more careful! Let me see!" Ignoring Teysa's protestations, she stepped closer. "This looks nasty. Here, let me put a poultice on it." She crossed the room to her satchel and bent to rummage inside. Finally she straightened with a triumphant expression on her face and a strip of silk in her hand, something heavy weighting the middle. "This is made from moss, but it'll prevent infections. I learned how to make these when I was young, and I've been trying to keep a few handy. You never know."

It stung when it went on, but Teysa accepted the help without complaint. She was deeply disquieted by what she had just tried to do. It was as though a fever had broken, and for the life of her she couldn't think of what had gotten into her. The feeling was that of one dancing on the edge of a cliff, and she had just felt the earth shift beneath her feet.

Once the silk had been wrapped around her midsection and the hateful cut had disappeared, she found that she could breathe a little easier. "There we go!" Aliara said. "Good as new." She stepped back and admired her handiwork with her hands on her hips. "Well, if you're up to it... I have a little surprise planned for lunch. Care to come with me?"

Teysa nodded. As she followed Aliara out of the room, she turned her head and gave the knife a last lingering look. It was sheathed now, its glittering blade hidden, but she could picture it all the same. Go on, it said to her. Go, enjoy yourself. Make a day of it.

I'll be waiting.