From the Depths of Odrii

Location: Odrii Jungle, just west of the Bamboo Steps and Lotus Springs
Character: Chryso (Age 12)

'oh jeez....How did I get myself into this mess?!' the young moth asked himself, running along the forest floor, right wing torn, dripping blood behind him. He spared a glance behind him, and the monster was still raging after him, blood on its massive hooks that were called teeth. He looked ahead of himself again, narrowly dodging a large raised root by ducking underneath it. He kept up his running pace, panting heavily. He wasn't a runner, but here he was, wing torn, and no other way to move, so he had to run!

'I thought leeches were supposed to be slow and sluggish!' he yelled childishly in his head, letting out a whine that carried through the air behind him. The leech let out a snarl, and he heard the branches crack and break, the bushes get shoved out of the way, and the beast's massive body slap into the trees. The giant leech was hot on his tail, and his body still didn't have the properties to cause pain to a target from his bristles - if that thing caught him, he'd be dead, swallowed whole, and digested alive!

The hooks snapped behind him, causing him to go off-balance, and fall onto his face. He let out a groan, but rolled over - the leech's enormous head landing right where he had been. She tried to scramble to his feet, but those abnormal jaws snapped shut over one of his calves. He let out a boyish scream, kicking the leg however he could.

"Get off of me!" he shouted desperately, and used his other foot to kick above the leech's mouth, hoping to shock it into letting go. The jaws parted, emitting a loud whine, and his foot was free! Covered with slobber, but he was free! He scrambled to his feet, ducking under a tree's roots, squeezing into a small space. Seconds later the gaping drooling maw of the leech was above him - but unable to get through to him.

Slobber dripped onto his chest.

"Eugh!" he exclaimed, wiping it off, and trying to scoot back, to avoid getting hit with more of the gooey stuff. The leech gave a roar of fury, then pushed its outward-teeth together into a point, and tried to put its head in between the large, bulky roots. The roots didn't budge, thick and hardened from years of plentiful growth. Now the leech's head was stuck in between, a foot or so from his legs - which he promptly tucked in as best he could.

"HELP!!" he screamed, pressing his back tightly against the tree trunk - the leech was trying to work its way forward, and there was no other way out. He was trapped....Was anybody around?!

There was a soft rustling sound, hardly above a whisper that was all the Harold there was for the sudden flurry of motion, which consisted of the massive form of the leech being ripped violently back from the small hole it was trying to worm its way into and vanishing from sight. The thick sounds of slimy rubber flesh being torn asunder echoed through the trees, followed by the sickening slapping sounds of vital organs and fluids smacking onto the ground with wet thumps.

It wasn’t until He flung the leeches head away from himself did his long tongue slither from his muzzle and begin to clean his large, hands and slender talon fingers of the viscous blood from the legless beast, satisfied he snorted softly, a rushing of air before his crimson eyes pivoted back to the hole he’d pulled the leech from and the cries for help that had drawn him here.

Moving on massive, dark pointed legs he with only the true grace of a spider brought his massive form up to loom over the mouth of the hole , rope like tendrils hanging around his wolfish face, black lips parted showing a maw full of dagger like teeth. Vegas eyed the small bloodied form of the little moth a moment, resting his oversized hands on the hole’s edges, long talons curling in. “Well little one, aren’t you in between a rock and a hard place.” He whispered his voice deep, dark and low like melted honey over a razor’s edge, a deep baritone.

Chryso's chest heaved as his breath snagged, his eyes catching sight of his so called 'savior'. The massive spider, though the head differed from an actual spider's, stood over his scant hole. He could not run from this spider - and like hell he would even if he could fly! Pained tears sprung to his eyes as the leech's partially acidic saliva stung at his skin, having worked through the fur that tufted there.

"Get away, monster!" he cried out childishly, pressing even tighter to the trunk of the tree - soft shadows bathed him as the sun peering through the tops of the trees faded for an instant - clouds must have passed over. The dim lighting made the old blood arachin seem even more intimidating, those red eyes seemed to flash dangerously....This monster could probably swallow him whole! If the thing ate like that, anyways. He gave a mental shudder at the thought of being sucked up alive, his insides liquefied...

