Snippet #2696655

Visiting the scene of a violent tragedy was something Gwathel always found alarmingly interesting. She could see, feel, and touch more than the average human could. She had found the more violent the event, the more it seemed to bleed into the location. It never mattered if anyone, or no one died, was maimed, or hurt, or if anything precious was lost. It only mattered that it was violent.

And what was more violent than fire?

It didn't help that it brought out the nature of her curse. Fire was concerning that way, destroying all it touches, yet bringing in new life, and renewal. It was like what she had become, but in reverse. She didn't want to admit that's why she'd sought the remains of infernos out. Hoping to find some metaphorical key to switch things back to how they used to be, and to sate her need for destruction.

This one was particularly interesting to her. She'd heard whispers of it, tales of part of a large, secretive building exploding into hot, angry flames. She'd been stuck on Terra for so long, she was unsure why she'd waited until now to seek it out.

Maybe it was just because Nebrajit was far from where she'd been, or maybe it was because she hoped for an answer. Either way she was here now.

Rain trickled down from a lazy gray sky, pelting the lone woman along the road. She was tall, and lithe, walking along the cracked, and crumbling asphalt with deft strides. No matter how graceful her movements though, something about her just seemed out of place, even at a distance. Something about her was just wrong in an undefinable way. She was something that wasn't supposed to exist, but a suit of human flesh kept her glued into reality.

What made it strange was just how human, and normal she looked.

Dirty-blonde locks of well maintained hair tumbled down over her shoulders, reaching to her upper back; now plastered to her skin from the rain. It contrasted on her simple black pants-suit, trimmed in ivory-white, and tailored to near-perfection. She wore white open-toed wedges, and clutched a black leather bag to her side. While she looked overdressed for a burnt out section of a lowly town, nothing visible about her screamed wrong.

And yet, any average person who ever even glimpsed her would attest to just how unnerving her mere presence was.

Luckily, it seemed like no one was around. She closed her eyes as she trudged on, listening closely to the whispers of her brood. She could hear them, always, but it took focus to understand them. Hisses, clicks, and shrill screeches bombarded her, but a clear mind, and heavy attention turned them into a chorus of hushed speech. She could hear everything her little ones saw, and felt.

So much of the arachnid chatter was about deep puddles the tiniest Wolf Spiders couldn't cross, or the webs of Long-Legs jiggling with rain, drawing them out in case it was prey. One courageous Black Widow's voice stuck out, ever so lethal, but so tiny, it had it's eight glowing eyes trained on a Pigeon. The bird was wet, and taking refuge in a windowsill, trying to ride out the weak storm. The Widow wanted to eat it so bad.

It made Gwathel giggle. It had no chance, but with a single soft whisper she dispatched one of her brood to assist. A very large Hawk-Tarantula, massive for his already large kind, and a most adept hunter. It would ambush the bird, subdue it with venom, and leave it to the widow. It was her little gift, to make a dream come true.

After all, the chatter provided the Intel she needed. Sure, it was all useless day-to-day observations, but nothing she heard mentioned any humans.

She was alone, as far as she could tell. She sent tiny Wolf Spider scouts ahead, and picked up her pace. She was almost jogging, but between the slippery, and decaying ground, and wedge-shoes, it was more like a brisk power-walk.

---

She approached the old MCU building cautiously, tenderly. Despite the events being long over, she could feel the heart of the fire that consumed it. She could smelled the burning wood, and tasted the ash. The closer she got, the hotter, and more intense it was, the stronger the memory of trauma that Terra held onto became.

She stopped some fifty feet away from the steps up to the main entrance, the heat of the memory too intense for her to keep going.

That was what always happened in the end. It was an unfortunate side effect of what she used to be. Spirits of her ilk, those that created life from nothing, could feel everything, always. Even the memory of wood, or dust, and when something violent happened those memories would often replay endlessly. Like it or not. She closed her eyes for a moment, letting the memory swallow her.

She stood there, stone still for a good hour while feeling like she was being cooked alive, despite the rain.

It was a painful event, but the only way to block out the memory of a planet like this was to feel it wholly, to relive it. Once she was able to quell the echoes of the past, she set to work. Calling her brood to her, all the smallest spiders she could muster, and having them fan out. Their task was to spot but not touch any magical wards that might be left lying about. Normally something out of their capability, she'd prepped a rather powerful divination spell the day prior.

She cast it like a wide net over her clan, coating each spider in it's magic. They'd all be able to see wards. Gwathel just hopped the locations abandoned state meant that any abjurations or illusions cloaking them were gone.

She was starting to worry for her lovelies when they didn't report back for awhile with any sightings. A sense of dread came over her as she sat on the steps, worried one of her little ones would walk straight into its death. That unease went on for another ten minutes until the hissing voice of a tiny Wolf Spider filled her mind.

"I sssee sssomething Ssss red. It movesss. Never ssseen ssssomething like thissss before."

She knew from the vague description exactly what it was, but to be sure she peaked into the little spider's consciousness, into it's soul. It felt warm, and happy to have her attention like this, but mostly hungry, which made Gwathel giggle. No matter how small or large, spiders only ever thought about food. She pushed it's thoughts aside, and focused on it's many eyes until she could see everything it saw.

There right in front of it, was quite the ward.

She released the little beast, and sprang up, dashing around the the back of the building. Hurriedly she ordered her brood to a safe distance, then bent down and scooped up a rock. With a snap of her fingers the tiny chunk of stone burst into flames, and she cocked her arm back. This wasn't the best plan, and she was aware of it, but she didn't know how else to set the MCU's ward off without harming herself, or her kind.

The ward was one a third story window, or what was left of a blown out window. Not that difficult of a shot even for a human, but incredibly easy for Gwathel.

She hurled the stone with amazing force, and it collided with the ward dead center, setting off a massive fiery explosion. She smiled up at it, pleased with her work. Hopefully it would count as a potentially attack on the structure, and alert the owners. If not maybe it would at least cause enough of a ruckus for someone to be dispatched to check. At worst it'd be loud enough to wake anyone inside the hovel up.

No matter which way it played out, it was her best shot at speaking to someone of the ever-shadowy MCU, and maybe getting some answers.