"Er, what?" says Lyubov, staring at Vika like the other woman's just suggested something abominable. "What, like, by thee, do they also eat infants and push elders off of cliffs? To merit making a person from dust and the fire of words, for such a skill a true scholar and sage must labour for years. Like, truly, pardon my Arcadian, but why the fuck would someone bother to make a golem only to act like it's not a person?" She wrings her hands, and stomps her foot in distress, as if trying to ground the nervous energy filling her. "To say one made is worse than one born ... I mean like, the Adam was made of dust, too!"

She stares at Vika, slowly, by degrees becoming aware that it is perhaps unhelpful if she's so distressed at an injustice that affects her not, but has apparently totally fucked over Vika's life, an injustice that Vika hasn't exactly condoned, to boot.

"I beg thy pardon," she murmurs, ducking her head in sudden shame. "But one must not mistreat animals, never mind people. And people created deliberately are surely people, nu?"