As he glanced into those red eyes again, he was sucked back into a memory - though how one could call this terror of a thought a memory, he would never know.

"Yourrr motherrr and fatherr... Will make wonderrrrful snacksss!" an arachin cackled, tugging his arms back violently. Chryso gave a gasp of pain, and a sob escaped just afterwords. Five arachins surrounded a very small glade - and two other white and brown moths were currently being bound up. He wasn't being bound....Why? Weren't the spiders taking all of them?

He let out a boyish cry as he heard his mother scream, heard the slap on her skin... the memory grew fuzzy after that, but he knew now what had happened. They'd ditched him in the clearing, knocking him out, and stole away his parents. Later, he'd finally traced the spiders to their den, except it was deserted. Two corpses, muscles and fat deteriorated, skin rotting, were hanging from silk...

He'd hated spiders since then! This spider was no different - savior or not! He would have rather braved the leech.

Vegas chuckled, a deep dark thunderous noise as he leaned his muzzle into the hole more, peering at the small male. "Now thatss not very kind, I could have let that thing eat you hmmm?" He purred with that clicking sort of hiss in the back of his throat. Vegas was having one of his good days, and seeing that tiny little moth all alone...well it reminded him of something a long time ago, so it seemed like a fine idea at the time to do away with that slurping leech, besides he didn't much care for the mushy things to start with.

Sighing deeply, muzzle parting to expose both rope like tongue and dagger teeth he moved back enough to reach one massive, slender fingered hand into the hole that was serving as the moth's fortress for the moment. "Come on now tiny one, you are much to sssmall to eat anyway." He chuckled again, his odd voice whispered and yet deep. He flexed his talon like fingers so the boy could climb into his hand with out fear of the points.

"You have my word, I will not eat you."

He rolled his many eyes as he spoke, amused at the small moth's fear of him, and his own attempts to ease it.

"Your word is worth less than nothing to me, get away, beast! I would have rather faced the leech than your ruthless and hideous kind!" Chryso swore, baring his teeth angrily. There was little he could do...Inside, he was frightened beyond belief, but his father had always told him to be strong, to have the lion's heart - whatever that meant, anyways.

He didn't want to be in this situation; to be trapped, and to be blatantly told he wasn't going to be eaten, though it was a flat out lie! Frustration welled up in him, along with a few tears, as he imagined what his father would do, if he was in this position. His father would be bold, powerful, strong....But here Chryso was, whimpering like a baboon-dog pup. Oh how he wished his father and mother were here! They were both so strong; yet he was so weak!

He felt a flare of pain as his injured foot was still being slowly attacked by the semi-acidic saliva of the leech, and his wing throbbed with pain. There was no getting out of this - but there was no reason he couldn't try!

He aimed a kick for one of the monster's massive digits, using his uninjured foot, knowing it would hardly do much more than a small distraction. Maybe if it landed, and the spider recoiled, he could escape!

Vegas snarled, deep in the back of his throat, but it was not from the small kick to his hand. Recoiling from the hole he swang his claws at the wood, shattering bits off the top. "How dare you, what vile loathsome runts you have incountered no nothing of honor, my word is my bond you brat, do not asume to know me!" He bellowed, showing retractible fanged mandibles as he opened his mouth wide to shout, then sticking his muzzle back towards the hole to glare at the small moth.


" I sssshould have let that thing devour you, but maybe I'll just leave you here to watch your own foot rot off from the acrid silava hmmm?" His hissed deadly dark and insulted.
He was not a kind thing, he'd eat just about anyone but if he gave his word, he kept it, it was how things should be, despite what vile deeds he commited his word was an oath he took seriously.

He eyed the small insect through narrowed eyes, his head cocked slightly to the side, his rage dimisnished, leaving a cool , lofty sort of expression on his wolfish face.

