Rainer stares at the large library. We’re in Shar-Lot, and the library here is a hub for all the humans and monsters alike who need some reprieve from the world. There are other secrets within libraries, but those are secret for a reason.
We spend a couple days on Base 6, and I make it a point to introduce him to several humans and monsters alike who were the victims of the human group that hunted and tortured monsters. Keary decides to average it out and begins introducing him to humans who mated with monsters and carried monster babies.
You know, willingly. Not the victims of Silence.
He’s far more willing to believe that humans have been the victims of monsters than the opposite. I’ve specifically been choosing victims with visual scars to make sure he understands that this wasn’t just a mind game. There were physical consequences.
Their scars are visible for the world to see, but there are far more that dwell deep under the skin. Just as the trauma they still carry a century later hasn’t faded.
This library is several stories tall. We take our cue from Kaida and let her lead us to an unoccupied area.
In some places, there are permanent residents of the libraries, both monster and human alike. Monsters try not to let them freeload, though. If they’re not somehow contributing to something, then they don’t get the benefits that others’ hard work offers, free of cost.
Those who tend to stay in the libraries full time take care of the libraries, much in the same way librarians used to, and they also keep the grounds clean. They upkeep the buildings as best they can and attempt to keep the dust and decay away from the books.
Libraries are the one place that humans actively tried to keep from being destroyed. Churches? Buh-bye. Governmentbuildings? See-ya. Hospitals? Eh. They were raided for supplies, but their usefulness was quickly used up.
But libraries held knowledge. They held histories and science and stories. They held directions on how to rebuild civilizations. They also held warnings for what brings humans to the brink of extinction over and over.
This time, it was idiots in office who refused to believe what we were telling them was happening. They didn’t want to believe in monsters’ existence, even when we stood before them and offered them proof. They didn’t want to believe that they were as vulnerable, asweak, as we told them they were.
They didn’t want to believe that monsters could and would destroy them if given the opportunity.
Silence saw that opportunity and exploited it. The cities that fell first were the ones who refused to believe the truth.
Now what? Now, we’re left with people like Rainer who can only see what’s around them, struggling to exist after pods of monsters kill entire colonies. His knowledge of the world is passed down from oral history.
Even when humans access the tools within the libraries, they’re not reading the histories. Even if they were, the truth of this particular history isn’t widely spread within the libraries. Who’s going to publish it? Who’s going to teach it when there’s no organized schooling?
I don’t blame him. Much like Leema, he classifies all monsters the same, and I’m not sure I’d be any different. Especially if I were a victim in either of the ways they are.
“I’m going to find a shower,” Rainer says, allowing Kaida to lead him to the bathroom.
I nearly call after him that the showers only exist in these bathrooms because monsters installed them after the fact. Libraries weren’t equipped with fully functioning bathrooms when originally built.
“Why do you keep doing that?” Keary asks once Rainer is out of the room.
“Just to make sure he knows the world isn’t as black and white as he thinks it is.”
“It’s not his fault. That’s how he was raised,” Drystan says.
“We’re showing him the truth, yet he’s still reluctant to believe it,” I point out.
“I don’t think he’s reluctant. I think he’s overwhelmed,” Keary says. “You’re failing to show him the evidence of what Silence did to humans.”
“I don’t need to show him that monsters can be cruel. He already knows that. But he still thinks, on some level, that monsters are worse than humans as a whole, and that’s not the case. Humans are still fighting amongst themselves to determine who holds the most power in their pathetic little colonies instead of uniting and fucking rebuilding the world around them. The human sees that monsters are flourishing in the bases and gets mad because he feels like we’re keeping the humans from thriving. I’m proving that monsters, who owe humans nothing by the way, are still providing sanctuaries like the libraries to help them survive.”
“You’re so clinical,” Drystan says as he leans against my chest. I wrap an arm around him. “I think we should just plop him in the middle of a mixed family and let him absorb the truth for a couple weeks.”
Keary sighs. “Let’s just grab some food while he’s showering so we can eat when he gets back.”
I’m annoyed with Keary’s obsession with this damn human. It’s fucking frustrating. Keary belongs tous—to me and Drystan—something he’s refused for decades, and now he’s got a damn human trailing around us like a fucking puppy.
I hate everything about it, including the fact that I don’t hate the human like I want to… and Ireallywant to.
I don’t follow Keary and Drystan to get food. Instead, I make sure we have places to sleep tonight with all the luxuries I miss the most when following Keary around, like blankets and pillows. I miss my bed more than fucking anything, but I’m not willing to stay away from him.
The ache in my chest that is the equivalent of my monster pining is far too strong now. Funny how we talk about the stubbornness of water monsters when we have the most stubborn monster in existence as our should-be mate!
