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We began our walk in silence, my following Morissey's lead as we advanced on the rest of town. The closer we got to town, the heavier my legs seemed to grow, remembering the two run-ins Riv and I experienced at the hands of rioters. It took all I had to keep my pace with this in mind, even though those events were so long ago by now.

I looked around, the streets nearly empty even so early. I'd guess not many wanted to be around at night, not without reason. At various street intersections was some kind of guard or watchman, a sight I didn't recall from so long ago. From here I could make out they were dressed in a garb similar to Morissey's organization staff, but what this meant I couldn't quite say.

"Reverend," Morissey quietly said from in front of me.

"Y-Yes?" I squeaked.

"What are you afraid of?" he asked. "I noticed your pace slowing down and you keep looking in every direction."

"W-Well, um, back when it was just...Cel and I, I had brought him with me into town so I could drop off some finished work," I recalled, scratching my head. "The, uh, townspeople did not take so kindly to my son and made that very clear. The second time I left for work I kept him at home, but I was recognized and assaulted and a riot followed me. Some of those rioters even went to my home to try to hurt him."

"You're afraid of being recognized, then?" he summarized.

"That's a way to put it," I answered, tugging at my hair. "My children did nothing to deserve such a thing and I just want them to be safe."

"Are you aware of the schism between our groups?" he asked, putting his hand against a lightpost and stopping his stride.

He turned to face me directly, his gaze stopping me in my tracks where I stood.

"O-Of course I am, but I'm...not sure why it matters," I answered. "They're children-- very loving and well-behaved children at that. They pose absolutely no threat to the people here."

"But you are aware of it."

"...Yes?"

He turned and continued onward, coming to the center of town. Every so often I would see someone looking in our direction, piqued to see either of us together. Even his staff cocked their heads in vague confusion seeing my trailing their boss in the middle of the town that tried so hard to get rid of my son and I.

"Reverend, what do you know about my organization?" he asked further as we took a turn into the rough part of town.

"...Nothing, really, other than something about a network of foster homes," I replied, the ill lighting of the neighborhood raising the fur on the back of my neck.

"A Greater Society -- the organization you work for -- is a bit more than that," he said, stepping over a discarded newspaper. "Our purpose is to help rebuild lives and livelihoods, to help people recover and grow in their times of need. We are, in many ways, a sort of shelter for those people we help."

"What...does it do, exactly?"

Morissey stopped walking and turned his head to look back to me. Something about his gaze unnerved me, as though he was seeing right through me with his harsh orange eyes.

"Say, for example, a man ends up homeless-- perhaps by a storm or some other natural disaster. We host him in subsidized housing while he either finds work on his own or enrolls in our employment similarly to you and other staff. The man is able to recover funds from work while living in our housing to keep him safe and sound off the streets."

"I...see."

"Or, say a woman and her child are going hungry in their household. To them we would offer food at little to no cost through a donation system or a food shelf, the food otherwise paid for by myself and covered through other business systems so everything comes full circle."

"I think I understand."

"Or, might I say...consider a child whose home life had been one of neglect, who faced relentless harassment at the hands of dilutes in the streets. Perhaps he was even beaten with nowhere to go."

I gulped. Somehow I really doubted such an example was coincidental.

"In his case..." he continued, "...we'd separate him from his family and place him in foster care, where he would be housed..."

He took a step in my direction.

"...fed..."

Another step.

"...and loved..."

And final step followed by his hand on my shoulder.

"...just as he should have been, just as he deserved."

I cautiously looked over to the hand on my shoulder, my ears dipped back in worry.

"That is my story," he said. "I started this organization a long time ago in an attempt to spare others from the same upbringing and experiences I had in my early days. If I could...save even a single person from that walk of life, it would all be worth it, I thought."

"Your...story?" I asked.

"...I grew up in a disheveled town in central Faradus, quite far from most things of value," he turned back away from me, facing the rest of the street. "Though the town was diverse, I was often harassed by the local new types for what I was, being so much smaller than they. I was an easy target, I suppose, finding myself thrown into fights and pummeled fairly often. My father didn't care, but my mother..."

