Lassim and Cirra left the Marshlight Apothecary, heading towards Gossamer Goods as the streets of the swamp town were quieter now. The rush of the early morning had settled into a more languid pace.
They walked side by side, the soft squelching of their steps mixing with the distant sounds of the town going about their day.
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As they approached Gossamer Goods, Lassim had a better look of it with a more keen eye that noted the shop’s exterior. With interest, he noticed that it stood out distinctly from its surroundings. It was crafted with higher quality materials that bore the rich, dark hues of polished swamp wood.
The windows were framed with fine, silk-like threads, shimmering subtly in the light, with full displays of manicured outfits in the windows. Examples of the luxurious fashion that awaited inside.
An ornament on the door caught Lassim’s eye as he reached for the handle to open it—a spider, jet black, with a bulbous abdomen marked by a skull-like pattern, smiling eerily back at him.
However, an odd detail was that its head appeared to be cleanly sliced off at an angle, an odd and somewhat macabre decoration that Lassim briefly pondered before dismissing it as just another eccentric local custom.
Pushing the door open, a bell chimed softly above them, announcing their arrival. The interior of Gossamer Goods was an enclave of elegance with garments of different colored spider silk draped gracefully across displays. Their textures ranged from whisper-thin shawls to robust, woven tunics and pants.
Lassim stepped in, entering in front of Cirra, as his battle instincts immediately flared up as he felt an intense prickling sensation—the unmistakable alert of a potential threat—that felt like a knife was pressed against his neck. He hadn’t felt this much danger from any of the Spirit Ascension cultivators like Hallen or Prince Kael and his generals since returning from the drow plane.
His hands twitched on his sides, an instinctual reaction as he was nearly ready to summon his halberd and rotate his full cultivation to its maximum. Yet, he paused, remembering the guardian’s threat as his eyes adjusted to the interior and caught sight of the shop owner.
She stood behind a finely crafted counter, her presence initially imposing with an intense, scrutinizing gaze that softened almost as quickly as it had appeared. The dangerous sensation immediately dissipated as her gaze relaxed.
Her upper body was that of a mature, older woman with no wrinkles with her long white hair flowing down in elegant waves. Her torso seamlessly transitioned into the thorax of a spider where a normal human’s lower body would be. Her lower half was that of the same black spider creature on the ornament on the outside door, the notorious red skull marking vivid on her back but just a giant version.
Attempting to practice his newly acquired language skills, Lassim carefully executed the greeting gesture he had learned, combining the arm movements with the guttural clicks and hisses of the Spider language. "[Skreeka lok varrak, tarrak skree varrak!]" he attempted, hoping his pronunciation was close enough.
The shopkeeper watched him attempt the greeting, a flicker of amusement in her eyes before responding in kind, "[Tik skree varrak lok, varrak tika lok!]"
After a quick smile that showed off the dimples on her cheeks, she switched to the common tongue, her voice slightly eerie but gentle, "Not bad, young one. But let your wrists flow a bit more like this," she demonstrated, her arms mimicking the fluidity of a spider’s legs.
Cirra, who entered after and caught his attempted performance chimed in, "I agree, but it helps to have you give the advice instead of me. Anyways, this is Lassim," Cirra introduced him, stepping forward. "He’s a new friend and someone who has agreed to pay me back for bailing him out with his communication issues with the town’s guardian and teaching him the language.
I’ll force him to help out with my research a bit before I let him go. I don’t entirely mean for you to help him like you did me, so we’re mainly here to get him some proper attire for the local climate. All his clothes are a bit ridiculous if you ask me, don’t you agree Maelin?"
Maelin nodded, her movements elegant and contained as she navigated from behind her counter. "Well, you’ve come to the right place. Let’s find something more comfortable than those hides and more fitting for you," she said, turning her attention to Lassim with a professional eye.
As Cirra and Maelin discussed fabric choices, Lassim’s earlier tension eased from the sensation of harm that he felt as everything returned to a casual atmosphere. Though, his brow still furrowed as he inspected Maelin and hadn’t moved from his stance in the middle of the room.
Cirra caught a glance at him standing there before adding some explanation in the middle of choosing some fabrics, "Oh calm down, Maelin here is retired now. Oh! Wait, I forgot to explain. She was once among the Spider Queen’s Widows—currently an ex-Widow, if you will. She’s the reason I have that jar of venom I show you.
I begged her to give me some to try to incorporate it into my research, but it’s proven... tricky. It’s incredibly dangerous."
Maelin chuckled, a sound that was both melodic and chilling as her spider legs naturally followed, adding a rhythmic stomping against the floorboards that slightly shook the ground. "Yes, that venom is potent and not easily harnessed for other uses. But it serves its purpose well for what it was intended, killing," she remarked, her gaze momentarily distant as if remembering days long past.
