Ficly

Seven

Creep and skitter, weave my web, decieve, entrance, capture. The three eyes peering from the gloom, the rush of pain and the sound of it all melting away.

Trapper and trickster, betrayer and entangler, plotter and schemer. Arachnid, trinocular and paranoid. Weaver and killer, legend and myth.

Lord of Scheme, Master of Illusion, King of Trikery, child of Pain. Lucky number, unlucky day, pick the poison, cool the blood. Trapped in silk, cry out, hear the crackle as it approaches, the Marquis of Chance. Heads or Tails?

Take a chance, pick a card, weave a web, trick and lie. Trust the triskster. Feel the pain, fuel the bond, trust the child, break the web, struggle in vain. Can’t fight fate.

Sound of sanity, taste of blood, cold pain in old drifts, last world, bridge of souls. The last pain you’ll ever feel.

Drink the sounds, feel the struggle, pull the web, snap the threads.

Eat the prey.

After all, before all things, fate rules supreme.

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