Chryso yelped pathetically, squirming to one side in a miserable attempt to avoid the monster's maw. True, this being was an old blood, and his mother had told him to always trust an old-blood's word, for they never went against it, their honor being the most precious thing to them, or something. But this old blood was an arachin! And arachins had slaughtered his parents...

"Why should I trust you?! The only arachins I've met stole my mother and father from me, and left me an orphan!" he cried out boyishly. Was he trying to convince himself, or the old blood, to give a good reason? He couldn't tell... his mother right now would be scolding him for being so rude to an old blood, but his aching chest told him to loathe and torment all arachins that he came across....But he was too small, too young...He was a scared little boy, who'd just recently lost his parents, and had an enormous beast that could slurp him up without an effort looming over him.

His shoulders shook, and he tucked his face into his knees, sobbing. He didn't know what to do! He wanted his mother and father back! He wanted all arachins to suffer for his pain...But this old blood that was towering over him, so far, had not harmed him, even though Chryso had tried to, faintly, harm the elder. Was he in the wrong, here? Or was the old blood? The arachin had saved him....But that was just it, the monster was an arachin!

His thoughts continued to conflict and counter themselves as he tried to figure out what to do, meanwhile bawling into his fur-tufted knees, pain temporarily dulled on both accounts, for he was far too distracted. But his foot was slowly starting to lose skin, turning a dark gray with his blood and slightly rotted skin patches. The monster was right, in that way. He could just sit Chryso out, and let the boy's foot rot.

He didn't know how to heal his foot, the bacterial substance would continue to attack his flesh, even if he washed and scrubbed. The deed had been done, the bacteria was there, skin was rotting, and would continue to. Water would only make it worse, in this case. He hadn't the faintest clue what could cure it, but maybe the arachin old blood would know. Problem was....

Was Chryso willing to part, temporarily, with his hatred?

" I am the only chance you have, besides,I am not those tiny spiders boy, now stop being foolish and come with me, before you die of infection." He said, voice leveling out in such away that his pity showed through. He remebered a scared baby in the woods years ago and sighed. He could not help but forgive the child's impudence, after all he was lost, alone, injured and frightened, what more could he really expect from a small boy in such a situation.

There the beast was capable of rational thought, to go beyond being a slavaring monster. Oh, he was still a monster, there was just a mind behind all those teeth.
"Now, come along, and if you're good I'll tell you a story about another lost boy after I fix you hmmm?" He cooed, though his cooing was not as comforting as he would have liked, he was after all not really built for such things, but he tried.

He'd sworn to not to eat him and he wouldn't have to start with, but now he went further. " I promise I'll keep you safe, how about that?" He poised his long fingers on the tattered ruins of the mouth of the hole again, waiting to reach down and scoop out the tiny moth.

Chryso reluctantly looked up, hearing the words, his beautiful sapphire eyes wet with tears. His mother had always loved his eyes - they were outstanding, and unique, she always said.

'My little handsome prince....' she murmured, gently rubbing his head and antennae. 'You have such gorgeous eyes, my little prince. No one else in our family had a color like yours.' she praised. A soft giggle came from the boy's mouth, and he gazed at her with the absolute purest level of adoration. 'Thanks, ma! I like your eyes, too!' he replied, gently nuzzling her nose with his own. She smiled, her green eyes bright. 'Thank you, my prince. It does an old woman's heart good to hear a compliment from her loving son,' she cooed. He nuzzled her again, then tucked into the fur on her chest warmly.

He flinched at the memory. That was the night before his parents were taken from him. He glanced at the once again extended hand, and reluctantly, and slowly, stood to hobble on one foot, not wanting to risk stepping it onto something nasty, causing a higher chance of infection. He flared out his wings for balance, and whimpered at the pain of his wing. He'd forgotten about that injury...It'd take moons for that to recover!

