When -o—o-o opened his eyes, he found himself staring at a dimly lit ceiling of the web. The fabric was woven together to form a stable structure that acted more like it was made up of metal than it was something as soft and malleable as web fluid, entirely unwavering.
The homoarachnoid felt pain throbbing across its entire body. The exteriors of its body were the sharper pain of torn flesh, while its interiors were subject to a duller pain. A specific odor hung in the air, an odor associated with a specific kind of web associated with a specific tribe of homoarachnoids.
He could smell it over his body, binding him protectively and medically. The web served as a cast and covered his gravest wounds. It also informed him of where he was.
CLICK CLICK
"You're. Awake."
-o—o-o turned to spot a familiar figure. The female homoarachnoid weaved webs about an elevated platform, binding a body.
A human body.
A man who looked to be in his thirties.
