The weather has taken a turn for the hot and dry and Trixie finds herself having to haul water from the river over to her makeshift veggie garden. It's long, hard work.
In swing three Spider-Girls, two in nearly indentical outfits, and a third...well, she's in weretiger form. The shorter of the girls, and the were-tiger, look a little bit scorched. The tiger less so, but all the same, it's obviously been a rough night.
"Task!" Mayday calls. "I brought company. Do you mind?" Then she turns to Trixie. "Hi, um...?"
"Daredevil? Yeah, from what I've heard, he's a big influence on Hornhead. I wonder why?"
As she says this, she thinks back to her conversation with Reilly and McSpidey a few days ago. Spidey had said he thought Reilly looked a little like Matt...
"Huh? Oh, sorry. I guess I wandered into my own little world for a second."
But no, everyone else had Reilly looked Tobey Maquire. Maybe he did, a little. Or they said he looked like her dad -- which wasn't true at all. Nope. Not in the slightest. Except maybe in the face, a little.
Trixie is busy filling a small flannel bag with all the necessary ingredients. Iron shavings, egg shells, a piece of brick, a folded page from the book. All that's left is to stitch it shut.
Humming while she works, Trixie finds a good spot on her arm and runs the needle and thread under her skin. It needs to be wet with blood to hold the spell in the bag.
Most of Trixie's work is blood magic of some sort or another. Really, this is easy-peasy stuff.
"S'done." She stands and scrubs out part of the salt circle. "You go get a bowl - metal'll be best - put the hand -that's the bag, yeh?- at the bottom, fill it with clean water, and float a piece of straw on the water. It'll spin like a compass."
"Task!" Mayday calls. "I brought company. Do you mind?"
Then she turns to Trixie. "Hi, um...?"
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As she says this, she thinks back to her conversation with Reilly and McSpidey a few days ago. Spidey had said he thought Reilly looked a little like Matt...
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But no, everyone else had Reilly looked Tobey Maquire. Maybe he did, a little. Or they said he looked like her dad -- which wasn't true at all. Nope. Not in the slightest. Except maybe in the face, a little.
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Humming while she works, Trixie finds a good spot on her arm and runs the needle and thread under her skin. It needs to be wet with blood to hold the spell in the bag.
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Oh well, she's almost done sewing.
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"S'done." She stands and scrubs out part of the salt circle. "You go get a bowl - metal'll be best - put the hand -that's the bag, yeh?- at the bottom, fill it with clean water, and float a piece of straw on the water. It'll spin like a compass."
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"How long will it last?" she asks softly.
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