Silently, he wanted to apologize to the arachin - for indeed, he had been extremely rude, and had prejudiced the old blood in a manner that would have had his antennae cuffed and stinging by his mother's firm hand. But he couldn't choke it out of his lungs and throat, clogged from his bawling, to say anything else to the monster. Hesitantly, he stepped forward, one hand on the marred tree root, and onto the arachin's massive hand. It was awkward, and he was unsure of how the beast would carry him easily like this, but apparently the old blood had done this sort of thing before.

He was still shaking, but he was being a foolish boy. His mother was right - the word of an old blood was as good as one you'd make to your loved one; there was no reason to break the softly-spoken oath, in an old-blood's mind. Why had it taken a memory for him to see that?

Because, his mother, though passed, still was teaching him things. He was the lesser power, here, and this old blood knew what he was doing, and apparently, thought he was worth saving. Wasn't that enough? In a way, to Chryso, it wasn't, but his argument for combating the reasons to not trust the old blood, wasn't enough either. It was all so confusing....

"There" He whispered, drawing his hand out of the hole, small moth cupped in it, long fingers acting as bars to stop the boy from falling to the ground. He didn't need his hands to walk, keeping them tucked up close to his broad chest, his six other long spider limbs did the work of moving his massive body across the ground, long tendril like hair bouncing faintly as he started to walk.

Picking his way through the trees with expert ease, moving the smaller, more bendable ones out of his way with his free hand he made his way back to the large rock face he was currently nesting in. Though the giant hole that let to his tunnle like den was some considerable ways up the cliff face, it was obviously no task for him to climb it. Hoisting himself through the round opening and into the tunnel which was covered in thick soft webbing. He did not spin webs like some spiders to hang about, his was dense and made for lining the walls of his cave. He picked his way across the floor, turning once he hit the end of the vast line and sat down, at long last depositing the small insect onto a soft, small nest of pelts on the webbing.

Tucking his long legs about under him he set about fiddeling with this fingers in the many, fairly well hidden holes about the walls which acted as cuboareds, producing jars of salves and herbs and a few small ties, fashioned from reeds, along with some strips of animal hide. " Let me see that foot first little one." He offered lowering his head down to the floor on the end of his long bendy neck, and holding things with the very tips of his fingers.

Chryso watched with awe as the jungle passed by quickly - and soon the jungle was now a rockface, which the spider promptly entered, and carefully deposited him onto what seemed to be a large pile of animal pelts laid together to make a relatively comfortable bed, or whatever one wanted to use it for.

He gave a puzzled look, though, when the arachin had fished around inside what seemed to be small holes in the walls, and came back to him, the thin fingers holding a few items carefully at the tips. Seeing as Chryso wasn't the brightest child around, he gave the old blood a wary look, brows furrowed together. After a moment, he understood, and gently eased his injured foot out - he'd had it tucked in close to his body.

"...I'm sorry I acted like that." he murmured softly, looking to the side, face heated a little. He hated showing weakness - and apologizing was a form of weakness to him, even if the apology was warranted.

He chuckled a little at the look he was getting, having expected it, it was amsuing in that endearing manner in which children behave.

" I understand why you did, but it shows strength for you to apologize , it means you understand you were wrong and are grown enough to admit it." he spoke as he eyed the foot and its wound with narrowed crimson eyes, then tentivly he picked at it faintly, ridding it of any trace of caroded flesh and acrid slime, which he knew might be painful but had to be done. After which he applied a few bits of thick ointment from several jars and as a final touch patted what looked to be dried moss onto it before wrapping the ties and leather about it. "There, that should keep it from festering." He flicked his gaze at the youths wing, plucking silk from the walls around him swiftly and with in a moment had covered the tear.

" Not much to do about that save to let it heal, try not to flutter it to much young one, less you damage it more."

Fingers move again and all the items vanished from where they had come from.
"I would not try to walk on that foot though, injure it more and you may very well end up limping for the rest of your life, then how would you run away from leeches?" He teased, showing a toothy wolfish grin.

Chryso continued to flush, a bit annoyed with the monster's teasing, but kept himself from giving a nasty retort that someone his age should not know. He'd bit back the pain, telling himself that his mother and father had gone through worse, and if they had, he could stomach this minor ache.

