Chapter 12
Wandering the quiet halls of the house, Dolly tried to think of what it could do to fix things. An obvious solution was to encourage the Creator and Aela to spend more time together. The golem could see how they each lessened one another's suffering just by being in close proximity with each other. How much more effective would it be if Markus and Aela were in a relationship like Robert and Lindsay? They already looked at one another in a remarkably similar way, so what else was needed to progress their relationship to that level?
Was a relationship like that something the Creator wanted? Surely it was, Dolly had heard Abigail expressing her jealousy over Lindsay’s relationship on a number of occasions, so it obviously held desirable value. However, the Creator was not Abigail and all too often he separated himself from the others in the house.
Dolly found itself standing outside Arlee’s room. Protecting Arlee had been simple. Driven by dormant emotions, each decision had been obvious, easy. The golem had known exactly what to do in each moment, the required actions presenting themselves as self-evident empirical truths. But this was different, Dolly didn't know what to do and no answers were presenting themselves to fill that void.
Leaving Arlee’s room behind, Dolly slowly made its way down the first-floor staircase. The golem wanted to help Aela and Creator, but it couldn't, and the frustration was scratching away incessantly inside its mind.
Again and again, Dolly’s thoughts returned not to Aela and the Creator, but to Arlee and the Badger. Dolly could feel a metaphorical pit growing inside its chest. Unlike the tactile sensations of its body, the pit sent tremors of pain through the golem’s body, consuming everything in its wake.
Dolly wanted to stop it but didn’t know how to do that either. Staring at its hands, the golem was surprised to find that they were trembling. What was this? Dolly collapsed to its knees and nearly toppled down the stairs.
Unsure of how long it had lain there on the stairs, Dolly returned to its senses again, the pain that had seemed so intense moments ago was now all but gone. Slowly getting to its feet, Dolly heard a noise coming from the dining room.
Stealthily making its way down the stairs, Dolly prowled closer to the dining-room door, taking note of how it had been left slightly ajar. Peeking through the gap, the golem was surprised to find that the sound had not been coming from the dining room, but the kitchen and that its door had been left open much the same as the dining room had been.
More curious than cautious, Dolly rapidly moved across the dining room floor, taking a shortcut under the table and between the chair legs. The golem could hear it more clearly now, whatever it was, the sound was playing havoc with Dolly’s mind, emotions the golem had only experienced through the medium of memory were running wild.
The Creator was sitting with his back to the door, the final strain of a haunting melody passing over his lips before he seemed to come back to himself.
Dolly felt the last of the pain evaporate as if it had never been there in the first place. The golem had heard that tune before, or part of it at least. It was from one of the Creator's fragmented memories, it was Badger’s song.
Dolly didn't know what to do. Three days had passed and the golem had gone through the motions during daylight hours, engaging with and protecting Arlee and Abigail. Spending the night hours trying to recover and more completely recall the memories of the girl Creator called Badger.
The exercise was inherently painful, the only means available that provided even the smallest chance of recovery was Creator’s melody.
Dolly was discouraged. So far, all the golem had managed to recover was more of the memory fragment housing the melody itself.
*****
Revisiting the memory, Dolly waited for the world to stabilize. Just like all the other memories, a scene would be played out by shadowy actors on a fragile stage surrounding Creator. Wherever he would go, so too would the stage and Dolly along with it.
Creator stood at the threshold of Badger’s dark domain, the interior dimly lit by a screen similar to Creator’s Monitor artifice. A familiar picture of Badger’s namesake was prominently displayed on its surface. The room was otherwise littered with discarded clothing, strangely lifelike dolls and arcane objects Dolly could not identify.
The haunting melody was emanating from a collar around Badger’s neck. It was quiet, only able to be heard because of the silence. Bundled in a thick blanket and sitting in a strange chair, Badger herself was nearly hidden from sight entirely, only the lower half of her face and neck remaining visible.
Creator knocked on the open door to get Badger’s attention.
The melody halted abruptly, “What do you want?” Badger’s voice emanated from the collar just as the melody had done, but the sound was distorted or somehow damaged, just like the melody itself.
