kayakking | (no subject)

[He does get stuck a few times. Nothing serious, but enough that he stops abruptly to swat at himself, pull his antennae loose from a few strands hanging down. The skittering all seems to stop wherever Algric points it. Might be a trick of their hearing.

But the time they reach the bottom, not only is it wholly dark outside of Algric's light, but Jon is absolutely shaking in fear.]

H-here. It's here.

[A dark oak door with heavy, thick webbing in the corners and over the knob. It almost looks like a lovely page out of a picture book, neatly designed and put together.]

...Good luck. Both of you.

[ This is —

Algric’s eyes go even wider as his light rests on the horrible, children’s book door. He knows it by its description. From what Jonah has told him… ]

It - it’s polite to knock. Isn’t it.

[ He nods to MothJon ] ... Get back to where you're safe.

[ And there it is, even if he didn't have Algric's reaction, or the ominous recitation... there's something off. Something terrifying by about how controlled that design is. ]

We'll take care of this. [ And that seems formal. Dismissive.

Dammit, he should just say what he means. One. Two. Three. ]

We love you, you idiot.

[ Both parts of that. ]

[He goes very still at those words, watching them both. Then something gentle like a smile picks up, pinching at his eyes.]

I love you both, as well.

[But Algric seems ready... He starts carefully backing up, nearly tripping over his own wings. But he's watching from as far around the corner as he can.]

Yes, I -

[ Algric’s voice cracks a little. ]

I love you so much, Jon. With everything I am.

[ But for now… he knocks. ]

[The knock resonates loudly, through the wood and around them. Enough to spook MothJon to leave entirely, going back to the panic room.

The door cracks open, slowly. An invitation, a welcome. The room inside is dim. A large open space with some desks and a vanity dresser lining the side walls. Books, boxes of tapes and file folders are stacked anywhere out of the walkway, on every flat surface. And scattered around the room are even more that are loose. Here and there are trinkets, bits of memory held dear of his loved ones. One of Algric's favorite mugs. One of Tim's favorite models. Sasha's laptop. A book of sheet music from his gran. All neatly arranged wherever they are, a bit of organization attempted in the chaos of his life.

The back wall is a series of floor to ceiling windows, with no curtains so the Eyes can look in. All eight of them. Never blinking, always focused. It watches all the thick, white strands of webbing that take over the room. From the ceiling, to around certain memories, files, cassette tapes. It makes it so there is no clear path through or around the room as the strands are everywhere. But they all come to a focal point: a pit in the center of the room. It's a large hole, completely covered over with webbing, but every web in the room ends there.

The room is filled with the sound of scitters, hundreds of spiders making their way around. And the sound of magnetic tape running, intermingled with the web threads here and there.]

Good god...

[ Tim manages through the fear in his throat. The pinning of the eyes, the signs that these good things have... been over taken? Used to control him? Who knows. He doesn't dare guess with the Web.

He swallows hard and musters up his courage.

He takes that first step into the room, towards the pit. ]

[ Yeah um. Even Algric, lover of large spiders with fur on them, lets out a pitchy little noise of distress. Oh god this is a hellscape - the pit - the eyes -

Algric is frozen by those eyes for a moment, in fact, before hurrying after Tim. ]

Of course it’s a pit, why would it be anything nice, like a spa of spiders—

[The pit is almost completely sealed with the webbing, thick and sticky. Magnetic tape weaves through it all, being tugged and used elsewhere. Most of the spiders seem to be coming and going from this little home.

But the eyes are watching. Waiting to see what they do.]

[ That's a hell of a feeling. He hates it. He HATES it. ]

Algric... [ His voice is low, almost a whisper. ] ... Think you can frost over the windows?

[ If they're going to pull over anything on it... ]

[ Oh. OH. Algric immediately moves to the window with some relief. ]

If I can’t, I can certainly put up a layer of fog.

[ He does so quickly - frost if possible, fog if not. ]

[The frost creeps across the glass, easily enough. The whole room starts to chill with it, until the windows are completely frosted over and the spiders slow to a crawl, some even finding places to hide.

Before a loud, shrill hiss fills the air, thrumming in their ears. And the small spiders start working together to slowly build webs around the room and around them.]

[ The Spider didn't like being blinded, did it? Tim steps on one of the strands nearest around them, and from him comes a terrible heat to ignite the closest. Hopefully one with more spiders than momentos. ]

[ FUCK it does not, does it. Ice does not have quite the same effect on spiderwebs, probably, but Algric yelps and tries to put a layer of fog between himself and Tim and worst of the webs, at least. ]

Okay, I'm starting to see why Jon is afraid of these things!

[The strand under Tim's foot lights up quickly and burns faster. The spiders that were using it either jump free or ride the heat thermals to a different strand. The Spider lets out an inhuman noise the same time as the something in the pit next to them.]

You think. God, if you ever show that dancing spider video aga-

[ It's in the middle of the setting another aflame that the horrible sound wells up next to him. Tim freezes and turns very slowly. ]

... It's there. Isn't it? Tell me it's not.

[ Algric… also turns, slowing down the freezing a bit. ]

No, ah. It. It definitely is.

[The next flame catches a thread nicely, lighting up a folder on the vanity in its wake.

(Gone. Up in a flash.)

The noise from under the webbing in the pit is quieter, less inhuman. More pitiful.]

[ That's... well. Part of him really enjoyed seeing something precious go up. He stomps it down.

That sound... a trick of the Web or another Jon. Dammit. ]

I'm going to see if there's anything in here I can use to cut these blasted things.

[ And lower his own temptations... ]

[ Algric, meanwhile, lets out a little cry of distress at that sound. He immediately stops destroying webs and heads for the pit. ]

Jon? Jon is that you?

[As soon as Algric gets close, more and more spiders of all sizes crawl out from the webbing, like a wave of legs and eyes coming at him. Another loud animalistic growl from The Spider trying to watch through the webbing strands.

There are a couple blades here and there (kitchen knives, butter knives, all manner of them), the fastest thing found being a small pocketknife with some blood already stained to it.]

[ UGHHHHHH he hates this. A lot.

Algric continues to make distressed noises, brushing off spiders and/or trying to discourage them with cold. Gently? So gentle. ]

Just hang on Jon, I’m coming—

[ He’s going to try to lever himself down the pit. ]

[ In the mean time, Tim's hands wrap around the bloodied knife and... he stops. Standing still for a long moment. Listening.

Yeah, you know what? Glass freezing and heating again suddenly does shatter, doesn't it.

He walks over to the fogged, obscured glass. And there's only a second between when his waxy, boiling hand slams against the pane, and when with all of the spite and fury that comes up from the pitiful noises of Jon?? in distress, and tries to drive the bloodied knife through the - hopefully - weakened glass, and into the bulbous, spying eye of the Spider. ]

[The glass starts to crack at first under that wax hand, the lines snaking out in its own web pattern. But then the knife hits and it all shatters. The Spider closes its eye tight around the blade, hissing in pain before the room starts to rock heavily to one side before evening again.

The spiders in the pit are even worse, an uneasy squelching sound under Algric's feet on the thick web covering its entirety. There's the beginnings of a smell there, like rotten eggs and unhealthy flesh together in a pot.]

[ Algric jolts his head up at the shattering sound? But he can’t see what’s going on. ]

Tim? Are you okay?

[ He also takes an uneasy step towards the pile of… well. That. ]