"But I've also learned. I've adapted. I've tried, every single day, to be worthy of the trust this city showed when it let me in. And I'm not the only one. There are dozens of orcs in this program, working jobs, raising families, contributing. We're not statistics. We're people. Complicated, imperfect, learning people."
His voice drops, intimate despite the crowd.
"Lacy said I taught her about belonging. But she taught me first. She taught me that being seen, really seen, is terrifying. That choosing someone means choosing their strangeness, their difficulty, their inconvenient needs and fears. That love isn't neat or safe or easily categorized."
He turns back to Blair.
"You want to shut down this program because it's messy. Because integration is hard and uncomfortable and sometimes things break. But that's what growth looks like. That's what community looks like when it's real instead of performed."
The chamber is silent.
Stone's hands are steady. His voice is clear.
"So yes, Councilwoman, there have been incidents. There will be more. That's what happens when different worlds try to build something together. But the alternative, shutting the door because it's easier than learning each other's languages, that's not safety. That's just fear dressed up as policy."
He steps back from the microphone, his massive frame somehow conveying both exhaustion and quiet dignity as he returns to his place beside me. His shoulder trembles where it brushes mine, not fear, but the aftermath of adrenaline, of laying himself bare before a room full of strangers who hold his future in their hands.
Blair's face is stone, her expression carved from granite and years of political calculation. Not a flicker of emotion crosses those sharp features. "Are you finished?"
"For now." Stone's voice is quieter now, but no less steady.
"Then let's move to the next speaker on the docket." Blair's tone is brisk, dismissive, already shuffling through her papers as though his words were nothing more than an inconvenient interruption to the evening's agenda.
But before she can call the next name, Councilman Rodriguez raises his hand—a surprisingly casual gesture in theformal setting, like a student seeking permission to speak. His expression is thoughtful, considering, none of Blair's cold dismissal in his lined face.
"I have questions," he says, his gravelly voice cutting through the low murmur that had started to ripple through everyone. "For both Ms. Ellis and Mr. Venn, if you'll indulge me."
Councilman Rodriguez leans forward, his elbows on the polished wood of the dais. His eyes flick between Stone and me, curious, not hostile. The chamber still buzzes with whispers, but his voice cuts through clear and steady.
"Ms. Ellis, you spoke about belonging. Mr. Venn, you mentioned growth through discomfort. I want to know how this program has changed you both. Not statistics. Personal stories."
I glance at Stone. He stands tall beside me now, his massive hand brushing mine for a split second. That touch grounds me. I draw a breath, tasting the dry air of the room.
"It's made me braver," I start. My voice echoes off the high ceilings. "I run a small bookstore. Safe, quiet life. Then Stone shows up, all green muscle and bad poetry, and suddenly I'm defending love in front of strangers. It's terrifying. But it's also the most alive I've felt in years."
Stone shifts his weight. His shoulder bumps mine again, deliberate this time.
"For me, it's about home." His deep rumble fills the space. "Orcs wander. We build clans wherever we land. But humans? You root deep. Lacy taught me that. Showed me how to plant without losing who I am."
Rodriguez nods slow, like he's chewing on the words. Other council members murmur, leaning in to each other. Blair sits rigid, her fingers tight on her pen.
"And the challenges?" Rodriguez presses. "Be honest. Has it been worth the mess?"
Stone answers first. "Every broken awning, every sideways look. Worth it because now I cook breakfast for a woman who sees me, not the monster in the stories."
I blush. "Worth it because he makes me laugh when bills pile up. Makes me fight for what's right instead of hiding in my books."
The room softens. A few people in the audience nod. One woman in the back wipes her eyes. Even the reporters look less hungry, more thoughtful.
Rodriguez sits back. "Thank you. That's what we need to hear."
Blair clears her throat sharp. "Councilman, we have a full agenda."
"But we also have new perspectives." Rodriguez looks to his colleagues. "I move to postpone the vote. Give time for a full review of these testimonies and the program's impact data."
Seconded comes quick from Councilwoman Patel on his left. Her face shows quiet agreement.
Blair's lips thin. "All in favor?"
