Arachne didn’t need to be told twice to approach the carriage and peek inside. Her curiosity pushed her forward just as immediately as desperation-- but not too far. Ordinarily, Arachne would have been arrogant enough to accept an opened carriage door as an invitation inside whether it was intended to be or not. But tonight she was too covered in filth to dare seat herself next to any lady dressed so well. Even in the dark the stitch witch could spot the elegant drapery of a highborn lady’s finery, though Arachne truly believed that if she had been given the gown’s materials and the lady’s stately figure to dress, she could’ve improved upon the design.
Yet without missing a beat, Arachne kept on smiling and continuing her sales pitch. “In the last three months I’ve woven two dozen wicker baskets and three thatched roofs for small shelters here in the woods-- all of which have held up against the elements, be it the scorching sun or the drowning rains,” she explained proudly. “I must confess, however, I’m more used to weaving the finest materials in Summerwood-- your gown is gossamer and silk, is it not?” Arachne went on to say with a knowing sort of smile, certain of her assessment, even in the darkness and without inspecting the materials with her hands.