“Just checking in to make sure you are alright,” Creator sounded worried, “I’ll put some of this through the wash as well while I am here, okay?”
When Badger made no reply, Creator began gathering up the nearest of the discarded clothes and piling them into a basket. When the basket was full, he retreated to the door again, “Is there anything else? Maybe I can-”
“Leave me alone,” Badger had spoken barely louder than a whisper, her corrupted voice carrying easily in the empty quiet of her room.
Creator raised his free hand, “I just w-”
“GET OUT,” Badger growled menacingly.
Creator lowered his hand placatingly, “Alright, I’ll leave the clothes outside the door once they are washed and dried alright?”
Badger didn't reply.
Sighing somewhat dejectedly, Creator reached for the door handle and began closing the door behind himself as he left but stopped for a moment, “I love you ####,” Creator said softly, bracing himself for the expected reaction. The damaged memory had rendered the final word unintelligible.
A silence hung between them for a moment and Creator’s guard tentatively lowered.
“I hate you,” Badger had spoken so quietly that Creator had probably barely heard her. After a short pause, the melody began playing again.
“I know,” Creator whispered as he closed the door, “I know...”
The memory rapidly unravelled after that point, the stage dissipating like streams of smoke in the wind.
*****
Dolly was left with the impression that it had been one of the last times that Creator and Badger had spoken. The memory was important, but the golem couldn't understand why.
This particular fragment did not seem to serve any greater purpose than to perpetuate pain. Even still, Dolly found itself returning, again and again.
Was this the same for Creator? Did he seek out the memory only to experience the hollowing pain brought on by this memory? Or was it a desire to seek out the familiar in a land where he would forever see himself as a stranger?
Dolly could find no answers that would satisfy the ever-mounting demands of its curiosity. The golem was left with little choice but to accept that at least for now, the melody and its accompanying memory would need to be their own reward.
There was one thing from the memory that Dolly knew was valuable. The golem had spent the better part of the following day revisiting and evaluating the memory and more specifically the collar Badger had worn around her neck. Subsequent visits had confirmed what Dolly had only initially suspected.
The collar Badger wore was not just the source of her voice but was very likely the cause as well. The golem could not be absolutely certain, but it had managed to spy a large scar beneath the collar. Dolly theorised that the injury had very likely stolen her speech, so Creator had made an artifice to return it to her.
Somehow, the collar was enchanted to allow it to speak on her behalf in a similar fashion to how the tablets and monitor carried and recorded words for Dolly and Creator. With this idea in mind, the golem thought it might be worth approaching Creator to fashion such a voice collar for Dolly’s own use. However, the problem was determining how the collar allowed speech in the first place, then to figure out how it could be enchanted to function as intended.
Another hurdle was presented by the knowledge of these memories themselves. An unwritten command prevented Dolly from communicating the contents or existence of the fragmented memories to Creator directly or even indirectly. The golem had realized this when attempting to compose a note on such a subject, only for Dolly's mind to come to a grinding halt.
So with things in an altogether precariously dangerous periphery of Dolly’s mind, the golem attempted even more indirect means. Dolly prepared a handwritten treatise on the collar and its supposed enchantments, making no reference to where the ideas and inspirations came from or what the golem desired to use it for. Dolly was particularly careful to keep certain aspects vague, probably more than was necessary, but the golem was taking no chances.
After two hours of agonizingly slow progress, stopping and restarting over and over again, Dolly finally had the finished letter folded and tucked away inside of one of Creator’s as of yet untouched Artificing books. With the letter stashed away, Dolly had no real idea when or even if Creator would find it. However, this had been the best compromise the golem could think of and the best the unknown command would allow.
Dolly made sure to leave Creator’s room just as he had left it but secretly hoped that perhaps today, after he returned from stamina training downstairs, Creator would decide to pick up the book and find the letter the golem had left for him. Because if it worked...Dolly averted the thought at the last moment, unsure of whether the command would retroactively force the golem to take corrective measures. Dolly quickly pulled the door shut and made its way downstairs, putting as much distance between itself and the letter, just in case.
