One of Entoma's tiny amusements was to always try to observe herself falling asleep, to grasp that impossible to bridge moment between her waking self and sleeping self. But, as with all those before her who tried to grasp hold of that moment, she failed.
And perhaps because she failed, she slept soundly, her body rocking at peace within the web she made for herself, until morning.
When she awoke, the prior day's events came back to her in a flash, and a moment of doubt hit her, the tone Shalltear used, the way the Guardian spoke. Then there was her own… unexpected interest in fashion around a male, the fog of sleep lowered the barrier between her reason and her imagination, bringing up an unexpected question.
'Does… is… Inta interested in me? No, that's absurd.' She thought and the alarming nature of the question brought her completely awake.
Entoma however, could not let the absurd idea go. 'It's only been a few days, okay he showed me around, took me out… wait are those… dates? Did he take 'me' on… no way, is this next one… is that what they call a date?!'
'Don't you do that only with people you want to copulate with?!' Entoma thought, aghast, 'I'm… not even really human, okay we're both predatory species but…?'
There was nobody she could think of to speak to about this.
Nobody but one.
Nobody but one.
'If I could talk to Lord Ainz… he would be ideal. Supreme beings know everything about everything. But he's got an empire to run. Maybe Lupusregina, but she's kind of a pervert, though she does get a lot of observational experience watching the other two perverts go at it, from what she says, it's four times a night, every night. Maybe I'll use her as a backup.'
Entoma considered that and made a mental note about it, then thought of who else, 'Solution maybe… but only if I were going to eat them afterward… although… no, no, there are laws about that kind of thing. CZ might have hard data but that's not what I need.' One by one Entoma went through the list of those she knew and loved best.
And she kept coming back to the one.
'I can always count on Bertra. Wait is… is that what it is? Do I have…?' Entoma wondered when she felt that warm glow in reference to her friend.
A gate spell later, she had herself appear outside the book shop where her friend both lived and worked.
Entoma looked the outside over, the whole building was a tree, a single, living tree that had part of it hollowed out, literally 'grown' to be a residence or business.
'Considering she's a former Scripture of the Theocracy, 'and' a former Cardinal… the last one left alive, she's done pretty well for herself.' Entoma considered that as she looked in through the window of the shop. Row after row of books laid out and there were only a few customers, but there didn't need to be many. The Queen granted her tax exempt status, a show of gratitude and patronage for Bertra's efforts at collecting survivor stories after the war… and rendering service to the woman who broke her own soul to save the elven slaves and bring down vengeance on their oppressors.
So… the shop didn't need many customers, just a steady core. Aspiring writers, avid readers, and drinkers of tea, they tended to frequent the place and it had become a little community hub.
Entoma couldn't smile, but she could feel it, and watching as Bertra sat on a stool behind a series of coin jars, quietly reading a book with one leg over the other, it was hard not to be pleased for her. Bertra reached up and scratched a twitching ear, then turned a page. Customers chatted quietly with one another and Entoma's delicate hearing caught the sound of scratching quills from aspiring writers as far as the back room where they would drink tea and scribble out stories in the hopes of selling books one day.
Entoma waited outside for far longer than she intended, it was pleasant just to watch the first of her outside friends simply live, utterly unconcerned, utterly tranquil in everything she did. The slender elven body moved with a dancer's grace about the occasional task. Every gesture was a delicate motion of perfection.
When Bertra accepted coins, no matter whom it was from, she did it with a smile, and when she returned change, she would always cup the underside of her patron's hand and place the coins into the paying palm so that their hand was briefly covered. "Thank you for coming." She said each time, and meant it.
Entoma stepped aside to let customers out, and when Bertra saw her, the elven face lit up with warmth, she waved, and Entoma, though hesitant for a moment, opened it and entered, the little bell overhead rang a few times behind her while she approached the manager.
"Entoma! I didn't expect to see you so soon!" Bertra said, leaving the space behind the smooth polished wooden counter to come and embrace her friend. "I still have a few hours before closing, but…" Bertra looked around her shop in an instant then pointed to the back room where steam still rose from the teapot in the center of the table.
"Help yourself to some tea, on the house, kill some time until I close if you like, grab a book to read and enjoy." Entoma waved to the back just as a customer approached.
"Of course." Entoma replied and went to the back room, where writers wrote, oblivious to one another, to her, and to the rest of the world. 'How much of their work will ever be read by anyone but themselves?' Entoma wondered, considering how unlikely it seemed to her that anyone would spend the money to publish them, a vast investment in time and money to copy and distribute a single book? 'No, most of them work for hours on things nobody will see, and even if they are seen, some will hate what they create, or them as people for creating it. Only a handful will ever enjoy it, or value it at all. They are either very brave, or very foolish… though I guess they could be both.' Entoma reflected while she poured her own tea and drank the steaming green liquid. 'More sugar.' She thought, and added four spoonfuls before stirring it in and taking another sip. 'Better.' Entoma nodded in satisfaction and watched as Bertra worked.
The elf seemed oblivious to all else, occasionally stepping down to go and help a customer find something they sought, or leading them through a conversation where she recommended a few of her favorite books from different genres.
Every interaction was conducted as if the patron were an old friend that had come by after a long absence.
'She has so many friends… is that what that is? Are they all close friends, but that isn't really fair, is it?' Entoma wondered while Bertra waved goodbye to one after another saying…
"Come again." With a smile before going back to her stool and reading some more.
'I am a created being, created by the supreme ones to serve, to work, to defend their home even if I had to lay down my life… but they also made me more… to enjoy books, foods, and hunting… and I got a friend outside. Shouldn't I feel at home everywhere? Anywhere? And what do I do with these other parts of myself? My maker must have given me those traits for a reason!' Entoma found herself getting worked up, and her heartbeat accelerated like she was back in battle with Keeno and her life was on the line again.
'What do I even say?' Entoma asked of herself and tried to recall what others had done before her. 'The story of the pope goes that her lover just 'went for it' one day after a fight. Renner said something similar once, or so I heard, that the boy just said he didn't want to go and that was that.'
'But I'm a heteromorph, an arachnid type no less, and she's an elf, forget being the same sex, we're not even the same species. Plus I don't even… oh, never mind, here she comes.' Entoma's rapid nervous thoughts and thudding heart went on in secret, though they were given a brief pause by seeing Bertra open the door and whistle. The writers got up, left with polite nods, and when the door was shut and locked with a comfortable click, Bertra approached the back.
"What brings you along today?" Bertra said with a bright wide smile on her face.
"..." Entoma sought words, but couldn't find them. 'Say something? Do something… what do I do next?!'
"One moment…" Bertra said as she opened the top of the porcelain teapot and found it nearly empty, "Let me make a fresh pot, can you wait for a moment?"
"Yes…" Entoma said, and watched as the slender elven woman took up the teapot and, humming a contented bouncy little tune, sashayed her way back to her kitchen to make a fresh pot.
The relief Entoma felt when Bertra unwittingly bought her some time by making tea, was replaced by a heart pounding anxiety while she struggled within herself.
'What do I say, what do I do, what do I want other than help understanding all those things!' Entoma howled in her head, sitting stiff and rigid while her oblivious friend worked at ease, unaware of a crystalizing decision taking place in the room just behind her.