Notto
Listen to what your monster tells you.
The first morning after bringing the human to the underground shelter, I watched him move around the space from the comfort of my recliner in the corner.
I had a good vantage point of the gathering room as well as the kitchen, and I could peer into the rooms that I shared with Drystan and the one that Keary took.
Keary had gone out in the night while the human pet slept to bring back fresh meat and produce. I’m not sure where he got it from, though likely a nearby colony as I think we’re in the middle of three.
We all watched the human hobble his way to the bathroom where he remained locked inside for quite some time. Long enough that Keary was beginning to fidget. Then he came out in nothing but a towel.
Investigation showed that he’d taken a shower and hand-washed his clothing. I didn’t even see him bring in his pants, but they’re definitely missing from the end of the couch now that I look.
He ignored us as he walked around in his towel and headed into the kitchen where he prepared everyone breakfast then began a stew to simmer on the stove. After that, he disappeared down the hall.
We found him in the gym, still clad in only a towel, working out. That was where he spent the majority of the day.
That’s how we spent three whole days. He doesn’t bother to get dressed, just wanders around with a towel wrapped around his waist.
I determine two things from this. One—he doesn’t know that there’s an entire wall of cabinets filled with clothing. Because Keary is enjoying the view, we don’t point this out. He’ll be irritated with us if we interrupt his gawking.
Two—the human pet is likely keeping his clean clothes for when he leaves the shelter. I understand the pleasure of putting on fresh clothes. If there’s one luxury I miss from home, it’s the constant access to clean clothing.
This morning begins no differently than the ones prior.
I remain in my chair as I watch everyone else in the kitchen.
Keary sits on a chair beside the table, while Drystan sits on the table with his legs curled under him.
The human pet is at the stove, cooking more of the spoils Keary retrieved in the night while he slept.
There’s no conversation yet. The human seems to be favoring his injured leg, though we can all see a major improvement in the way he’s moving around. The anti-venom seems to be working well enough. That’s good to know.
I know it isn’t long before someone speaks. Even if it’s just Keary intentionally heckling the human.
“Eriva,” the human says. “That means divine, right?”
“I’m not sure if that’s actually what it means, but yes, it’s a house of divine monsters,” Keary answers.
The human looks over his shoulder at the two of them. “What are you?”
“I’m a god,” Keary says smugly.
The human doesn’t believe that answer.
“I am,” Keary insists. “Gods aren’t what humans think they are, though you’re allowed and definitely encouraged to worship me on your knees if you like.”
The human rolls his eyes at the same time I do. Can that be considered bonding?
“No, really,” Keary says. “I’m a god. I can’t be killed by conventional methods, and my magic is considered divine because it defies logic.”
“Magic, in general, defies logic,” the human says.
“That’s why it’s magic,” Drystan says.
“Magic is the word that humans use to describe the control we have over certain things. Monsters have simply adopted the word for easy communication,” Keary justifies.
“What is it that you have control over?”
“The sun!” Keary says, and for a split second, a warm, bright yellow glow floods the kitchen as the sun reflects out of his eyes.
“You control the sun?” the human asks, not impressed by Keary’s show of power. “Seriously? You’re the god of the sun?”
“Not the god. All Ras can control aspects of the sun. We can travel through sunbeams and manipulate the sun’s rays. That kind of thing.”
The human nods, though I’m rather impressed with just how unimpressed he appears. Keary isn’t used to that.
He turns from the stove to look at Drystan. “What kind of god are you?”
Drystan shakes his head. “I’m not a god. I’m a teko.”
Human tilts his head. “An experiment?”
“Yep. First generation. An OG. Number 914.” It’s a joke that the teko use to make light of their existence since they’re not a hybrid bred from the originals. Drystan is an original.
I’m smirking because the human looks far more impressed with this information than he did at the revelation that Keary is a god.
“And you’re part of the divine?”
Drystan shrugs. “I’m considered a soul class.”
The human’s eyes roam over Drystan for a minute as he tries to figure out what that means. Instead of asking, he turns back to the stove.
“And the creep in the other room?”
Drystan and Keary look at me with big smiles. I don’t share their enthusiasm, though I may intentionally stare at the human longer than necessary because I know it makes him uneasy. I need to entertain myself somehow.
“He’s a god, too, though he’s an Ogun.”
“Right. And he controls what?”
Keary hums. “His magic isn’t the same. An Ogun is a Vodun warrior breed, so he’s an unmatched killer.”
I’ve always appreciated Keary’s enthusiasm concerning this. He loves violence and bloodshed.
The human turns with two plates in his hands, handing Drystan and Keary each one.
“That’s nice,” he comments. His hand drops to the towel, re-securing it, then grabs a plate from the counter to bring to me.