From here I could see his gaze turn downward, looking to the cracks in the road.

"...My mother was a kind woman, but she fell ill when I was about ten," he said, his hands slowly turning into fists. "The few doctors in the town were new types, and because of that they re...refused to treat her illness. It grew progressively worse, and...after a few weeks she passed away."

"...Because you were a pure family?" I asked, taking a step closer.

"...Yes, Reverend, and to them that made all the difference in the world," he answered. "I grew up around that hatred and I lost my mother to it, lost her to an illness that could have been treated. I saw other pures in town get harassment similar to mine, unable to help themselves and put a stop to it. We were smaller, weaker, and helpless."

Morissey slowly turned back around to face me, tears streaming from his eyes. It was a sight I never thought were possible, let alone behold for myself.

"...Don't you understand, now, why my staff and I are so apprehensive around your charges?" he asked. "They're children to you, but to us they're reminders of the things so many of us have endured. They're reminders of the scars we bear or the loved ones we've lost."

"...Is that also why you don't provide them aid?" I asked.

"Why would I want to provide help to the very people who seemingly made it their life's work to ruin mine?" he pushed. "Why would I want to help those who tried to hurt me or my staff, Reverend?"

"Morissey, people hurt other people," I said, perplexed. "It doesn't have to be any particular direction. Surely pures hurt new types, too--"

"Not once in my life have I seen that happen for myself, and that is why I'm here," he snapped back. "As long as that group exists they will prey upon ours, and I've made it my life's work to rebuild those broken people and make them stronger, facilitate bonds and let them live their lives without fear."

"And I'm sure you've done a fantastic job, but...my father tried twice to poison and hurt my son, and my father is a pure type," I reupped. "...They have gone through enough on their own that I can't stand the thought of putting them through more of it."

"They're just dilutes," he said, though with a strange tone of pain.

"...My son was the only new type of twelve children taken in from Stipa when it was destroyed," I said, my ears raking back. "The other children treated him horribly and his home life was rife with harassment from his pure neighbors. He was also among the youngest and tried to stay away from them, so I highly doubt he did anything to incite such treatment. For a while he was even afraid of me, and that took weeks of gentle coaxing to overcome."

Morissey stopped talking, his eyes slowly narrowing at my anecdotes to the contrary.

"...And my daughter," I continued, "was brought in by her own parents. They wanted to get rid of her for what she was so they could get married. Her stepfather withheld food from her, yelled at her when she tried to eat anything but dinner and would try to taunt her with food just to fuel his anger. Surely even you have noticed how small she is. Do not tell me that new types are the only people capable of doing terrible things."

"...You will never understand what we've gone through, Reverend," he regretfully said, looking down to his side. "If I can't make you see it now, I will never be able to."

"I love my children, Morissey, despite my upbringing," I quietly said. "At the end of the day, my children are not the people who hurt me so long ago, and that is what matters. They are very kind, well-behaved, and loving children whom I wouldn't change or trade for the world."

We stood in silence for a moment, the empty streets filled only with a howling breeze that darted between the small buildings. The few trees gently swayed, the wind carrying the brine of the ocean through the town. In the distance some fallen leaves whirled and danced with the wind before settling upon the road again.

"...Your upbringing?" he inquired after the wind died down, his gaze still fixed on the ground.

"...My upbringing isn't important," I said, taking a step closer.

"What was...your upbringing?" he asked, looking back up and over to me.

I sighed.

"...I grew up in a town to the far north, one run by new type supremacy groups," I recounted, knowing exactly where this would go. "My father was always like you've seen, my mother worked a lot and otherwise didn't want me around for what I was, her being a first-gen. I was regularly assaulted in town, being the only pure child, and to this day I carry marks on my person outlining those encounters."

"Then...why can't you understand?" he asked, his voice gradually quieting to a pained whisper.

"For far too long I was terrified of new types, and such a thing would continue to hold me back until I took in my son," I said, looking down to my hands. "It was he who first approached me so long ago, with a cute little drawing of both of us holding hands and smiling. From there my fears, my apprehension finally started to melt away and I could see him for what he was-- a scared little boy looking for love and comfort...just like I was at his age."

