She might have called it in any other way, and it might have shown up. Just out of the sheer curiosity. It had watched in blind horror and impotent fury as she and another, that killer, that that ... whatever he was, it had watched as they'd played in the blood of it's creation. It's beautiful thing. The Cupid that had given love to so many lonely souls, no matter how short lived it had been.
It might have visited her without a beckoning because it wanted to know how she was able to keep it out. Nothing was able to manipulate the City in the way that she had. Block it from doing what it wanted to, when it wanted to, and who it wanted to do it to. She had stopped it from getting to it's own creation. An impossible task, yet there it was.
But to call it like this. To summon it as if it were some demon. Some phantom, some ghost. To trap it in a circle of power such as this. This was beyond angering.
Did she not know with what she was up against? It thought that she did. She was powerful, and she was smart. So why would she choose to do such a thing as this?
And to demand a body. Not give a choice on if it would show her a face or not, that was an outright insult.
It went to her in the face of Smith Wall. The man it had created to be. The generic looking male that had one of those appearances that were easily forgotten. Nothing spectacular about it.
The City stood in the circle and silently fumed toward Baba Yaga. It did not cross it's arms over it's chest. It did not threaten her. Not yet.