The evening grew darker as Araña traced a comb through her long ebony hair before a twisted wrought iron mirror. The texture of spider silk, it fell in a long black pool to the small of her back. Her mood was equally back since having scryed with her servant’s eyes and seeing the image of the fair princess.<br/><br/>With a haughty grunt, Araña turned on her foot, black dress and hair fluttering in a dark arc, then strolled back to her keep, gown swishing quietly behind her. The dress was of glassy silk, even deeper than the color of her hair. Spun from her children, the dress was just long enough to grace the floor when she stood flat-footed. The hem split up the front just to the bottom of her naval. Long, pale and creamy legs carried her with ease, her silk covered loins nestled teasingly just behind the slit. The dress hugged her contours very closely, lacking a back and fastening with a wide collar around her neck. Her ample bosom sat high and proud, nestled in the silk halter top with a circular opening that displayed smooth cleavage.<br/><br/>The potion she was currently brewing, a lethal poison of widow’s venom sweetened with honey, stewed in a cauldron over a fire within the center of her keep. The hollow walls of her castle were alive with servants, both large and small. Their venom and silk, along with their own lives, provided with an endless supply of ingredients for her specialized poisons.<br/><br/>One of her servants descended from the ceiling on a silver thread, perching on her shoulder before whispering for her attention.<br/><br/>“What is it, my child?” she murmured. The spider spoke its secret language to her, the language only she in the entire land could understand and speak back. She paused as it relayed its message. “Coming here?”<br/><br/>There was an intruder approaching her lair, and was already very close. Araña thanked her servant, stroking its hairy body lightly with the tips of two fingers, and the creature departed up the silver thread it left.<br/><br/>Who was it that so carelessly entered her web, a wandering traveler foolishly seeking shelter? The sprawling dungeon of her castle held many such persons, all of them encased in web cocoons. Some were fed to her children, while the more desirable ones were reserved for her own thirsts.<br/><br/>Araña waved her hand over her cauldron, coaxing the fire beneath it to burn hotter. Such a brew that required tedious celestial alignment was not to be spoiled for<em>any</em>reason. The heat flowed through the black silk gauntlet cuff over her wrist, her black nails glimmering poisonously in the orange light.<br/><br/>Once again, she retreated to the center of her castle and web: her bedchambers. The circular room that lay within the top tower of her black castle housed very little; a wardrobe, vanity, and mirror, but her bed took up a large portion of the room. It had four posters, made of iron, and was done up with the softest black silk her servants had to offer. It was hear she could listen to her servants the best.<br/><br/>They would track this intruder for her as he entered her castle, and perhaps even lead him straight to her. They had not feasted for quite some time, and neither had she indulged in the pleasure of flesh.<br/>