I took another few steps down the beaten dirt road.

"And my daughter," I continued, "whose stepfather had berated her in my presence for no rhyme or reason, and whose first actions toward me were to hug me and cry on my shoulder as her entire life just changed. She was terrified to step foot in the kitchen out of fear we'd continue what her stepfather did, her hardly believing me when I said she could eat three meals in a day."

Finally I walked enough to be right in front of Morissey, his head still turned away. I reached up my hand and placed it gently on his shoulder, a gesture that had him turning back toward me.

"Morissey, I'm sorry for the life you had so long ago," I quietly said. "It wasn't fair, it wasn't just, and I wouldn't wish such things on anyone. I do understand your sensitivities, but though I understand them I cannot agree with them. Likewise, you probably understand my refusal to follow your credo though you disagree with my choice. I simply...don't feel comfortable judging my children by the acts of irrelevant people from the other side of the region."

"I just...can't see it your way, having brought in so many pures with similar stories," he sighed. "The things I've seen, the stories I've heard, the lives I manage...it's maddening, Reverend. It's utterly maddening."

"I'm not saying you have to agree with me, but I'm suggesting other ways to view these problems," I said, patting his shoulder. "I couldn't begin to understand the things you've worked through with your organization, but...sometimes some outside perspective can help us. Maybe what I've brought up here can be of some value sometime."

His ears slunk back and his gaze returned to the ground. Opinions were hard to change, especially in our adulthood, so I had no expectations for my story to do much more than flavor his thoughts for the night.

"...I'm not sure," he said.

"Morissey, I...remember the encounter in my bedroom, as do you," I recalled, his brow furrowing and nose wrinkling at the mention. "Surely you remember...just what happens when we continue to hold that madness inside. What...good is that fear and anger doing you?"

Before he could turn away further I grabbed him in my own hug, my skinny arms wrapped around his ribs. He recoiled a bit in surprise after a little gasp, but I held on.

"I'm sorry if this is strange," I chuckled. "I think Daniel's habits are rubbing off on me, but...I think you need this."

From off to my side I heard shuffling between a couple buildings. I felt eyes on me, but figured it was just a stray animal and tried to ignore it. I let the man go, his looking back to me in wide-eyed confusion.

"You're doing good things in the world, Morissey," I said. "Just...please consider what I've said sometime."

"...I will consider it."

We continued our nighttime walk through the town, his silently thinking through my words.

---

We returned to the foster home, his turning away to walk back into town after I stepped foot on the porch. A hard man to read, but maybe these things were enough of a challenge against his ideology to bring forth a little change. I certainly wouldn't hold my breath, though.

Opening the front door I went back inside and into the much warmer house. Aware of my surroundings I walked down the hall, up the stairs, and down to the staff room where Daniel sat with a book and the two children either read or drew pictures. Upon my return Daniel looked over to me, seemingly relieved to see both that I was home and that I was in the same condition as I was in when I departed. Taking a seat next to the larger man I was soon pulled into his side and my hair was messed up with his snout-rubbing. I could tell he was worried and I couldn't really blame him.

The remainder of the evening was spent together in the room until it was time for the children to head to bed. With the nightly routine accomplished Daniel and I decided to turn in a bit early, tired from the week. Once both of us changed we retreated to my large bed, his gently holding me close to his core after we lay down.

"Were you really that worried?" I asked as he rested his snout against my head.

"Of course I was," he answered. "I didn't want a repeat of whatever happened back two years ago. I just want ya to be safe and I can't do much from a mile away."

"Well I assure you that I'm just fine, Daniel, but your caring is very much appreciated," I affirmed, combing my fingers through his long cheek fur. "I trust the children were good?"

"Of course, it was like any other evening," he said.

"I figured they would be," I laughed. "I'm certainly ready for the weekend."

"Think we all are," he smiled.

After a soft nuzzle against his snout I dug myself deeper under the covers, lying snug up to his front with my face against his chest. He brought his big arm over me, and before I knew it I was fast asleep.

---

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Description
We began our walk in silence, my following Morissey's lead as we advanced on the rest of town. The closer we got to town, the heavier my legs seemed to grow, remembering the two run-ins Riv and I experienced at the hands of rioters. It took all I had to keep my pace with this in mind, even though those events were so long ago by now.