Around midday, large parcels and bundles of goods were delivered to the house. The majority of the contents appeared to be fabrics, threads and cord of varying thickness, quality and colour, not that Dolly could differentiate them that well.
While initially quite excited and curious, Arlee soon grew less enthusiastic as her mother Abigail insisted on teaching her the basics of sewing.
“I caaaaaan’t doooo it!” Arlee groaned, dropping the small handful of pins back onto the table.
“Arlee,” Abigail’s tone caused Arlee to freeze.
“Mama, I can’t do it!” Arlee insisted, picking up a pin and making a dramatic and overly clumsy attempt at pinning the cut panels of fabric together, with predictably poor results, “Seeee?” Arlee groaned while rolling herself back in her seat.
Dolly had to agree that Arlee was not well suited to the craft. Moving into position, the golem held the fabric, raising it slightly off the table and gestured for Arlee to try again.
“Try again Arlee, see, your Dolly wants to help.” Abigail nodded in Dolly’s direction, unable to spare her hands at that moment as she was partway through a particularly important cut.
“Ohhhhh-kay,” Arlee relented and picked up one of the discard pins. Though not particularly proficient, between the two of them, Dolly and Arlee were making decent progress.
Over the next hour, Abigail cut and arranged fabric panels for three dresses and a customized work apron. Unknown to Abigail, who was absorbed in her work, and unnoticed by Arlee, who had made a game of testing her mother’s patience by working as slowly as she could get away with, Aela had been watching Abigail work for the past twenty or so minutes.
“Excuse me,” Aela entered the workshop proper, “Could you teach me this?” She gestured to the dress fabrics Abigail was fussing over to get just right.
Abigail looked as if she would refuse out of hand, but changed her mind. “You wish to learn to sew?” She asked.
Aela shook her head, “No I know how to sew, but dresses, clothes, this is something my mother did not teach.”
Abigail considered this for a moment before asking another question, “Why do you want to learn?”
Aela looked down, somewhat embarrassed, “I would like to know how to make my own clothes. I did not bring many clothes and merchants do not sell clothes that fit well.” Her tail began lazily trailing back and forth behind her as if to accentuate the primary source of her dilemma.
A lengthy silence passed between them as Abigail considered her options.
Worried that Abigail was going to refuse, Aela ducked out of the workshop briefly before returning with a jingling coin pouch remarkably similar to Creator’s own. “I can pay to learn,” she insisted, deliberately jostling the pouch to entice Abigail.
Now, this had Abigail’s attention. She deliberated in silence for a full minute before giving her answer, “Alright,” Abigail agreed, “Twopence a day and you pay for your own supplies, agreed?”
“Agreed,” Aela replied quickly, no doubt afraid Abigail would change her mind. “Erm pence is this one?” She withdrew two copper coins from the pouch.
“Mhm,” Arlee agreed enthusiastically, “And twenty pennies makes a whole shilling” she giggled, “Shilling is the shiny silver one!” Arlee was proud of her mercantile aptitude, “And, um, and eleven-”
“Twelve” Abigail corrected kindly.
Arlee didn't skip a beat, “-twelve shillings make a pretty gold crown!”
Aela smiled awkwardly at Arlee for a moment before she withdrew a shilling and handed it to Abigail, “You will teach me now?” Aela asked nervously.
Abigail took Aela’s shilling and tucked it away in one of her pockets. “Alright, take a seat,” she leaned down and ruffled Arlee’s hair, “Arlee, maybe it’s time you and Dolly took a little break and played downstairs.”
In stark contrast to less than a minute before, Arlee was now practically brimming with enthusiasm and energy, “But Mama I want to learn dresses,” she complained.
Dolly understood the sudden change in motivation. Even now, Arlee’s eyes were tracking Aela’s tail back and forth like a cat watching a mouse.
