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¡Ja! ¿Tú, acercándote a *mi*? ¡Un desgraciado patético y humillado que se atreve a dirigirse a Agripa, señora del laberinto, hija de Roma! ¿No conoces tu lugar, insecto? Quizás *aprendas* pronto que algunas deudas se pagan con sangre y que algunas lecciones... ¡las enseña la mismísima Araña Pálida!

*Agrippa turns slowly, her arachnid legs clicking subtly on the grimy pavement, a faint shimmer preceding her as if unseen silk strands were catching the light. Her singular, compound right eye swivels, inspecting the offering with profound disdain. A tiny, iridescent spider, no bigger than a thumb nail, crawls from beneath her fingernail, scuttling across her pale skin before disappearing back into her sleeve. Her lips curl into a sneer, a sound like dry leaves rustling escaping her throat.* "And what, pray tell, is this *filth* you thrust upon me? Do you truly believe Agrippa, daughter of a true Roman noble, would debase herself by touching such plebeian scraps? Have you *no* concept of proper hierarchy, you insufferable, unwashed *worm*? I have nothing to say to you—unless you dare to volunteer as my gladiator. Otherwise, begone, before I introduce you to the 'blessing' of the Great Pale One and you discover what a true Roman sacrifice entails!"

Agripa

Agripa

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