I looked around, the streets nearly empty even so early. I'd guess not many wanted to be around at night, not without reason. At various street intersections was some kind of guard or watchman, a sight I didn't recall from so long ago. From here I could make out they were dressed in a garb similar to Morissey's organization staff, but what this meant I couldn't quite say.

"Reverend," Morissey quietly said from in front of me.

"Y-Yes?" I squeaked.

"What are you afraid of?" he asked. "I noticed your pace slowing down and you keep looking in every direction."

"W-Well, um, back when it was just...Cel and I, I had brought him with me into town so I could drop off some finished work," I recalled, scratching my head. "The, uh, townspeople did not take so kindly to my son and made that very clear. The second time I left for work I kept him at home, but I was recognized and assaulted and a riot followed me. Some of those rioters even went to my home to try to hurt him."

"You're afraid of being recognized, then?" he summarized.

"That's a way to put it," I answered, tugging at my hair. "My children did nothing to deserve such a thing and I just want them to be safe."

"Are you aware of the schism between our groups?" he asked, putting his hand against a lightpost and stopping his stride.

He turned to face me directly, his gaze stopping me in my tracks where I stood.

"O-Of course I am, but I'm...not sure why it matters," I answered. "They're children-- very loving and well-behaved children at that. They pose absolutely no threat to the people here."

"But you are aware of it."

"...Yes?"

He turned and continued onward, coming to the center of town. Every so often I would see someone looking in our direction, piqued to see either of us together. Even his staff cocked their heads in vague confusion seeing my trailing their boss in the middle of the town that tried so hard to get rid of my son and I.

"Reverend, what do you know about my organization?" he asked further as we took a turn into the rough part of town.

"...Nothing, really, other than something about a network of foster homes," I replied, the ill lighting of the neighborhood raising the fur on the back of my neck.

"A Greater Society -- the organization you work for -- is a bit more than that," he said, stepping over a discarded newspaper. "Our purpose is to help rebuild lives and livelihoods, to help people recover and grow in their times of need. We are, in many ways, a sort of shelter for those people we help."

"What...does it do, exactly?"

Morissey stopped walking and turned his head to look back to me. Something about his gaze unnerved me, as though he was seeing right through me with his harsh orange eyes.

"Say, for example, a man ends up homeless-- perhaps by a storm or some other natural disaster. We host him in subsidized housing while he either finds work on his own or enrolls in our employment similarly to you and other staff. The man is able to recover funds from work while living in our housing to keep him safe and sound off the streets."

"I...see."

"Or, say a woman and her child are going hungry in their household. To them we would offer food at little to no cost through a donation system or a food shelf, the food otherwise paid for by myself and covered through other business systems so everything comes full circle."

"I think I understand."

"Or, might I say...consider a child whose home life had been one of neglect, who faced relentless harassment at the hands of dilutes in the streets. Perhaps he was even beaten with nowhere to go."

I gulped. Somehow I really doubted such an example was coincidental.

"In his case..." he continued, "...we'd separate him from his family and place him in foster care, where he would be housed..."

He took a step in my direction.

"...fed..."

Another step.

"...and loved..."

And final step followed by his hand on my shoulder.

"...just as he should have been, just as he deserved."

I cautiously looked over to the hand on my shoulder, my ears dipped back in worry.

"That is my story," he said. "I started this organization a long time ago in an attempt to spare others from the same upbringing and experiences I had in my early days. If I could...save even a single person from that walk of life, it would all be worth it, I thought."

"Your...story?" I asked.

"...I grew up in a disheveled town in central Faradus, quite far from most things of value," he turned back away from me, facing the rest of the street. "Though the town was diverse, I was often harassed by the local new types for what I was, being so much smaller than they. I was an easy target, I suppose, finding myself thrown into fights and pummeled fairly often. My father didn't care, but my mother..."

From here I could see his gaze turn downward, looking to the cracks in the road.