Aela took her designated seat or tried to. “Sorry, need to change seats,” Aela apologized as she stood back up and moved the chair aside. Her tail had left little room for her to actually sit on the chair because of its slatted back support. To remedy this issue, Aela briefly left the workshop before returning again, now effortlessly dragging along the linen chest from her room. Casually shoving the linen chest into position, Aela smiled apologetically then took her seat at the table again.
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“Okay,” Abigail set down her tailor’s shears and moved her current work aside. “Tell me, what do you already know how to do?”
Aela fidgeted uncomfortably, “Not much, only how to fix with patches or wound stitches.”
Abigail seemed at a loss for a moment, “Wound stitches? Erm, hang on a moment.” Abigail gathered up small errant cuttings she had carefully set aside for later use.
“It is done with bent needle, like a hook, and the needle is bent so you can hook under-” Aela explained enthusiastically before being suddenly interrupted.
Abigail blanched, “Erm no need for more of that, here,” she pushed across two small pieces of fabric, a needle, a strange metal cap that matched the one she wore on her own thumb and a bundle of thread, “Show me this, er, wound stitch.”
Aela smiled nervously again before turning her attention to the task at hand, threading the needle.
“Wait,” Abigail interrupted. “You should put on the...” she paused and reconsidered “Actually I’m not sure if you really need to” she looked pointedly at Aela’s scaled skin for a moment then shrugged. “Thread the needle and loop the thread back again, like this,” Abigail demonstrated the difference between what she was doing and what Aela had attempted to do.
Dolly’s attention shifted from the adults back to Arlee again, and it was perhaps just as well the golem had.
Arlee had slid off her chair and was crawling under the workshop table, giggling quietly to herself, no doubt proud of her accomplishment in going unnoticed.
Dolly had to admit that Arlee did indeed seem to have a gift for going unnoticed when she wanted to.
Two mornings prior, Dolly had watched the little girl slip down the stairs and into the kitchen where Lindsay and Abigail were preparing breakfast. Arlee had timed her approach and retreat so that neither woman had noticed as Arlee stole away with a pair of scones, one stuffed in her mouth and the other clutched tightly in her hand. Dolly had only noticed because the golem had been following Arlee since she left her room that morning.
Normally Dolly would have liked to watch and learn a new skill, but the golem ultimately decided that keeping an eye on Arlee was more important. Besides, Dolly reasoned that it had observed enough of Abigail’s preparation work that missing a few minutes would prove little impediment to future learning.
Hopping onto the floor to keep an eye on Arlee, Dolly attracted little attention from the adults either. Arlee had already crawled to the far end of the table, most likely to approach from a less conspicuous angle.
Arlee crept to the far wall and noticed Dolly following her, she raised a finger to her lips conspiratorially, “Shh,” Arlee whispered, then pointed to Aela’s tail. She waited for Aela and Abigail to begin talking again and moving closer.
“Ah, a blanket stitch,” Abigail remarked, “A strong stitch, of course.”
Arlee began creeping forward, knowing that her mother would be distracted and that she would soon be beyond Aela’s peripheral vision.
“Right,” Aela agreed, “Keeps pieces together until the body fixes them,” her tail began slowly undulating back and forth across the floor.
“Okay, do you know how to pick a stitch?” Abigail asked.
“Erm, what is...” Aela’s tail slowed but did not fully stop.
“Like this,” Abigail said, likely providing an example of what she meant.
“Oh,” Aela exclaimed, “Remove again? No, not like that.”
Arlee moved in closer, so close now that she could probably reach out and grab Aela’s tail and perhaps that was what she intended.
“It’s important to know how,” Abigail explained, “Sometimes you mess up a stitch or need to fix a line, or even just salvage some thread from a garment you no longer need or perhaps want to alter or repurpose. This skill can save a woman a lot of coins when done correctly and no self-respecting mother would go without it.”
“R-really?” Aela’s tail shivered momentarily then began waving faster.
“Of course. No two children are the same and they grow like weeds besides. imagine the costs of buying brand new clothes each month for each child, ruinous, all the more so when you have perfectly serviceable fabric malingering in a chest, cabinet or wardrobe. With even minor adjustments you can have your first child’s old clothes fitting smartly on even your youngest.” Abigail stated matter of factly with no small measure of pride.
