Entoma went to her office and sat at her desk as she intended. She worked on her textbook, scribbling everything she knew about Entomancy from its founding principles and simplest and onward.
Intermittently, she also worked on her lesson plan. The prior sting of the rejection by Bertra however, had not fully faded. On one level she understood, and yet, it stung.
No matter how gentle the offering was refused.
It stung her enough that it made her question more. 'Inta seems very nice, he seems very… comfortable with me, with what I am, but what if I'm misreading him? What if he says no? What if I say the wrong thing…?'
None of those had very pleasant answers, and it turned the corner of some of her eyes toward Harold. "Harold, am I amazing?"
"Yesss…" The golem replied.
"Harold, bring me a cup of tea." Entoma said and pointed to a pot of tea on a small table in the corner of her office.
He began to move in his slow ambling pace, she watched him with detached comfort while he did what she wanted, and continued working on her lesson plan for the semester ahead.
'I don't know how many students I'll have, if any, that will depend on the exhibition…' Entoma reflected, and reaching up to her face, she touched her mask.
'Evileye had to hide her skills behind a mask to keep her life… I'm in no danger but… is the world really that different?' She asked herself the question, and a hint of discomfort touched her youthful soul.
'No one would want you to serve them.' She recalled the words said to her years before.
Entoma hadn't forgotten the apology, or that they were on the same side.
But the sting remained, and her very mask, meant to hide what she was, seemed to reinforce the insult.
Harold approached with a cup of tea and placed it on her desk. True to all the work that had been put into him, he managed the complicated series of tasks that included working out how to carry out her instructions and all the fine motor skills needed to do it.
'They really outdid themselves with you, didn't they?' Entoma thought, and reaching out, she patted the top of the golem's head.
"Good job, Harold." She said and accepted the tea.
'I'd rather have coffee but…' The thought trailed off, the need to preserve the beans she still had outweighed her immediate desire.
She raised the cup to take a sip, then paused. Entoma looked down into the cup, there was no steam. The cup wasn't even warm. There was also no sugar at the bottom of the cup, and no milk or cream. She set the cup down. "Harold, make tea."
Harold stood there staring at her with its snub, stout nose and its brilliant bejeweled eyes reflecting her face back at her.
"Harold, you want to please me, don't you?" Entoma asked as gently as she could manage.
"Yesss…" He answered.
"Then, make tea." Entoma repeated the command.
Harold only kept his face on hers, arms limp at his side and unmoving.
"I… never mind, we need to go." Entoma said and gathered her things, 'Inta likely plans to come by my office… I don't…' Entoma stopped thinking and started moving.
However, she didn't go back to her apartment.
Down the hall and out onto the grounds she went, the bright sky was empty but for the sea of blue, in the nearby tree a few birds chirped, inviting Entoma to dine whether they knew it or not.
The grass was short and neatly trimmed and various students made themselves comfortable all over the large open grassy campus. Some were coming, others were going, few teachers were to be seen during that hour of the day.
Entoma's mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, her arachnid instincts however, gave her one clear direction. Off campus, to one of the larger parks that made up various districts around the capital city.
The busy streets filled with busy people should have set her a little on edge in her current mood, instead she was content to think of them as a way to 'blend'. Though most of them were taller than herself, and none had a golem following along behind. She drew a few funny looks, but full of their own concerns, the brightly, even flamboyantly dressed citizens of Arwintar ignored her altogether after nothing more than a glance of curiosity.
Occasionally a merchant on a corner who couldn't afford a full shop, hawked wares that Entoma had no real interest in. Old men, young men, and dark elves were exceptionally common sights. At first that was cause for confusion.
'Right… they used to be slaves here… it makes sense some would choose to stay.' Entoma recalled, and tried to let her mind go blank until she reached the entrance to a large open park with thick trees that lined the walkways and reached up as high as the tallest trees in Crescent Lake. The great high canopy above was a gift between the Elf Kingdom's current Queen and the Baharuth Empire, most capitals had at least a few to mark a symbol of the unity of nations.
It was, in a word, perfect. Entoma stood on a small rocky path, she craned her neck to look up at the great thick trunk and the branches each of which was wide enough and long enough to have held a small house with room to spare. For her, it was only a tool for her own comfort.
With no one around, she held out her hand to her golem. "Harold, take my hand." She said, and he immediately obeyed, it was a satisfying sense of warmth to feel his stoney, cool hand on hers when he did as she said. She then moved aside her mask, tilted her head back, and shot her thick white webbing high up into the branches of the tree.
