[Louis hums and nods. Yes, it's a good thing humans aren't in his world. At least, good for the humans. They could pass as some breed of ape, and they should be able to comfortably live off of vegetables, but they have no muscles, no particular speed, no claws or horns or anything. Nothing to defend themselves, and a proclivity for eating meat. He thinks that if a human tried to eat a herbivore, most medium species of herbivore could handily kill them. Maybe even an alpaca could kill them.
It's a grim line of thought, but Louis has never been known for optimistic thinking.]
No, we live in integrated communities. We live in the same cities, attend the same schools, work in the same companies. [For the most part, but explaining the minutia of what jobs carnivores and herbivores tend to stray to is for a different kind of conversation.
But he hears the underlying question. He sips at his whiskey, his missing leg twinging against his prosthetic.] You're wondering if they eat us. The answer is that it's punishable with life in prison, but yes. All carnivores crave herbivore meat, and devourings happen. It's a part of life.
['Devouring' rolls off his tongue like a familiar noun. 'A Devouring', akin to 'a murder'. It's just a part of life, to the point where a devoured classmate is only enough cause for school-wide uneasiness and a shrine of flowers rather than the closure and investigation of the school.
What he doesn't say is that the criminal penalty is far lighter if the carnivore doesn't devour all of the herbivore, if the carnivore only eats a limb or rushes to get help after losing control. It would invite questions that he'd rather avoid, or at the very least let her find herself.]
no subject
It's a grim line of thought, but Louis has never been known for optimistic thinking.]
No, we live in integrated communities. We live in the same cities, attend the same schools, work in the same companies. [For the most part, but explaining the minutia of what jobs carnivores and herbivores tend to stray to is for a different kind of conversation.
But he hears the underlying question. He sips at his whiskey, his missing leg twinging against his prosthetic.] You're wondering if they eat us. The answer is that it's punishable with life in prison, but yes. All carnivores crave herbivore meat, and devourings happen. It's a part of life.
['Devouring' rolls off his tongue like a familiar noun. 'A Devouring', akin to 'a murder'. It's just a part of life, to the point where a devoured classmate is only enough cause for school-wide uneasiness and a shrine of flowers rather than the closure and investigation of the school.
What he doesn't say is that the criminal penalty is far lighter if the carnivore doesn't devour all of the herbivore, if the carnivore only eats a limb or rushes to get help after losing control. It would invite questions that he'd rather avoid, or at the very least let her find herself.]