“You will teach me this?” Aela asked, although her excited and earnest tone made it come across more like a demand than a request.
“That is what we are doing,” Abigail agreed cordially. She seemed much more at ease around Aela now than she had been only a few minutes before.
Arlee had moved in even closer, her head panning back and forth in rhythm with the motion of Aela’s tail. “Pretty,” Arlee giggled quietly.
Dolly moved in closer, mirroring Arlee’s stooped stance, eliciting another wave of giggling. Arlee always seemed to enjoy this sort of play. Basic mimicry of her own behaviour had proven an easy source of entertainment and distraction for Arlee.
“Now this is a running stitch, you probably won't use it much. In my experience, it is mostly used for attaching pieces that don't require much strength or expect to take much strain,“ Abigail paused, likely to demonstrate her point, “And this is a running back stitch. It’s stronger, but still not a very good stitch for most pieces of work. Now you have a try.”
Aela nodded and hunched over her fabrics again.
Now near the back of Aela’s linens chest, Arlee boldly ran her fingers over the thicker plated and ridged scales that ran down the spine of Aela’s tail. The scales were probably too thick for Aela to feel it, or perhaps she was too engrossed in her sewing lesson to notice because she showed no signs of agitation. Emboldened, Arlee gently poked and scratched at the scales with her fingers.
“Like this?” Aela asked, holding up the two overlapping segments of fabric now held together by an intermittent line of thread down their middle.
“Hrm, yes that’s the general idea, but you need to ideally maintain a standard spacing between stitches. With good linen like this, you can accurately judge your spacing by counting the crossed threads,” there was another brief pause, “See?”
“Oh!” Aela exclaimed, suddenly rising from her seat and looking behind her.
Arlee froze, her outstretched hand and finger only having just retracted from poking the smaller scales on the underside of Aela’s tail.
Aela’s face shifted from surprise to anger, confusion, bewilderment and unease each in rapid succession. “Did you poke me?” She asked defensively.
“Arlee!” Abigail scolded before Arlee even had a chance to respond.
Arlee balked, and quickly ducked under the table, “Sorry, sorry!” She gibbered, now frantically skittering across and away from both Aela and her mother.
“Arlee! Come back here this instant!” Abigail demanded.
“Sorry!” Arlee repeated, now out from under the table and bolting as fast as her legs would carry her out of the room.
That was another thing Dolly had noticed, Arlee could really move when she wanted to. The golem attributed it to a profound recklessness combined with a nearly unnatural surefootedness usually attributed to felines.
“It's alright,” Aela raised her hands to try and calm Abigail down, “Just startled is all.” she looked nervously between the open door and Abigail, “Really, it’s fine.”
Abigail let out a frustrated sigh “Even so, it is still a very rude thing to do! I really must give her a stern talking-to later,” she shook her head in dismay, “I really am sorry Ms Aela."
Aela smiled awkwardly “Is not Ms, just Aela,” she corrected.
“I’m sorry?” Abigail apologised, clearly not understanding what Aela meant.
“Aela is mine, uh, my own name, Svalatochter is, erm, family name. So Aela would be Ms Svalatochter?” Aela explained nervously, unsure of her correction.
”Oh,” Abigail sat back down and shook her head slightly, “It is acceptable to use the first name as well, the title is added just to show that you acknowledge their married status,” her explanation didn't seem to have the desired effect.
Aela grew more embarrassed and nervous, “Oh, so many new things to learn, so confusing.”
Abigail nodded her head slightly, “If you don't mind my asking, Markus said your mother’s name was Svala?”
Aela nodded.
“Did your grandparents give her a family name?” Abigail asked.
“Yes?” Aela answered, perhaps unsure of whether she understood the question properly, “Mother's family name is Frejatochter, named for her mother.”
This was obviously not the answer Abigail had expected, “I’m sorry, what? Shouldn't your family names be the same?”
