The humans called us monsters. They called us dangerous. We were only defending what was ours; we never meant to gain a reputation. They humans never really tried to
understand us, not really. The humans may say they attempted research, but what they really wanted was to eliminate us, discover our weaknesses so they would no longer have to deal with sentient beings in the way of whatever they felt they wanted to do in the water.
My name is Freya. I have never seen a human; only heard the stories. They have given my people the name leviathan, as if we are some sort of giant abomination; But they have it all wrong.
My people are gentle; herbivores, we don't have the weapons necessary to kill. You'd catch a leviathan hide before they attacked something. But with humans... humans expect us to be dangerous because of our size. In truth I have no stories that I know of a leviathan killing a human, but they continue to tell their people we are predators.
No human has ever wanted to study us. We're not pretty like the sirens, or novel like the tropical folk, or easily accessible like the pixies. In reality, we are hard to reach, and we aren't easy to fantasize about, so they don't seem to care. No one wants to settle down with a bunch of eyeless creatures whose hair is longer than you are tall, who periodically screech to make sure they don't run into rocks.
At least, I was sure no one fantasized about us. That is, until the most monumentally dumb human I've ever encountered, granted the only one, trucked his way down here in his submarine intent on shacking up with the giants.
He called himself Flint; we knew he was going to be insufferable from the moment he arrived. His tinny speaker threw off our sonar, his submarine was constantly in the way. And he had been with us all of three days before his ulterior motives came out and it was obvious he was there on a mission. A researcher, not a friendly face.
We decided we had to ask him to leave. He was not good for us. But he was a stubborn one; he wouldn't leave, he begged to stay, his speaker grating on our eardrums...
At least he made good fertilizer for the garden. I've never had such healthy kelp in my life.
understand us, not really. The humans may say they attempted research, but what they really wanted was to eliminate us, discover our weaknesses so they would no longer have to deal with sentient beings in the way of whatever they felt they wanted to do in the water.
My name is Freya. I have never seen a human; only heard the stories. They have given my people the name leviathan, as if we are some sort of giant abomination; But they have it all wrong.
My people are gentle; herbivores, we don't have the weapons necessary to kill. You'd catch a leviathan hide before they attacked something. But with humans... humans expect us to be dangerous because of our size. In truth I have no stories that I know of a leviathan killing a human, but they continue to tell their people we are predators.
No human has ever wanted to study us. We're not pretty like the sirens, or novel like the tropical folk, or easily accessible like the pixies. In reality, we are hard to reach, and we aren't easy to fantasize about, so they don't seem to care. No one wants to settle down with a bunch of eyeless creatures whose hair is longer than you are tall, who periodically screech to make sure they don't run into rocks.
At least, I was sure no one fantasized about us. That is, until the most monumentally dumb human I've ever encountered, granted the only one, trucked his way down here in his submarine intent on shacking up with the giants.
He called himself Flint; we knew he was going to be insufferable from the moment he arrived. His tinny speaker threw off our sonar, his submarine was constantly in the way. And he had been with us all of three days before his ulterior motives came out and it was obvious he was there on a mission. A researcher, not a friendly face.
We decided we had to ask him to leave. He was not good for us. But he was a stubborn one; he wouldn't leave, he begged to stay, his speaker grating on our eardrums...
At least he made good fertilizer for the garden. I've never had such healthy kelp in my life.