"...My mother was a kind woman, but she fell ill when I was about ten," he said, his hands slowly turning into fists. "The few doctors in the town were new types, and because of that they re...refused to treat her illness. It grew progressively worse, and...after a few weeks she passed away."

"...Because you were a pure family?" I asked, taking a step closer.

"...Yes, Reverend, and to them that made all the difference in the world," he answered. "I grew up around that hatred and I lost my mother to it, lost her to an illness that could have been treated. I saw other pures in town get harassment similar to mine, unable to help themselves and put a stop to it. We were smaller, weaker, and helpless."

Morissey slowly turned back around to face me, tears streaming from his eyes. It was a sight I never thought were possible, let alone behold for myself.

"...Don't you understand, now, why my staff and I are so apprehensive around your charges?" he asked. "They're children to you, but to us they're reminders of the things so many of us have endured. They're reminders of the scars we bear or the loved ones we've lost."

"...Is that also why you don't provide them aid?" I asked.

"Why would I want to provide help to the very people who seemingly made it their life's work to ruin mine?" he pushed. "Why would I want to help those who tried to hurt me or my staff, Reverend?"

"Morissey, people hurt other people," I said, perplexed. "It doesn't have to be any particular direction. Surely pures hurt new types, too--"

"Not once in my life have I seen that happen for myself, and that is why I'm here," he snapped back. "As long as that group exists they will prey upon ours, and I've made it my life's work to rebuild those broken people and make them stronger, facilitate bonds and let them live their lives without fear."

"And I'm sure you've done a fantastic job, but...my father tried twice to poison and hurt my son, and my father is a pure type," I reupped. "...They have gone through enough on their own that I can't stand the thought of putting them through more of it."

"They're just dilutes," he said, though with a strange tone of pain.

"...My son was the only new type of twelve children taken in from Stipa when it was destroyed," I said, my ears raking back. "The other children treated him horribly and his home life was rife with harassment from his pure neighbors. He was also among the youngest and tried to stay away from them, so I highly doubt he did anything to incite such treatment. For a while he was even afraid of me, and that took weeks of gentle coaxing to overcome."

Morissey stopped talking, his eyes slowly narrowing at my anecdotes to the contrary.

"...And my daughter," I continued, "was brought in by her own parents. They wanted to get rid of her for what she was so they could get married. Her stepfather withheld food from her, yelled at her when she tried to eat anything but dinner and would try to taunt her with food just to fuel his anger. Surely even you have noticed how small she is. Do not tell me that new types are the only people capable of doing terrible things."

"...You will never understand what we've gone through, Reverend," he regretfully said, looking down to his side. "If I can't make you see it now, I will never be able to."

"I love my children, Morissey, despite my upbringing," I quietly said. "At the end of the day, my children are not the people who hurt me so long ago, and that is what matters. They are very kind, well-behaved, and loving children whom I wouldn't change or trade for the world."

We stood in silence for a moment, the empty streets filled only with a howling breeze that darted between the small buildings. The few trees gently swayed, the wind carrying the brine of the ocean through the town. In the distance some fallen leaves whirled and danced with the wind before settling upon the road again.

"...Your upbringing?" he inquired after the wind died down, his gaze still fixed on the ground.

"...My upbringing isn't important," I said, taking a step closer.

"What was...your upbringing?" he asked, looking back up and over to me.

I sighed.

"...I grew up in a town to the far north, one run by new type supremacy groups," I recounted, knowing exactly where this would go. "My father was always like you've seen, my mother worked a lot and otherwise didn't want me around for what I was, her being a first-gen. I was regularly assaulted in town, being the only pure child, and to this day I carry marks on my person outlining those encounters."

"Then...why can't you understand?" he asked, his voice gradually quieting to a pained whisper.

"For far too long I was terrified of new types, and such a thing would continue to hold me back until I took in my son," I said, looking down to my hands. "It was he who first approached me so long ago, with a cute little drawing of both of us holding hands and smiling. From there my fears, my apprehension finally started to melt away and I could see him for what he was-- a scared little boy looking for love and comfort...just like I was at his age."

I took another few steps down the beaten dirt road.