Aela shook her head, “No, in the north, family names are given for their mothers. Svala is my mother, and I am her daughter, so my family name is Svalatochter and it is the same for my siblings.”
Abigail said nothing, but clearly did not seem to understand.
“It is common for parents to die and survivors to seek out new partners,” Aela blushed, “A-a-and it is sometimes difficult to know who a child’s father is, b-but it is always known who the mother is, s-s-so tradition makes a child named for mother...” Aela was now desperately avoiding eye contact and wringing her hands together.
“Oh...” Abigail replied simply, the bluntness of the naming scheme and its purpose now abundantly clear. “In the empire, you are not permitted to have a family name without a noble title in the family. It can make finding people and establishing a reputation...difficult.”
Dolly didn't have any more time to observe the cultural exchange between Aela and Abigail. Arlee had been given a sufficiently large enough head start already.
This was another one of Arlee’s favourite games, hide-and-find. Arlee would make Dolly look away and wait while she ran away and hid somewhere in the house, then the golem was expected to go find her. A simple enough game to understand, it had nonetheless proven somewhat difficult to master.
Arlee managed to avoid being found for over an hour just the day before, a truly remarkable achievement given the limited number of locations she could hide in the finite space of the house.
The trick, as Dolly had later learned, was Arlee’s refusal to stay in a single hiding place during the course of the game. She had expertly played the golem’s own inexhaustible and methodical nature against itself. All Arlee had to do was slip past Dolly once and she would be all but guaranteed another ten to fifteen minutes of remaining hidden before needing to make the attempt again.
Dolly had tried shifting tactics to better compensate for Arlee’s elusive gambits. However, this had only made it easier for her to relocate to better hiding places because Dolly could not look in all directions at once and Arlee only needed a few seconds to slip past while the golem's attention was elsewhere.
“-learning to read is important, Arlee,” Creator’s voice drifted from the gap under the door to his room, “You can't just go running off every time you get bored okay?”
This was how Dolly had learned of Arlee’s relocation strategies in the first place. Its one particular vulnerability was the other occupants of the house. Unlike Dolly, who knew the rough location of every adult in the house because of the emergency communication tablets kept on them at all times. Arlee held no such advantage and had stumbled into her mother, who in turn had given her a stern reprimand for skulking about, which had made it all too easy for Dolly to home in on her location.
“Wasn’t letter lessons,” Arlee loudly whispered churlishly.
“Oh?” Creator replied, “Then why are you hiding in my room during lesson time?”
“Ummmmm,” Arlee clearly didn’t know what to say.
Dolly climbed the door frame, leaned down on the door handle and pushed to open the door.
Arlee spun about and quickly dove under Creator’s bed.
Creator at first had looked towards the door, but only seeing Dolly, he then looked curiously in the direction of the underside of his bed. “What’s going on?” He demanded.
Dolly Obedient: “Dolly is engaged in the game [Hide-and-Find] with Arlee, who is presently hiding under Creator’s bed.”
Creator groaned and rubbed at his forehead, “I know what the game is, I wanted to know why you are playing it during lesson time. I thought I gave you an order not to play those games when she is meant to be learning to read and write.”
Dolly Smug: “Dolly and Arlee were not interrupting [Reading-and-Writing] lessons. Arlee was excused from lessons by Abigail for lessons in sewing. Arlee was later excused from [Sewing] lessons by Abigail so she could provide [Sewing] lessons to Aela. Arlee engaged in the game [Hide-and-Find] after an altercation involving Aela’s tail.”
Creator’s eyes narrowed, “What did she do? Was Aela upset? How is Abigail taking this?”
Dolly Curious: “Aela was undertaking [Sewing] lessons while Arlee was engaged in petting and poking Aela’s tail without Aela’s knowledge. Aela became upset when Arlee poked too hard. Arlee then began an unannounced game of [Hide-and-Find]. Aela and Abigail were both initially surprised, but returned to Aela’s [Sewing] lesson.”