His eyes meet mine, and I can see that he’s not as impressed with my abilities as he is with Drystan’s existence.
I take the plate from him, and he turns without waiting for my thanks. Sometimes, I thank him. Other times, I don’t. Just to gauge his reaction.
I haven’t spent a lot of time with humans.
My interactions with humans are with those that live on the bases where our House—Eriva—lives.
But those humans have been with monsters for a long time.
They’re human in species, but they’re definitely monstrous.
The majority that I know have been with our kind since before the war that destroyed the human population.
“It’s really cool to watch Notto fight,” Drystan says. “He can take down any beast all on his own. Now, that’s magical.”
The pride in Drystan’s voice makes my chest warm.
“If you’re gods, are you really monsters?” the human asks.
“Your definition of a monster isn’t actually what defines a monster,” Keary says. “You think big teeth and dangerous and murderous.”
“You have all those things, don’t you?”
Keary grins, flashing a set of sharp teeth that are rarely there.
“Yes, but that’s just a shape. Arguably, humans can have sharp teeth too.
They can be both dangerous and murderous.
They can torture and kill without reason.
” He leans forward. “I lived through the days when humans did those things to monsters solely because they’re different. ”
It’s interesting the facts that get lost in the world.
This, for example. This human was never told about the human organization that hunted, tortured, experimented on, and brutally killed monsters.
We’re not just talking about adult monsters but newborns, infants, and children.
Their cruelty knew no bounds, and they did it all with stolen monster magic.
This isn’t something the human knows. Would he even believe the truth?
“And the monsters that did this had a pass for it because it was retaliation?” the human asks.
Keary looks amused. “You want a history lesson, precious? I’ll happily give you one. I can bring you to some humans who will not only tell you the same but have lived through it.”
Look at the disbelief on his face! “Yeah?”
“Yep. When a monster bonds a human, that soul becomes… I’m not going to say immortal but very long-lived.
Our humans have seen lifetimes pass. They lived through the wars and fought alongside monsters.
They’ve seen and experienced some of the most horrendous things that you can’t even fathom, sweetheart. ”
The human isn’t on board with this version of the world, but I can’t say I blame him. Humans in the wild don’t live much longer than thirty years these days, which means three generations have passed since the wars. There are no more organized schools, so you learn from those around you.
You’re taught the history of your people from those who haven’t lived through the truth.
Events become muddled and confused, the details lost. You look around you and take into consideration what you see and how you live now, using the information to form your own opinions that then become historical fact.
We have actual facts, like video evidence and millions of monsters who not only survived the battles but live to this day to tell the tale.
Humans have a hard time believing that’s possible.
I’m not sure I blame them for the mistrust in what we tell them versus the world they now live in.
If I were a human and having this information told to me, what would I think?
Would I believe the monsters telling me something different than what I’d been taught when my experience says that I shouldn’t?
The human pet doesn’t respond. He finishes his meal then goes about cleaning up. This morning, there’s nothing simmering on the stove for later. I wonder if that means he won’t be cooking our evening meal.
Not going to lie, he’s a damn good cook. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a meal as tasty as what he’s fed us over the last few days.
He turns from the kitchen, and his eyes meet and hold mine as he walks into the room. I continue the stare until his back is toward me as he heads down the hall. No doubt toward the gym.
“I keep hoping that towel will slip,” Keary says with a sigh. “I want to see his peachy ass.”
Drystan grins. “I bet it’s nice. How about his cock? What do you think he’s packing under there?”
“I feel like we can probably catch a glimpse if we try hard enough in the gym. He is walking around in nothing but a towel, after all. All the teasing bulges and bounces have my blood on fire.”
Drystan meets my eyes as he follows Keary to the gym. Keary doesn’t look at me. He prefers Drystan’s company to mine since our teko is warming up to the idea of keeping the human pet around. What is his plan for when the human decides he’s ready to leave?
I have a feeling we’ll be tagging along.
It’s maddening, but not nearly as maddening as fighting with Keary all these years because that fucker ignores the pull between our monsters.
It’s like ignoring all the alarm bells in your head even though you know what’s going on around you is going to lead to some very bad things, all because it doesn’t concern you.
That’s actually how the world ended. The monsters without targets on their backs decided that those being murdered for simply existing didn’t concern them.
Until it did. By then, it was too late to stop the ball that had already gained momentum. It began rolling down the mountain, taking billions of lives with it.
The lives lost aren’t even the worst part of the past. It’s the experiments on humans and monsters alike. The torture. The long, brutal murders.
Monsters may have had the last word in both the destruction of the world and the survival of the living species, but they weren’t the only ones performing the nightmarish deeds. Humans were just as bad, if not worse.
I suppose when your species is on the brink of extinction, you can look past that moral dilemma though. Obviously, the monsters deserved what they got. Look at what they left behind.