Cirra rolled her eyes at Maelin’s dramatic word choice then added, "Maelin was actually my teacher when I needed to learn the Spider language after we became friends. I came here originally looking for new blouses and left with a mentor when she realized I had a passion for learning languages."
After it appeared that they chose a few different fabrics, Maelin carefully glided with an incredible speed over to him.
Maelin touched him in a few places, measuring him for new garments, her eight spider legs moving with surprising gentleness as she moved without the use of a measuring tape or any other tools except the pointy ends of her most forward two spider limbs and the two hands on her human torso. The nails were black, long and pointy as they tapped in a rhythm across his silhouette.
During this intimate moment, Lassim realized he was standing in the presence of a living piece of the Spider Queen’s legacy. She was beautiful up close, but supposedly was one of the most deadly beings of the Queen’s arsenal.
It explained that threat he felt, but the way she completely hid her presence began to terrify him subconsciously to an extent. He was unsure who would win, even with his recently enhanced capabilities. She seemed much more agile and quick than him and could probably take him out before he got the chance.
As the ex-widow, Maelin, took Lassim’s measurements, she asked, "Will a set of seven outfits suffice? And do you require any specific garments beyond the usual martial attire common for your kind?"
Lassim considered for a moment before responding, "Yes, seven should be enough. However, I’ll also need some undergarments. And can we make one of those outfits to be more formal—I’ve outgrown all my formal wear." He then carefully pulled out a couple token from his magic pouch and showed her the crests of the Rohese and Vanthar families, requesting if they could be incorporated somehow.
Maelin examined the crests, a flash of recognition crossing her face. "Ah, noble lineage indeed, and so far from home at such a tender age," she commented, her tone mixing surprise with a hint of respect.
Her unique abilities and senses allowed her to spy his actual age, yet also observed the raw power barely concealed beneath, she added, "Being so close, I can really smell the freshness of rain. Almost as if there’s the crackle of a storm included. Two elements, isn’t it? Quite fascinating, and you must be something special for your kind to only be 14 with this kind of strength."
Lassim nodded a bit stoically, trying to be more cool, but also confirming her guess about his dual elemental nature and age.
At this revelation, Cirra, who had been quietly observing from the fabric pile, suddenly gasped, her eyes wide with surprise. "Two elements? What?! 14? That’s... that’s incredible!
How in the…?" Her voice trailed off as her gaze went cloudy as her mind went to mach 2 overdrive, absorbing the significance of what she heard and about Lassim’s potential.
With the formalities and measurements out of the way, Maelin turned towards her racks of pre-made clothing. She scanned them briefly before selecting a set that seemed to match Lassim’s measurements.
With a practiced flick, she tossed the bundle towards him. "Try these on for now. They’re crafted from my finest spider silk—light, durable, and fitting for a warrior of your caliber. The rest that is tailor made will be ready in a few days."
Lassim caught the full set of clothing and undergarments, a blend of black, white, and gray fabrics that felt incredibly light yet had a durable heft to them in his hands.
He quickly went behind the changing curtain, removed his sweltering leathers and changed into the new outfit, finding the fit nearly perfect. The clothes were almost designer level in their style but also appeared to be functional for combat; crafted to enhance his agile movements and complement his powerful build.
As Lassim stepped out from behind the changing curtain, the fabric of his new outfit subtly caught the light, accentuating its finely woven texture.
The primary color was a deep, rich black that seemed to absorb the surrounding light, edged with sleek lines of gray that traced down the sides of his torso, emphasizing his lean, muscular build.
The top was sleeveless, perfectly designed to accommodate his need for unrestricted movement, while also showcasing the intricate progenitor markings, black lines that ran parallel down his arms and stopped before the wrists.
The attire fit almost snug, conforming to his contours and allowing ease of movement without any slack that could catch during combat. The undershirt was a soft gray that added an accent to the black collar around his neck. The shirt’s hem was cut in a slight V-shape, extending just enough to tuck neatly into his trousers without bunching, giving him a streamlined silhouette.
His trousers matched the shirt and undershirt combo, primarily black with gray accents running along the outer seams, crafted from the same spider silk. The fabric was surprisingly breathable for how tightly it was woven, an added ideal feature for the humid environment of the Spider Queen’s Threads.
The outfit was completed with a white fabric belt that wrapped around his waist, equipped with several loops or spots for attachments which were perfect for carrying small essentials like magic pouches.
Cirra watched as Lassim stepped out from behind the changing curtain and modeled the new attire. Her eyes appreciated the way the fabric moved with him like a second skin and enhanced his muscles. They also lacked sleeves entirely which fully exposed the progenitor markings that ran like parallel lines down his arms.
"I have to say, you look quite dashing," she complimented, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "Maelin’s craftsmanship never disappoints."
The ex-Widow nodded in agreement, her eyes approving. "You wear it well, young one. It suits you. Come back in a few days, and I’ll have the rest, including your formal attire with your family crests, ready for you."