“Alright, Arlee? You wait here, I'm going to go see what the other side of this is, alright? Please don't touch anything on my desk while I'm away,” Creator stated anxiously.
Creator had justifiable cause to be concerned and explicitly warn Arlee away from his desk. She had walked off with things before that she had initially found interesting, then abandoned them after losing interest, with no real idea of where she had last had them.
Dolly wandered over to the bed and stood where the golem knew Arlee could see it, then tapped the melody that served as the golem’s agreed-upon signal for having found her and won the game.
Arlee wriggled out from under the bed, “Silly Dolly we weren't playing that time!” She pouted.
This was another thing Dolly had noticed, Arlee often pouted when she was found so early in the game, even more so when one of the adults inadvertently gave away her position. Cheating is what Arlee had called it, adamantly insisting that it didn't count and the game would need to be started over.
Arlee quickly grew restless, clambering up onto Creator’s bed and surveying the room for anything she could play with. Inevitably, her attention locked onto the desk. Hopping down off the bed, Arlee climbed onto Creator’s chair and began poking about the objects on the desk.
Unlike Dolly, Arlee was under no restraint to disobey an order or request made of her. In fact, Arlee often seemed to treat it as an invitation or direction to act instead.
“Woah...” Arlee explained breathlessly, knocking aside a number of items that promptly fell to the floor. She reached farther across the desk and dragged something closer, “So weird...” Arlee lifted the object off the desk. giving Dolly its first look at the item in question.
It was a sheet of parchment with a number of rudimentary sketches. Best as Dolly could tell, it seemed to be a dismantled arm and hand that was similar but also very different from the golem’s own.
Unlike Dolly’s limbs, which were solid pieces of wood connected by rotating joints, the sketches were far more similar to the insides of a human, but not quite. Rigid rods replacing bone, strings or cord of some kind in place of sinew, all seemingly encased in a shell mimicking somewhat human musculature curves.
Creator was not an artist, there was no flair or excess in this design, only what was essential to the functions themselves. Similar but smaller sketches resembling the one Arlee now held had been knocked to the floor. Inspecting one of these, Dolly found their lines to be far less precise and measured, often wavering or smudged as if drawn by an unsteady hand.
“Oops!” Arlee had put the sketch back on the desk and knocked something else over.
A wave of Ink began running over the edge of the desk, without having the vantage point to see, Dolly knew that Arlee had just spilled an ink vial over Creator’s sketch and quite a number of other things besides.
Dolly was about to act when the door opened.
“Arlee it's alr-oh no nonononono what did you do?!” Creator rushed into the room, righting the inkwell and snatched up his blotting cloth and began frantically mopping at the ink.
Arlee slipped off the chair and huddled in a corner, confused and frightened, she began to cry.
Creator stopped what he was doing and released a short exasperated sigh, then he smiled. “It’s alright Arlee, I’m not mad, there's no need to cry.” He walked towards Arlee but left enough of a space that if she wanted to, Arlee could run past him outside his reach and out the door. Kneeling down, Creator held his arms open to embrace her, “It’s okay, I can replace it, just don’t cry okay?”
Arlee shied back at first but then rushed into Creator’s outstretched arms, “I-I-I-m-m-s-s-s-o-ry-heee,” she sobbed pitiably.
“I know, you didn't mean to, it's alright,” Creator gently patted her head.
A fragmented memory came unbidden to Dolly’s mind, an echo of sorts. Only in Arlee’s place was a much younger Badger, the floor not marred with ink but with a stew or soup. Just as quickly as the fragment arrived, it disappeared again.
Dolly was frustrated that it could not directly inform Creator of the memory, but this lessened somewhat as the golem took note of Creator’s eyes. It had only been for a moment, but Dolly had seen it, the surge of mana in his eyes. It did not seem like a coincidence, somehow Creator’s mana and abilities were linked to these memories. And If Creator’s mana was linked to these memories, then so was Dolly.
“Arlee, are you feeling better?” Creator’s voice sounded a little strained.
“Mmm,” Arlee mumbled noncommittally, pressing harder against Creator’s chest.