The thick green leaves rustled, a few came loose and began their slow descent to the ground far below. Wafting back and forth on the breeze until she shot past them, pulled with the aid of her web, she knocked the little green leaves out of her way and caused the branch to rustle again as she shot past it. She then alighted delicately on the tree, landing with the tip of one foot first, and then placing both her other foot, and Harold, down on the branch.
A steady smell of greenery and trees filled the air around her and the hard, thick bark promised strength and stability enough that even without her webbing and agility she would have been comfortable. She set her back to the tree and sat down, then broke out her writing equipment and went back to work. 'Nobody will bother me here!' She declared, 'Just me and Harold. Harold and me. Harold and I?' She wondered, and then asked, "Which is it, Harold? Harold and me, me and Harold, or Harold and I?"
He only stared with his unbreakable expression.
"Don't feel like talking?" She asked.
Harold just stared.
"You're right, no time to talk! I need to make this more comfortable for a bit!" She exclaimed and began to spread webbing about, creating an intricate array of artistic representations
Entoma remained up in that tree for two straight days. 'The birds here…' She spat out her webbing and struck a large beaked bird with wings almost the span of her arms and long, sharp talons. The webbing hit and stuck to the bird at the breast and she yanked it back toward herself. The wings of the bird, so broad, so majestic, went over its head making it look absurdly like it was about to cheer, but only a momentary squawk escaped its majestic beak before Entoma was crunching on it, bones and all. 'They are delicious.' She thought as she swallowed her latest prey.
When not snacking on birds or listening to the scratch of quill over paper, she worked on her web while asking, "What do you think, Harold?" She extended an arm out with pride, her flowing dress concealed her false insectoid hands as she gestured at the web shaped face of the Sorcerer King.
"Isn't that a masterful work of art? Even Shalltear would praise me, wouldn't she?" Entoma asked while looking down at the little golem.
"Yess…" He answered.
And that hit the crux of the problem.
It ate at her.
"Harold, kiss my feet." Entoma commanded.
Without question, the golem went down and pressed what only the loosest definition would call 'lips' to her shoes.
"Harold, am I perfect?" Entoma asked again.
"Yesss…" He answered.
"Harold…" She trailed off, he looked up at her, "Stand up."
He slowly stood.
"Harold, hop." She ordered, and Harold began to make little hops that shook the tree nest.
"Harold, do you like food?" She asked.
No answer was forthcoming.
Her anxiety however, was.
"Harold, you now like food." She commanded.
"I. Liiiike. Fooood." He answered in his slow, steady monotone that eventually hit a slightly higher pitch.
Entoma's inability to frown did not leave her unable to think of her displeasure, all her eyes narrowed down at the jewel eyed golem that reflected her face back at her.
"You really don't have any thoughts of your own, do you?" Entoma asked.
Harold looked at her and an eternity of silence filled the gap.
"Noooo." He finally said.
Entoma shivered with sudden, furious rage, catching herself by surprise when she saw the eyes that reflect her image back to her, and saw them for the empty things they truly were. "No! I didn't!" She shouted as she began to understand. "You weren't supposed to be just a moving doll!"
The little clues fell into place, it hadn't known how to prepare tea or even to reheat it. It could answer simple questions but nothing of itself. It was simply following its design, and every bit of pleasure she took in what she'd thought, turned to ashes. She rushed to the golem and crouched down, frantic, urgent.
"Tell me something about yourself!" She exclaimed, shaking it so hard that the leaves around her began to rattle loose from the branches, their rustling like that of angry snakes whose nests had been disturbed.
"What's your favorite color?!"
"What do you think of me?!"
"What do you think of your creators?!"
The more she asked, the more Entoma wanted to close all of her eyes and not see any of what she was seeing out of it right now. Her eyes closed and stayed that way, she grabbed the golem and began to shake it.
Harold put up no resistance, he was bound to obey her, and so he did, what she did was right and proper, and it only made her madder by the moment. "You won't even fight back! You're just a damn doll, aren't you?!" She spat with vicious anger and released her hold on the golem.
He tipped backward near the edge of the tree limb, "Yessss…" It said as it fell.
It was the rustling and breaking of one of the smaller branches that made Entoma realize what was happening, she darted to the edge and poked her head out of the leaves to look down just in time to see Harold's limp arms and legs lifted up by the air as if he were reaching for help, just before his body hit the ground with a heavy cracking noise, and broke into pieces before her watching eyes.