ORIGIN

Small tippy-tappy furry legs stretched one by one from the odd room. The scents of fire and bees had immediately driven the little hatchling off and now here he was, emerging into Orion proper, a foot in length of mostly legs.

Ghostly white eyes stared wide around at the world, and one especially tippy-tappy foot clicked, its gemstone tip occasionally offbalancing the child.

The spider paused, lifting himself and peering with those pale eyes. He could see the ruined buildings, and the distant tower--and they were interesting; but he saw, too, the glittering quartz stars high overhead, and he wondered at them. Beautiful, he thought; though perhaps not for him.

This place was dark, which was good for hiding. But it was dry, and the rock here, even (as he slipped eight-legged over it) tasted of fire. Fire was bad.

After a few moments of wandering exploration, the spiderling began to feel exposed; and so he pulled himself into a crevice in the buildings, to sit and observe the world for awhile.

Nothing passed. Nothing came; and so, after awhile, the spiderling emerged again, hesitantly crawling into the ruins of the buildings nearby.

There were crumbled rocks, here, dirt, bits of things the spider did not recognize--and how could he, being so young? He crawled over it all, cautious, and scurried up the side of one of the buildings, feet clinging carefully.

Once at the top, he turned his ghost-white gaze out over Orion itself.

It was-... large.

"...Oooh," the little spider murmured, and then--startled and enamored at the sound of his own voice, crooned it again: "...Ooooh!" He'd nearly fallen back off the building the first time, but now he liked that voice--and it was his!

"Oh, ooooh, ooo-oooh-ahhh, oooh!" he said, in a sing-song voice, as he turned and scurried back down the wall. Fun! Sound was fun!

Spiders shouldn't be able to talk, should they-..? Legba didn't know. All he knew was that Orion looked big; and he wanted to learn it. To learn his new home.

He made his way back out, feeling his way out into the open center of Orion, and then off toward the air blowing through the tunnels.

Legba turned sharply at the sound of another voice.

In another world, the young spider might have seen the caterpillar and thought, "food." Indeed there was a slight tinge of hunger, but it didn't really stir into his full consciousness for two reasons: first, he'd heard her before he'd seen her, and so he was thinking "friend" instead (or, at least, "person"); and second, she was so much bigger than him. They were both oversized, to be sure--but he was, what, a foot long? And she was four times that.

Six white-glow eyes regarded the caterpillar curiously.

"Hello," he answered, turning to face her, taking a step or two toward her. Pedipalps briefly raised, stroking down his fangs, then settling again. "Who are you?" A little guarded, perhaps--she was big, after all--but friendly enough; a child's curiosity, laced with distant wisdom beyond his years.

...Minutes, really.

The spider again passed pedipalps over chelicerae, a nervous gesture perhaps, or a thoughtful one. He turned away, keeping his distance some, to look out here and there over Orion. He then looked back, and for whatever reason, there was humor dancing in his eyes.

If one could read "spider" eyes, at least.

"Legba is my name. Hello, Fairy--for me, the same. Just out of the cave, right back there. And here-... Well, I don't know where. There's sparks up high, I see those. I think there was fire; I taste it with my toes."

His voice--though young--was silky-smooth, a pleasant mellifluousness to it, and Legba seemed pleased with this.

He turned, and took a few steps toward Orion's center before pausing, peering brightly back at the oversized caterpillar. "Would you like to come with me? Out into the cave? I want to go and see--if you're at all brave.

Oh, she was stroking his ego, and he loved it. The little spider was, it seemed, a prideful little thing; and the more Fairy praised him, enthusiastic, the higher he drew himself up, running legs over one another, his pedipalps over his fangs. Grooming and preening, and feeling terribly proud of himself.

"Aww, aren't you the nicest thing. I didn't mean to speak in rhyme. Maybe I should sing-? Ha! Hm-..."

Foiled.

He was still just a child; what rhymed with... rhyme? Time? Lime? What's a lime?

Ahh, well.

"Say, your rhyme wasn't too bad, yourself." Legba appeared oblivious to the fact that she had, indeed, used one he'd used just before. He could be excused, perhaps, by his age, or maybe he just wasn't as bright as all that. In any case, he started to crawl his way out into Orion, peering up curiously at the sparkling ceiling, and out at the tower. "Everything does seem bigger. What's that big thing over there, d'you think?" The spider paused, turning his body to peer back, making sure the caterpillar was keeping up--and then he looked to the tower, again.

What could it possibly be..?

Legba was delighted at that rhyme. Did it make sense? Maybe not. But "the touch" had a fantastic vibe to it, he felt; a sort of mystical and faintly-ominous but oh-so-promising sound.

"The touch... the touch! You have the touch? -That all sounds very magical, and such." Oh, he was proud of that one. He hardly even noticed the poor caterpillar trying, and failing, to groom her face, so full of himself was he!

But he didn't forget her, no; he needed that audience. He turned back a few times, making sure she'd keep up, slowing if she couldn't, as he made his way, too, toward the tower. "The top... yes! A tree, you say? I could see it." No rhyme, there, just consideration, curiosity.

When at last he reached it, he found that his feet were having some trouble clinging. Instinct told him to just smear a li'l fungus on it, so he tried that, not really knowing what that meant, but hey.

He wasn't real sure what was meant to happen, but what did happen was nothing, so he started his way up.

Along the outer wall. Legba had not, in fact, seen the doorway yet.