"I won't do anything to bother the healing." he grumbled after a minute, a faint pout on his features, though he tried not to show that. There was one thing that bothered him, though. Well, several, actually. For one, if he couldn't exactly move, due to his dual injuries, that meant he'd have to stay in the company of this old blood for a WHILE, at least until his foot healed over. His wing, he could do without for a moonturn or two. But no doubt, this arachin ate only meat and gory stuff; Chryso ate no such material. He was a strict fruit-eater, and nectar-lover, though he hated the taste of honeydew juice.

Another issue, was the fact that the bed he was on, was in fact, the one he was on. This creature surely wouldn't have made a bed, person-sized just for idle fun! There had to be someone else who lived here at some point or another....But as he glanced around, he found no such traces of someone living here with the beast. That made him wonder - did the spider actually go against his word, and bring in travelers to his home, gain their trust, and then gobble them up? No, that was a boyish idea. Besides; it really wouldn't be worth the effort and cost in the end, would it?

Another thing that bothered him was that this was a spider's lair - though the silk strands were faintly reminiscent of how his own home had been, before spiders ruined that, too. It was oddly comforting, but that's what bothered him. He didn't want to feel comfortable in a possible enemy's home! It was a dangerous idea, and he didn't want to trust the being, even though the old blood had so far, been true to his word.

Chryso just didn't have that much trust in him, anymore.

Vegas smiled, as softly as he could manage given his mouth, it was not an easy thing . " Good, you're a sssmart child, not arguing with your elderss"
His large head swayed a little as he propped his chin up on his hands, eyes closing for a moment, cutting off their burning glow for a moment. Breathing deeply as if lost in thought. After a pause he opened his eyes again to peer at the youth, clicking faintly in the back of his throat.
"What am I going to feed you?" The questioned seemed more to himself then anything else but he'd spoken out loud.

Shifting his position again he reached forward, though really he just moved his finger, given his size and tucked some of the furs and cloth in closer to the small moth, absent minded in the action, as if he'd done this before.

Chryso bristled again, his poison bristles he forced to stay still, though. The spider may be immune to his kicks and physical blows, any creature that had an amount of skin or flesh would be vulnerable to an itchy rash that would stay for weeks, causing irritation, pain, and in some cases of a rare bug, a life-threatening or fatal allergic reaction. That would even bode ill news to the old blood, at least in the eleven year old's mind.

But the spider was odd, and his young mind couldn't fathom what the elder was doing. Arachins and fliers like him fought on a regular basis! Which was why his parents had been so savagely attacked and then murdered....He cringed again at the thought, shrugging his shoulders a little closer together, loosening the fur blankets the old blood had tucked close to him. It got hot and stifling when he was under blankets, and awake. He typically slept without them for this reason, but he didn't want to be rude....

Though, the arachin was acting strange - in fact, as if he'd done this several times before! That unnerved him, and he stared at his feet, poking out from the other side of the fur blanket he was surrounded by, though his white feet and brown-furred legs rested on yet more furs, laying stuck to the silks. Maybe the spider had company here, before?

Chryso looked around again, searching for anything that could hint of a person being here previously - though he kept to only moving his head. No need to... alarm the arachin. But that made a boy like him curious. He really wanted to know why the old blood had such a bed made up already! It wouldn't have sparked his interest if the spider had the materials, and hastened to forge them together upon entry to the trussed up cave, but....No, the bed was here already, and that interested him.

"....Why do you have a bed made already? I thought old bloods lived alone." he accused, stumped. He had found no evidence to sate his hungry mind.

Vegas tilted his large head to the side, as is not really hearing what it was the tiny moth was saying, though it only took a moment for a low chuckle mixed with an odd huff like sound to rumble up from his throat. "The bed was my son's, young one, and not all old bloodsss are the same" He rumbled when he spoke and dropped his head down onto his hands like a dog resting on its paws.