"And my daughter," I continued, "whose stepfather had berated her in my presence for no rhyme or reason, and whose first actions toward me were to hug me and cry on my shoulder as her entire life just changed. She was terrified to step foot in the kitchen out of fear we'd continue what her stepfather did, her hardly believing me when I said she could eat three meals in a day."

Finally I walked enough to be right in front of Morissey, his head still turned away. I reached up my hand and placed it gently on his shoulder, a gesture that had him turning back toward me.

"Morissey, I'm sorry for the life you had so long ago," I quietly said. "It wasn't fair, it wasn't just, and I wouldn't wish such things on anyone. I do understand your sensitivities, but though I understand them I cannot agree with them. Likewise, you probably understand my refusal to follow your credo though you disagree with my choice. I simply...don't feel comfortable judging my children by the acts of irrelevant people from the other side of the region."

"I just...can't see it your way, having brought in so many pures with similar stories," he sighed. "The things I've seen, the stories I've heard, the lives I manage...it's maddening, Reverend. It's utterly maddening."

"I'm not saying you have to agree with me, but I'm suggesting other ways to view these problems," I said, patting his shoulder. "I couldn't begin to understand the things you've worked through with your organization, but...sometimes some outside perspective can help us. Maybe what I've brought up here can be of some value sometime."

His ears slunk back and his gaze returned to the ground. Opinions were hard to change, especially in our adulthood, so I had no expectations for my story to do much more than flavor his thoughts for the night.

"...I'm not sure," he said.

"Morissey, I...remember the encounter in my bedroom, as do you," I recalled, his brow furrowing and nose wrinkling at the mention. "Surely you remember...just what happens when we continue to hold that madness inside. What...good is that fear and anger doing you?"

Before he could turn away further I grabbed him in my own hug, my skinny arms wrapped around his ribs. He recoiled a bit in surprise after a little gasp, but I held on.

"I'm sorry if this is strange," I chuckled. "I think Daniel's habits are rubbing off on me, but...I think you need this."

From off to my side I heard shuffling between a couple buildings. I felt eyes on me, but figured it was just a stray animal and tried to ignore it. I let the man go, his looking back to me in wide-eyed confusion.

"You're doing good things in the world, Morissey," I said. "Just...please consider what I've said sometime."

"...I will consider it."

We continued our nighttime walk through the town, his silently thinking through my words.

---

We returned to the foster home, his turning away to walk back into town after I stepped foot on the porch. A hard man to read, but maybe these things were enough of a challenge against his ideology to bring forth a little change. I certainly wouldn't hold my breath, though.

Opening the front door I went back inside and into the much warmer house. Aware of my surroundings I walked down the hall, up the stairs, and down to the staff room where Daniel sat with a book and the two children either read or drew pictures. Upon my return Daniel looked over to me, seemingly relieved to see both that I was home and that I was in the same condition as I was in when I departed. Taking a seat next to the larger man I was soon pulled into his side and my hair was messed up with his snout-rubbing. I could tell he was worried and I couldn't really blame him.

The remainder of the evening was spent together in the room until it was time for the children to head to bed. With the nightly routine accomplished Daniel and I decided to turn in a bit early, tired from the week. Once both of us changed we retreated to my large bed, his gently holding me close to his core after we lay down.

"Were you really that worried?" I asked as he rested his snout against my head.

"Of course I was," he answered. "I didn't want a repeat of whatever happened back two years ago. I just want ya to be safe and I can't do much from a mile away."

"Well I assure you that I'm just fine, Daniel, but your caring is very much appreciated," I affirmed, combing my fingers through his long cheek fur. "I trust the children were good?"

"Of course, it was like any other evening," he said.

"I figured they would be," I laughed. "I'm certainly ready for the weekend."

"Think we all are," he smiled.

After a soft nuzzle against his snout I dug myself deeper under the covers, lying snug up to his front with my face against his chest. He brought his big arm over me, and before I knew it I was fast asleep.

---

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Please support my work so I can keep a roof over my head. 2020 was bad and 2021 doesn’t appear to be getting any better. Supporters get early access to chapters/illustrations as well as exclusive access to WIPs.

www.patreon.com/ratte
ko-fi.com/ratte
paypal.me/silasagnostos
Discord server