Creator didn't complain, although his expression grew more sombre the longer they maintained the embrace.
Badger had been important to Creator, she was his family. Whether Badger had been a daughter or sister, Dolly could not be sure. The strength of their bond was drawing him to what was familiar, what Creator’s subconscious recognised was missing. Arlee bore a striking similarity to the earlier memories of Badger. However, time would almost certainly only cause greater differences between Arlee and Badger, and what would happen to the memories then?
“I'm sorry,” Arlee apologized, sniffling with her eyes downcast, “I ruined your drawing.”
“I'll just draw another one, don't worry about it too much,” Creator gently patted her head, “Alright let's go see what your Mama is doing.”
“Okay,” Arlee sniffled.
Dolly lingered behind. The golem couldn't help but feel like this was somehow its fault. The golem should have enforced Creator’s wishes instead of just watching Arlee as she specifically defied them.
Dolly could not undo the damage that was already done, but maybe it could replace what was lost.
Climbing onto the chair, Dolly opened the desk drawer where Creator stored his paper. Taking a few pieces of paper, the golem dropped them to the floor away from the small puddle of Ink. Next Dolly took one of the thin charcoal sticks and hopped down to the floor.
Accessing the memory of Arlee and the sketch before it was soaked in ink, Dolly took up the stick of charcoal and began to draw.
The first attempt was passable but covered in smudges, so Dolly moved on to the next page and tried again. Knowing what it was doing this time, the golem avoided many of the minor mistakes that caused so many smudges on its first attempt. The final product was arguably better than Creator’s lost sketches had been, but only because Dolly was copying the intended lines with the benefit of omitting the smudges present on the original.
With one page left and a serviceable technique with the sketching charcoal, Dolly wondered if it could take things a step further.
Once Dolly was finished, it left the papers in a pile on the bed. Leaving Creator’s room to investigate the workshop again, Dolly found Creator, Aela and Abigail were all sitting at the workshop table while Arlee was playing on the floor.
“Urgh,” Creator hissed and sucked on one of his fingers, “Pricked my finger again I’m really not good at this.”
“All a matter of practice,” Abigail retorted, suppressing a smile.
Aela grinned as she continued pinning one of Abigail’s recently cut fabric panels onto a sheet of linen.
“I saw that,” Creator grinned and looked sidelong at Aela, his momentary inattention causing him to painfully poke his finger with the needle again, “Oww! Dangit!”
“Perhaps spend more of your attention on the needle and less time flirting?” Abigail suggested, amused by Creator and Aela’s nervous reactions.
Creator coughed to clear his throat, “Think I am going to get some air, maybe see what Robert is up to downstairs.” Getting up to leave, he and Aela shared a momentary glance with one another, “Are we still doing strength training this evening?” Creator asked nervously.
Aela nodded, “You need to pace yourself though.”
“Right,” Creator chuckled nervously and nearly tripped over his chair, “R-right, I'll be downstairs if anyone needs me.” He then promptly left the room, sparing only a single glance back toward Aela before disappearing into the hall.
Aela’s grin broadened considerably.
Abigail took note of this but said nothing, returning to her work.
Dolly climbed up onto the table and began watching Abigail and Aela work. The golem found it liked the methodical and repetitive tasks involved in the skills on display, but inwardly lamented that it would not have an opportunity to participate unless invited or commanded to do so.
So Dolly watched and waited for hours, hoping that either Abigail or Aela would invite it to join them. The golem was forced to watch as a number of shirts and dresses slowly began to take shape, without being able to participate.
When Aela left to train with Creator, and Abigail took Arlee away to keep an eye on her while preparing dinner with Lindsay, Dolly resolved to creatively interpret the commands again.
The needles, pins and scissors were all definitely dangerous, Creator had proven that by hurting himself earlier. If the tasks and tools were dangerous, then it only made sense that Dolly would be protecting Arlee, Abigail and Aela from harm by performing the tasks itself.
Threading a needle and sitting down alongside Aela’s abandoned fabric, Dolly began to practice.