His tail swished behind him, brushing the back wall and making a soft rustling sound in the silence, filled only with Vegas' exhale. What was he going to do with this little moth, who so obviously did not trust him, and understandably so? He could not keep this little orphan, could he?

That made shivers run through his spine. He didn't like the idea of spending the night in an arachin's bed! But, suddenly he was very sleepy, whether or not it was from fatigue, or just being a young boy who needed lots of good rest, he couldn't tell, but in the blankets, he also felt very secure, even with the old blood in his presence, most likely watching him.

But, with the spell of drowsiness, that didn't really matter anymore. His tired, ocean's heart eyes drooped, and his antennae tucked back against his shoulders as he laid back, turning onto his uninjured wing, which unfortunately was the right. It was his right foot that was injured, so he had to suffer through one or the other. The wing was more important to keep off of, though, so he chose to suffer the throb of his foot.

This old blood was interesting, but sleep was more so. He wondered if he'd see his mom in his dreams again....And with that thought, he slipped into sleep, and in moments was experiencing a vivid dream.

'He blinked, standing in darkness, he felt warm, but his body was shaking, and his arms were clasped together, his wings furled close. Why did he move as if freezing, but he felt warm? That made him wonder. He was alone, though, where was the spider's cave? As if by magic, that scene appeared, and he was wrapped tight in fur blankets, off in one shadow were pairs of blood red eyes, watching him dully, as if they had nothing better to do.

That must be the arachin. But that still didn't explain why he felt warm, but shivered as if cold! A soft petting went to the top of his head, and something pressed to the back of his neck as a warmer figure bent to his, despite the furs, seeming to melt straight through them to join his body. The heat inside him flared up, and he looked up to see who was behind him. He was met with the soft white, round face of a fully grown woman, and a moth.

"Mama!" he blurted childishly, turning around quickly to embrace her. The figure said nothing, but held him tightly, petting his small mane softly. His mother was here! '

His body during this rest shifted endlessly, his expression furrowed and worried, even though his head was pleased and happy. His body broke out in a sweat, and soft moans left his lips. Illness had struck the poor boy - though from what, the little one would not find out easily.

Vegas has smelled her approach long before she made her way into his den, how she managed the climb in all those layers he wasn't sure, but she was a resourceful woman and appeared in the mouth of the silk lined tunnel, not a hair out of its ornate place, golden combs glittering in the faint light. Her chest rose with the intake of her breath as her eyes, orange like the leaves when they turned flashed swiftly from him to the small moth child laying in front of his hands. She hurried over, her dainty feet moving swiftly across the silk, hardly moving the delicate strands, the hems of her embroidered robes rustling softly. She was a contrast to his den with her white fur and bright clothing, much as the child's own snow coloring.

Dropping to her knees next to the small shivering form wrapped in animal pelts she pulled back the layers as if unwrapping a precious gift that needed to be handled with the most care. Her red fingers dancing over the furs until she found his small form with in.
Softly she scooped him up into her lap, cradling his head against her chest and petting the small mane atop his head. The poor thing, injured as he was, it broke her heart. As he tossed in his fitful sleep she gathered him in her arms and hoisted her self with practiced grace and surprising strength to her feet, moving into Vegas' hands he lifted them bother and rested them against his broad chest. Now settled she shifted the young boy's weight, keeping him close and inspecting his wounds, she could make little sense of them, they seemed to be in fair condition, but his sleep was fevered.

She ran her fingers through his mane again and started to hum, softly a lullaby she sung to the young girls in her home, trying to ease the young one's sleep. Raising her gaze to the old blood with worry in her eyes, she was no doctor and had no way to know if he was alright, even so she clutched the small form to her chest, a dull ache in her that rested low in her stomach where things should be but no longer were.

Vegas sighed, his breath rustling her hair as she leaned against him, watching her as she cradled the child and felt a pang of guilt for exposing her to this, knowing how she felt about children, but who else could he trust to take care of the boy. He stretched his lips into a smile at her and was silent.