[Summit Springs]

While Riss might reason that Misha very likely already had plenty of up-to-date samples, she wasn't going to deny that she rather enjoyed her nereid's methods. "Whichever is most comfortable for you, Vitae." she said with a light smirk at the very deliberate speech. She had sounded rather similar when she first began getting used to the changes as well. Still, it was evident that she felt more at ease now with the few other forms getting back up and resuming what they had been tinkering with or, as was the case with the form that had led Misha here, wheeling up a chair as the nereid made the motions of looking for a place to sit. ...The strangest thing about this now is that while I'm used to seeing myself at this point, it's like looking at a part of me that hasn't been linked up now. Pulling up two more similar chairs for the pair of forms currently attending to 'Rissha,' Riss simply sat with her elbows on her knees and her chin in her hands as she waited and watched for her fey's reactions.

Though it wasn't like suddenly gaining knowledge, it would be as if connections between things were easily made; like pieces of a puzzle having some hidden extra side that fit together simply by looking at them with a different perspective. Association and derivation felt more fluid as if they were apart of a well oiled machine. Not just more fluid either but quicker and in greater numbers as if her mind were a spider weaving a web of thoughts to catch little flies of experience and drain them of what delicious fluid knowledge they had within them. Each new strand rippled and vibrated so her ethereal legs could tell just where in her net she had caught her thrashing prey, allowing her to descend upon them at her leisure to deliver their doom. Yet the spider was not quite one born with it's sisters from an egg sack but bred to spin and catch and eat in ways superior than some lowly garden-born arachnid. The webs she wove rippled and bounced with each little fly in a way that might be overwhelming simply due to the bounty she could catch. It danced like a cheery flame and with legs unused to such a vibrant topography, she might feel almost as if she would be shaken off were she not careful.

Yet, should she cast her spinners out to hang below the web, allowing it to come to a gentle rest as it collected the heavy dew of the night, she might find that her weaving had been strung with more anchors than she might find in a more typical mind. Certainly there were the leaves and blades of grass for the base wants and needs, each a seemingly peripheral yet necessary component to keep her web from being buffeted or blown away by the elements but there would be a few that might be unfamiliar or perhaps simply strange in their placement. One she might readily recognize, at least, was one inherent to her own being although she might feel inclined to liken it to a strong tree in comparison to what she found here. Her earliest encounter with it would have marked this anchor point as to a withering, nearly dead sapling although now it was a healthy timber with what signs of wilting still present being offset by the blooms within it's branches. Another that would be more alien, though, didn't seem to be entirely there, as if it were missing a component that it was trying to fill by her presence but it was as if the key didn't quite match the lock. Yet, that didn't seem to halt it's influence entirely as the thrumming it sent through it's anchor, the connection there being made with surprisingly strong and sticky thread, was soft but incessant. It felt perhaps like it were similar to the needs she was familiar, or at least recognize, with but that was as far as the similarity would go as it held a strangely powerful influence over her web as if it were gently trying to shape the web's form... Creating a funnel for dew and prey to fall towards it, almost. In a way, she might want to think of it as an addiction as it had such a similar itch but looking at it so closely would likely only bring confusion as she might feel as, while it served it's function as a paragon of anchors, it was as if it were either forced or repaired to be this way although the change had been made so far back that whatever disturbance had caused it was now long vanished and consumed by the nature around her. And yet now that she knew of it, the thrumming through the web, as if some kind of metronome, could not be ignored. The thrashings of a fly would only overtake it for a time and even then it's measured ripple could still be picked out amidst the random noise. It was a strange, constant comfort but the longer that corner of the web went bare, the more the thrumming seemed to prey upon the gossamer strands that held it together. Each shake came with it knowledge that it could be quieted, if for a time, or even made to bring more than simple peace but... Not what could be done.

And still it trembled again. And again. And again.

And again.

And again.

And again...

Maybe... Maybe if that bit of web were to be plucked by a stray drop of dew or maybe if she were to shape her web so as to collect more prey around it, she could somehow quiet the thrumming.. But what would that be? And still it trembled again. And again. And again..